‘Oh, mine tarling poy, how I have looked for you; oh, praise pe to father Abraham, I have found you.’
Steve’s hand was snatched up eagerly and joyfully shaken. It was one of the Jews they had met in Johannesburg.
‘Oh, how I have looked for you, mine frint. I have made two horses tie, so I have rode them, to find you, and your honest old frint. Come, come, let us go into this bar and have a bottle of fiz.’
‘No, thank you, I do not take wine or spirits, and I have no time now to talk to you,’ replied Steve, annoyed at the scene the Jew was creating in the street, causing the passing people to stand and stare at the vehement joy of the Jew.
‘But, my frint, I must speak to you, I can’t let you go now, after looking so long for you; I tell you I have been everywhere trying to find you, from the day I saw you in Johannesburg. Oh, no, I will not let you go; you must speak to me, I have much to tell you.’
Steve saw it was no use trying to get rid of the Jew in this way.
‘Come to my room, and do not talk so loud in the street,’ said he, walking rapidly on, the Jew sticking to him like a leech.
‘Now, quick, what do you want from me?’ said Steve, as he handed the Jew a seat in his room.
‘Oh, come, you know I want to puy de gold farm of your friend—what’s his name?’ said the Jew, thinking to catch Steve off his guard.
‘Never mind his name now. As regards buying his farm, he has already declined doing business with you. Why do you pester me now about a thing that is settled?’