‘My name is Nande.’
‘But that is a pure Afrikander name.’
‘So it is. I was born in the Cape Colony, and have been in the Transvaal now for five years.’
‘But why do you speak as if you wished for the downfall of our Afrikander Republic?’
‘Because I do not think it right that we should be governed by these Boers any longer. Why, they refused to give me a situation just because I could not write Hollander-Dutch; they rather gave it to a Hollander than to an Afrikander.’
‘I think that shows their good sense,’ replied Steve; ‘if you had learned your mother tongue as well as you did English, they would not have refused you.’
‘Well, I only hope that Jameson and the Uitlanders will succeed in chucking the whole lot out, then a man who has received an English education will be able to get a Government situation too. I hope to see the British flag flying once more over the Transvaal in a week or so.’
‘Hurrah for Jameson and the British flag!’ cried Steve’s cousin.
This young man had been in the habit of running the English down ever since he had come to the Transvaal, because he thought it good policy, but now that he believed the English were going to be victorious, he thought it was high time to put on his Anglo-Saxon coat and go with the winning party. It is all very well to be an Afrikander while Afrikanderism is popular, and while Afrikanders hold the handle of the knife. But now it seems England is going to wrest the handle out of the hands of the Boers, so ‘British I will be now,’ was his philosophy—ugh!
Keith and Harrison did not say a word; they seemed to be stricken dumb at what they heard.