Chapter Two.
Wild Honey—Part II.
The three sat round the fire awhile, unspeaking, each busy with their own thoughts. Whatever were Roper’s his face grew more sullen every moment, and the glances he cast in the direction of the new-comer were full of malignance. He looked menacingly too at Vivienne, who had suddenly taken on such a feminine appearance that he was amazed he could have been deceived so long. Her intense pallor and the dilation of her eyes through fear or excitement until they looked like great sombre pools of fire may have had something to do with the phenomena, but there she was, spite of the travesty of masculine attire, glowing like some beautiful night-blooming magnolia. And she said nothing; just sat very still behind the packing-case, watching the two men.
As for the stranger, he had taken up an easy position on one of the boxes which were always lying about the camp, and with his rifle beside him, leaning forward elbows on knees, began to fill his pipe. No hospitality of any kind was offered him. Just as he was about to light up, he gave a half glance in the direction of the girl, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to ask for her permission to smoke, but it must have been fancy on her part for he lit without speaking.
“I hope your waggons are not far off,” said Roper suddenly. “For I’ve no idea of turning mine into a sort of refuge for lost dogs.” His tone was extremely offensive. The other man looked at him steadily for a long moment, then said with a gentleness almost deadly:
“I don’t see any dogs about here—except one.” It is true that Roper’s pointer was asleep under the waggon not far off, but the stranger did not happen to be looking that way. Roper was at liberty to like the inference or lump it, whichever he pleased. Perhaps the cheerful flicker on the bright barrels of the stranger’s .303 helped his decision not to lump it, for his tone was less aggressive when he spoke again.
“What I mean is, I’ve had enough of picking up and feeding and lodging people who choose to get lost on the veld. I’m full up with it. I didn’t lay in provisions against such accidents.”
“Oh!” said the stranger, still gently. “Have you had many of the kind?”
“Yes; one too many,” was the retort.
Vivienne thought this the time and place to make a statement. “I am the unfortunate accident,” she said in a low voice. “I was lost on the veld some three weeks or more ago, and this man Roper found me, and has been supplying me ever since with food and a waggon tent to sleep in. He seems to resent having to do it so much, however—in spite of my assurance that he will be well paid—that I should be only too glad to leave this camp if I could.”