“Hi! young fellah—stop that!”
If he had fired off his gun at her the result could not have been more effective. She drew up instantly, stopped tearing with both hands at the collar of her shirt, and stood staring into his eyes, panting heavily. He ran a shrewd glance over her.
“Where’d you spring from?” he demanded. She continued to stare at him. His voice which was common and brutal troubled her, and she did not like his face.
“Crazy!” he mused, looking at her keenly through half-closed eyes. “I’m not sure it wouldn’t be a good thing to give you a crack on the cocoa-nut and leave you to the aasvogels. You’ll only be a darned nuisance.”
She understood very well what he was saying, but somehow it did not terrify her. Nothing terrified her except the thought of being left alone. He tried her with another question.
“How long you been lost?”
She waved her hand towards the trees that fringed the river bank. Why she did this she had not the faintest idea.
“Ach!” he exclaimed impatiently, and turned on his heel. “Come on to my waggons, you fool.”
Without any indignation at his way of addressing her, she fell into step beside him. A few paces farther on, two natives bounded into sight, coming towards the man as though searching for him. He addressed them in Kaffir, pointing backwards to where he had left the buck. They gazed at Vivienne with impassive faces. Both parties continued on their way.
At last Vivienne’s eyes fell once more upon the broad dusty road, and a hundred yards or so from it two transport waggons were drawn up and outspanned. At the sight of them, and the smouldering fires, and a dog that jumped up barking, and the smell of newly-baked bread, something in the girl’s breast gave a great throb, and she had speech.