“‘Phooh!’ said Harry, ‘I’d take him with one hand.’
“‘I’ll jes’ walk over to Clumber,’ sed Jake, stretching hisself, ‘and fetch the sweet pertaters for sowing to-morrow.’
“Harry laughed.
“‘You’re getting nervous, Jake,’ he sed, ‘now you’re in love. There’s somethin’ sweeter’n pertaters over yonder.’
“Jake laid Harry on his back—not so’s to hurt him, and swung off inter the dark, while me and Jimmie and Tom reckoned that Harry was the chap if there was any trouble.
“Early next morn, me and Jim stretched away across the veld, towards the Fish River, carrying a tin for the honey and a hunk of black bread.
“We’d gone about six miles when Jimmie stubbed his toe, and sit down, with a holler, to nurse it.
“‘My gum!’ he sed, ‘it’s bad; I guess we’ll go back and leave this trip for nex’ week. There’s a honey-tree near home, and we’ll go there.’
“I were ’leven and he were sixteen, and what he sed I’d got to do, so we turned back, and he limpin’.
“All o’ a sudden, when we got in a dip, he give over limpin’. ‘Abe,’ he says, breathin’ hard, ‘there were a Kaffir watching us. Now you go along home—quick! Don’t say nothin’ to father. Maybe the chap’s up to no mischief, but if he is, I’ll find out.’