'Why, it's old Stevenson. Yes, just like him to do that,' Cameron answered. The old squatter had ridden alongside the Bushmen the whole of the line of march. His face was working with excitement; every time a cheer went up from the crowd he cheered too, standing up from time to time in his saddle and waving his soft felt hat. He kept beside his son as much as he could; he was almost bursting with the pride of his position.
Challis's eyes were full of tears.
'Oh,' she said, 'what a very dreadful thing if that nice man should be killed!' She was quite captivated by the sunny smile Mortimer had given their group.
'There's not a better fellow in the world,' Cameron said warmly.
The khaki died away in the distance, the prancing horses were gone, the sound of the band grew fainter and fainter.
Yet a little time, and the transports would be plunging through the Heads with them, carrying them forward as fast as might be to dye the veldt red with their own blood or that of the Boers.
CHAPTER XV
Heart to Heart
'We will not speak of years to-night;
For what have years to bring,
But larger floods of love and light,
And sweeter songs to sing?'
They were in a quiet room at the hotel at last. They had lost sight of the tall-hatted gentleman and one musician entirely; the other had said thoughtfully that he would not intrude.