The undoubted distrust with which Nel viewed him was forced anew on Matheson’s notice. He realised clearly that it would be necessary to allay this distrust before he could hope to gain his confidence. The man on the other side of the horse was shrewd, and it was not altogether surprising that he should entertain doubts of the Englishman’s honesty of purpose. He knew the errand that had brought him there, and formed his judgment in accordance with his knowledge. Matheson’s claim that he belonged to a different camp puzzled him considerably. He regarded the speaker as a liar. Men who work evil stealthily are not addicted as a rule to truth.
“We will leave your horse in the shade of this tree,” he said. “My boy will see to him until you are ready to start.”
He called for the boy, and then led the way inside.
Chapter Fifteen.
The rondavel was curious rather than beautiful. It was built entirely on the native principle, save that it had a fireplace and properly constructed chimney. In the centre four uprights of timber supported the roof—young trees which had been felled and barked under Nel’s supervision. The roof was of wattle and reed, the thatching of which had been done entirely by native women because in Nel’s opinion they understood the work thoroughly. The mud floor, smooth and of a perfect evenness, was subjected regularly to the unsavoury process of smearing—washing over the surface with a weak solution of cow-dung. This is less unpleasant than it sounds, and is admittedly the best treatment for mud floors; it prevents crumbling and unevenness of surface. Upon the floor were one or two good skins. A curious curtain of strips of hide attached to the supports divided the hut into separate apartments. Nel held aside this reimpe curtain and disclosed his bed.
“When I go to bed,” he explained, “I draw the curtain back; then my sleeping apartment is quite spacious.”
Behind the rondavel a second and smaller hut had been erected. This served as a kitchen and his boy’s quarters; and from this hut presently a Kaffir appeared and spread a cloth on the round table, and brought in the breakfast. They took their seats.
“You would have fared better by my brother’s house,” Nel observed, helping his guest to porridge with which raw cream was served. “I live simply here. It suits me. There are buttered mealies to follow—and biltong, if you care for it. It’s quite good eating cut fine—a pocket-knife is best for the purpose. I’ll cut you some to eat with bread and butter.”