“I don’t believe you are very sure of me yet,” he said.
“Oh! yes, I am... as sure as a man can be of another whom he knows so slightly. What I would say to you is, go back—you can do no good here—go back, and help to instil in the minds of your own countrymen a feeling of greater kindliness towards the Dutch. The racial bitterness is not all on our side. A little forbearance, a more generous spirit—what you call fair play, will lead to a better understanding. I believe that under tactful and sympathetic conditions of government the spirit of rebellion which exists to-day, which will exist for some time while men turn to look back at that shadow of the past, will eventually die out; and the union of the two white races in South Africa will become cemented. The prosperous future of the country depends on that. It is one camp; there must be no enemies in it.”
His mouth lifted at the corners humorously.
“This farm is an example of dissension in the camp,” he said. “I build myself a rondavel, with a rope ladder leading to the roof which I can draw up after me. When we have eaten I will show you. No one knows of that retreat. I have kept my secret; then, when I do not wish to be found, I climb into my secret chamber, and they look for me in vain. My rondavel has a double roof.”
Matheson looked up with surprise at the innocent-looking grass roof, while Nel observed him smilingly.
“A child with a toy!—eh, Mr Matheson?” he said. “I was just a big boy when I planned my house.”
Chapter Sixteen.
Nel showed something of the disposition of a boy when later he revealed to Matheson the secret of his rondavel. He fixed his rope ladder to a beam in the roof, mounted, and, removing a part of the thatch, disappeared into the obscurity beyond through the opening he had made. For a moment his face showed in the opening, smiling down on Matheson, who stood below watching the proceedings with interest.