"It has turned out quite as fortunate for me, Hans."
Peter, who was not given to speaking unless addressed, said but little. Occasionally, as he looked at Yorke and Hans, he shook with silent laughter at their changed appearance, and indeed the transformation effected by their long hair was striking to one accustomed to their closely-cropped heads. By the way, however, he went about his work—taking the horses out of the cart, supplying them with their water and grain, and rubbing them down—it was evident that he already, in imagination, considered himself to be a far more important person than he was before, and that he was preparing himself for the change from the humble position of a casual labourer in some small town to that of a man of position and influence among his tribe. Occasionally he would break into bursts of apparently unprovoked laughter, as if the change appeared to himself ludicrous in the extreme.
They were on the move at the first sign of daylight, and Potchefstroom was still asleep when they drove through. At eight o'clock they crossed the Vaal and drove into Reitzburg. A couple of Boers came up and asked them where they came from, but were quite satisfied with the answer, "From Potchefstroom," as they considered that if they had been allowed to pass through there, their journey must be a legitimate one.
ONE OF THE BOERS THEY HAD SPOKEN TO SAUNTERED IN.
"We have a pass from the chief of the police at Johannesburg, if you would like to see it."
"No," one of the men replied. "If it is good enough for them in the Transvaal, it is good enough for us. I suppose you are going down to the army?"
"Yes, we want to do our share of the fighting."
"Quite right. You must lose no time or you will be too late."