Well, our two adventurers were in clover, and so well did they employ their opportunity that old Swan, who had been bragging to all his usual bar frequenters about having secured the General’s custom, and chuckling to himself over the huge bill that, in the future, he would present, which would be duly paid in bright English gold instead of in worthless Transvaalian greenbacks, was fairly wild with greed and pride. There was, however, one small cloud on the horizon: the Colonel had stated that he rarely touched anything stronger than tea, and the tea-drinker is not nearly so profitable a customer to an up-country innkeeper as one who imbibes expensive drinks at short intervals during the day. This gloomy conjecture he confided to his circle of cronies, who condoned with him, but the cloud, however, was to be quickly blown away, for after he had summoned his guests to their lunch he rushed back into the bar and exclaimed: “Tea-drinker, does he call himself? Tea-drinker, ma certes! Why, they have finished the sherry; they’ve finished the pontac; they’ve finished the brandy and more than half finished the whisky, and the Colonel has ordered two big bottles of champagne for their tiffin. Yes, and I’m blest if they’ve turned a single hair. Tea-drinker indeed! My word, if the General and the remainder of the staff drink tea like the Colonel, and are half as drouthy, they will drink the dorp dry in less than a week.” And the old fellow rubbed his hands as he booked the amount for the liquor consumed and chortled over the anticipated profits.

Well, to cut a long story short, our two penniless heroes lived for over a week on the very fat of the land, their Gargantuan repasts and the amount of liquor they consumed causing wonder and astonishment in the quiet dorp. But the end of their bean-feast was at hand. Sir Garnet, they knew, was in the vicinity. Prudence warned them to absquatulate, and they determined to cut their lucky, before the inevitable dénouement. One evening, therefore, they informed old Swan that the expected great man would arrive the next day, that they were riding out in the morning to meet him, and they conjured him to have things ready for his reception. Next morning, with their wallets filled with the best cigars, and their flasks full of the best cognac, they rode gaily away on their quest, and, bedad! it was high time for them to do so, as they had not proceeded two miles out of the dorp before they met the real Simon Pure, with all his staff, escort and mule waggons en route to the village they had just quitted. Well, they were all right: the paymaster had arrived, all arrears would be paid up, the war would start again, they had had a high old time of it, and they lapsed into roars of laughter when they thought of old Swan and the fury he would be in when he found out he had been hoaxed. Yes, old Swan’s consternation and rage were beyond description when the General’s cavalcade, instead of pulling up at his highly decorated house, proceeded to that of his hated rival, from whence, after a short interview between Sir Garnet and the landrost, it continued its way to parts unknown. Truly the old fellow’s provocation was great. Not only had he been put to much expense by the alterations to his house, but the bill run up by the two marauders was a very big one, and then the chaff that he would have to submit to, because he, who fancied himself to be more than cute, had allowed himself to be taken in and done down by a well-known bad hat like Mad Conway. No; it was not to be tolerated, so he called for his horse and his two-shot scatter gun, for the purpose of going in pursuit, but on second thoughts that was far too risky a job, so he got drunk, and goaded at last to desperation by his wife’s clacking tongue tried to beat her, but she, being a strong-armed suffragette, took the contract out of his hands and gave him the devil’s own thumping. So the poor old fellow subsided and submitted to having his leg pulled with the best grace he could muster. There was, however, a little balm in store for him, as after the two freebooters had had some financial dealings with the paymaster they sent him a good round sum of money; for they were both men who did not object to paying their debts when they had the coin, and remembered to do so. This remittance, although it brought relief to his avarice, still did nothing to assuage his injured self-respect. He had been taken in and hoaxed. The yarn spread all over the country, and he was unmercifully chaffed to the day of his death about the way he had entertained Mad Conway and the counterfeit Colonel. It was, however, to be the last escapade of the latter, as the poor fellow was shortly afterwards killed while gallantly leading a desperate rush at Sekukuni’s Mountains.

I, however, had started telling you about my personal experiences with Mad Conway. Well, after I met him at dinner, I saw a good deal of him, and one day he asked me to come for a drive with two of his friends, who owned a very smart turn-out, to a well-known drift across the Vaal River, where there was an hotel. We were to start on a Saturday afternoon, stay there the night, and return the next day. He promised me a lively time, as two of the team of four horses were unbroken, and the other two, although splendid animals, possessed all the vices that gee-gees can be either born with or acquire. The distance was about twenty-five miles, the road was good, across a dead-level flat, which, like most of those in Grigualand West, was thickly sprinkled with ant-heaps, from about a foot to two and a half feet high. Well, perhaps the characters of the horses and that of the two other men who were to accompany us, both roaring blades, to say nothing about the well-known recklessness of our Jehu, might have made a nervous old gentleman give pause and refuse the invite; but then you see at that time I was not a nervous old party, and although I have no wish to claim an inordinate amount of pluck or recklessness still as I was blue mouldy for the want of a bit of divarsion, and knew Conway to be one of the best whips in Africa, I gladly accepted. The start was a trifle exciting, our two companions turning up just about half-seas over, while the horses promised to act up to their evil reputations. However, the trap was a brand-new Cape cart, and the harness of the very best, so that after some little circus play Conway managed to get the nags to move off, and we started. The drive through the diggings was accomplished, thanks to Conway’s masterly management, in safety, for although we scattered like chaff many groups of niggers, we only upset two Parsee pedlars and one Chinaman, the balance of the damage done being the demolishment of a coolie’s habitation, which was constructed out of material that at one time had been paraffin and sardine tins. This accident caused the pious Hindoo who owned the shattered tin-heap to swear horribly and spit just like an angry cat; but I don’t think we killed anybody. When we reached the veld and were on the broad, open waggon road, the horses, thanks to the splendid handling of our charioteer, settled down to a swinging pace. There was but little chance of our meeting anyone, the scores of high-heaped produce and wood waggons trekking into Kimberley being, at that time of day, all drawn off the road and outspanned, as were also the empty waggons homeward bound, and I firmly believe we should have reached our destination in safety had it not been for the conduct of the other two passengers. The drive was most exhilarating as we rushed through the glorious air, and there was plenty of excitement in it too for a man who was not a glutton; for although the road was a first-class one, and quite flat, yet frequently, when we passed a group of outspanned waggons, the Dutchmen’s dogs would rush out and bark at us, a proceeding that drove our unbroken and vicious horses nearly mad. Yet I thoroughly enjoyed the drive, and no doubt should have done so to the end, as the change from the slogging hard work of the mine, with its dust and dirt, was delightful, while the slashing pace we were going and the wild, fresh, veld wind roused my animal spirits till I felt as exhilarated as a penniless small boy does when he is presented with an unexpected half-crown. But, alas! we had other spirits on board, and our two companions, who occupied the back seat in the cart, partook of them freely, nor did they partake of them in the orthodox manner, as the motion of the swinging cart made the use of a glass and a mixing of aqua fortis with aqua fontis a somewhat difficult matter; so they dispensed with the usual accessories and swigged the whisky neat out of the bottle. Now this was a very dangerous proceeding, especially as they had imbibed a fair skinful previous to starting, and what with the natural high spirits engendered by the drive, and the other spirits they loaded up in the aforementioned manner, they became very tight indeed, and decidedly uproarious. First of all they began to sing a song. That was a failure. Then they began to chaff old Conway, which was dangerous; and then they began to rattle and stamp their feet on the floor of the cart, so as to make the horses more restive, which was both unnecessary and foolish. Conway, the muscles of whose arms were swollen to nigh breaking-point, took no notice of their crazy antics, except to order them to stop monkeying, as it was all he could do to hold and guide the half-maddened animals, but they paid no heed to his admonitions. Then he cursed them with unction, but that succeeded no better, till at last, thoroughly angry, he shouted out: “Oh, you want a smash, do you? Well! by gad, you shall have one.” And without another word he bundled up the reins, which he threw on to the leaders’ backs, at the same time letting go a letter “S” cut with his whip which impartially stung up every horse in the team, and then sitting back he let go one of his well-known wild bursts of laughter. At the moment this happened we were about five miles from the drift. The road was perfect, but some two miles or more farther on there was a sharp bend in it, and the problem to me was, would the maddened horses keep to the road or take to the veld when they came to it. I had not to wait long for the solution. The horses, the moment they felt the whip, and found their heads loose, at once broke into a tearing gallop. Reaching the bend in next door to no time, they took to the veld and tore wildly across it, making straight for the long line of willows that marked the river’s bank. Here we were bound to come a most unholy smash, provided we ever reached it, but I knew there were far too many ant-heaps on the way, and to run against any one of these, which we were sure to do, would be quite enough to upset our apple-cart. From the moment Conway threw away the ribbons I knew I must come an awful mucker, and had philosophically prepared myself for the inevitable smash. He simply leant back in his seat, giving vent to his peculiar bursts of laughter, while the other two, sobered up by the danger, howled curses, entreaties and pious ejaculations in a duet that would have been highly diverting under other circumstances. Now events that are inevitable usually happen—at least, that is my experience—and we had not travelled far across the veld when the off-side wheel of the cart struck an ant-heap, some two feet high, bang in the middle, when I immediately and involuntarily vacated my seat. Yes; I left it in the same manner as a war rocket should leave its trough, and I described the same sort of a flight as one of those infernal machines very often used to do, for when I had described a parabola through the air, and had reached the full height of the trajectory, I turned a complete somersault. Then my specific gravity bringing me back to mother earth, I landed on my feet, ran a few yards so as to ease off the momentum of my flight, and came to a halt, devil a cent the worse. This was luck, and I turned round to see what had become of my companions, one or more of whom I feared must be badly hurt. Conway was all right, that was evident, as he was sitting on an ant-heap taking a pull at a bottle of whisky that had somehow escaped the debacle. Looking round, I saw the horses still galloping, dragging the remains of the cart, smashed to flinders, behind them. They disappeared among the willows, and I could conjecture the awful mess there must be at the foot of the river’s bank. I longed to go to their assistance, for I dearly love a horse, but I first turned to our two mates, for although they were, in my opinion, far the worse brutes, still they were human brutes, and fashion makes us serve them first. Going to them as they lay amidst a debris of lamps, cushions, karosses, etc., I saw one of them was not only knocked silly but had broken his left arm and, by the way he breathed and looked, I diagnosed concussion of the brain. The other had broken his left leg, had acquired a beautiful gravel rash all over his face and was swearing at old Conway with much volubility. I was rendering the poor devils first aid, and begging Conway to walk on to the hotel to get more help, when we were hailed from the road by a well-known Kimberley sawbones, who, having providentially viewed the smash-up from a cross-road, had borne down to our assistance. A mob of Dutchmen and waggon boys were also on their way from the hotel, so I was able to go and look after the horses, borrowing a Boer’s rifle en route. On reaching the poor beasts I found them lying in a tangled heap at the bottom of a steep bank. The cart was smashed to matchwood, and I had to shoot two of the nags, while the others we extricated with great trouble, both of them being badly hurt.

This was the finale of my first joy ride with Mad Conway, and though I enjoyed many subsequent ones, none of them were so exciting as the first. I could yarn to you all night about this extraordinary critter, and on some future date may give you further reminiscences about him; but I think you will allow, from what I have told you, that he was a very queer card indeed.

CHAPTER III
A CONVERSION THAT FAILED

It has always been a source of wonder to me why so many people change their religion, for, although I have never had the time, opportunity, or perhaps the inclination, to study theology in any part of its ramifications, and have never even read the Thirty-Nine Articles which caused the fancy religionists not only to desert their Church, but has now enabled them, through their co-operation with rebels, atheists, socialists and a gang of men who, so long as they can hang on to power, are ready to play any dishonourable game, to gratify their rancorous spite in looting the said Church, my astonishment still remains. Yet very many people of all classes are frequently chucking up the faith of their fathers and joining another. No doubt some of these are actuated by sincere religious convictions, but I think the majority of them are prompted by the desire in some way to better themselves in this life. For instance, to remove an obstacle that prevents them from making an advantageous marriage, to succeed to property, to advance themselves in society or to make money. Still, there are plenty of people who swap their fire insurance policy for other motives, not even so respectable as the few I have enumerated, and one sinner told me that, having been a very bad hat during early manhood, he had joined the R.C. Church as he had been assured that by doing so he had cleaned his slate of the accumulation of his past sins and had thereby choused Old Nick. This may or may not have been the case, but anyhow he was very ready to contract fresh obligations with the Old Gentleman, as before we parted he managed to swindle me out of a fiver; so that after mature consideration I came to the conclusion that he was not a brand that was likely to be snatched from the burning, thanks to his change of religion, but was still a very bad hat indeed.

Now anyone can understand, although he may not admire, a man who, prompted by greed, love or interest, changes his mode of worship. But the man who I am going to yarn to you about was not an individual of this class, and, moreover, although he was most charitably disposed, and always ready to plank down a cheque for any good purpose, yet as a rule he did not pan out on religious matters at all, and knew as much about dogma as a chimpanzee does about snowballing. But let me start the yarn from the beginning.

During the latter eighties, when I was adjutant of the D.F.H., and was located at De Toits Pan, there lived on the same diamond diggings a man who carried on the trade of baker, and whom I shall designate by his Boer name of Davy. Now Davy had begun life as a ship’s baker, and having followed the sea for many years had drifted up to the diamond fields in the early times, had started in at his trade and had prospered exceedingly, so that when I knew him he was a rich man, and justly very popular with the diggers. In person he was of medium height, thick-set, with great rounded shoulders, on which was stuck, for he had not much neck to boast of, a huge round head that, owing perhaps to the effects of early piety, was as devoid of hair as a Little Englander is of patriotism. As regards manners, he was rather brusque, and until he came to know you was a bit repellent, and was totally uneducated. But he was a white man right through, and many a score of women and children would have had to go hungry to roost, during hard times, had good old Davy cut off supplying bread, although the betting might be decidedly against his ever pouching a single ticky (threepenny piece) of their money. Now, this old worthy, who as a rule never attended any Gospel Mill, and was as devoid of theologic controversy as one of his loaves of bread, nevertheless, whenever he indulged in an occasional burst always developed the idiosyncrasy that he must change his religion, and would promptly set to work to do so. What faith he had been brought up in originally (if any) I know not, and I doubt if he knew himself, but he tried all there were on the diamond fields (and owing to the polyglot crowd located on the diggings there were many), with the exception of the Hebrew, from which ancient cult Davy shied, as he always affirmed there was an obstacle in the way, which required to be removed before he could become a proselyte in the Synagogue.