“All right,” said Ingleborough; “but I want my supper very badly.”
“Want to eat? Yes; come in! The vrouw says it is nearly ready.”
“That’s right; then let’s have it.”
“You can come in the house,” continued the farmer, and Ingleborough raised his eyebrows a little in surprise.
But a greater surprise awaited the pair on entering the mud-floored room to find quite a decent meal awaiting them on the table, and their sour-looking heavy hostess ready to wait on them with a kind of surly civility.
The pair were too hungry to think of anything then but appeasing their appetite, and they made a good meal, their host making no scruple about bringing a stool to the table and taking a larger share than either.
He said little, but his little keen eyes examined everything in connection with his visitors’ costume, paying most heed to their weapons, while his wife saw to the wants of all from time to time, retiring at intervals to a second room which led out of the first and seemed to have been added quite lately.
“You’ll want to sleep soon?” said the farmer inquiringly, when the meal was ended.
“Yes, the sooner the better,” said Ingleborough, rising; an example followed by West; “and we shall be off in the morning early. We’ll take a couple of these cakes.”
The Boer nodded.