“Um! Joeboy carry.”
“No, no,” I replied. “We must part now, Joeboy. I can’t go back home, nor stay here.”
Joeboy shook his head.
“No stop,” he said. “All bad.”
“You don’t understand,” I said.
“Um!” he said, nodding. “Joeboy know. Boss Val fight Boers.”
“Perhaps; but you must go back and help my father if he has to leave the farm.”
There was another shake of the head and a frown; then a silence, during which the great black seemed to be thinking out what he was to say in English to make his meaning clear. At last it came as he sat there with his shield on one side, his assagais on the other; and, to my surprise, he took up the big stabbing weapon and one of the light throwing-shafts before touching me on the chest with a finger.
“Boss John big boss,” he said solemnly. “Boss Val little boss;” and he held up the two spears to illustrate his words. “Big boss say, ‘Go ’long my boy.’ Little boss say, ‘Go ’long my dad.’ Joeboy say, ‘Don’t car’; shan’t go. Got to go ’long Boss Val.’”
“My father told you this?”