“The brutes!” I muttered; “they must be half-savages still to treat one like this; but it was all that wretched renegade’s work. I wonder whether I shall ever meet him again. I believe he’s a miserable coward. I’ll soon see if I do. Oh, if I can only get amongst our people, and join them!”
These thoughts made me feel hot, and I lay back picturing all that had taken place at our farm; but as the pain in my limbs died down, so did my rage against the Irish captain, and I began looking round again, thinking how beautiful the desert place looked, and what effects were produced among the mountains by the changes in the atmosphere. Then I fell to watching Sandho, and then the soft effects grew hazy, and—then hazier—and very dark, but not so dark but that I could see Joeboy’s big face as he leaned over me and said softly, “Boss Val been asleep?”
“No,” I said sharply.
“Um!” whispered Joeboy, laying his hand across my mouth. “Boer jus’ there. Lots. Plenty horses.”
“Why, it’s night,” I said in a whisper as I looked round in wonder.
“Um!”
“Where’s Sandho?”
Joeboy nodded his head; and, looking in the direction indicated, I could just see the shadowy form of my grazing horse, not above eight or ten feet away.
“Have I been asleep all this time?” I said, with a strange feeling of shame troubling me.
“Um! Plenty sleep,” replied Joeboy. “Now ready? Come ’long.”