“Goot! Now led me see der pad mensch. Zo you haf put you Kaffir in you wagon, and give him a pig ride.”
“Yes; I thought he was going to die.”
“Zo? Ah! zom beebles would haf left him oonter a dree, und zay do him: ‘Mein vrient, you had petter make youself guite well as zoon as you gan. I muss nicht shtop. Goot-bye.’ But you did bring him in dem wagon, hey?”
“Oh yes: I could not leave him.”
“You are a goot poy, my young vrient. And how is der big bruder?”
“Quite well,” said Dyke, looking uneasy as the big, frank-faced, fat, German Boer questioned him.
“Why did he not gom too? I like den big bruder.”
“Too busy minding the young ostriches.”
“Ach zo! Of goorse. Ant you make blenty of money—you gut off der vedders, and zend dem to der Gape?”
“Oh no. We’re doing very badly: the young birds die so fast.”