This scrutiny on both sides went on for some time in a silence which was at last broken by the Kaffir uttering a dismal groan which went right to Dyke’s heart.
“Ah,” said the trader softly, “boor vellow! How you vas?”
Jack uttered a more dismal groan than before.
“Ah, vas it den? Boor mans! you zeem as bad as neffer can be. You doomble off dem vagon, und dread on your vace like dot?”
“Oh!” groaned Jack. “Baas killum.”
“Did he den. Der baas kill der boor vellow dead?” Then suddenly changing his tone from one full of soft sympathy to a burst of fierce anger, he roared out: “Dunder und lightning! You get oot of dis, you oogly black, idle tog. You got sore head, und lazy as big bullock. Out you vas!”
He accompanied the fierce words with a sharp kick, and Jack bounded up and sprang clear over the wagon-box, to stand out on the trampled ground, staring wildly.
“Ah, you vait till I gom und get das ’noceros whip, und make you tance, you lazy tog. You go take den pferd to water, or you haf no zopper to-night. Roon!”
Dyke stood staring at the change that had come over the Kaffir, who ran to where the horse was tied, unfastened the rein, and led him off without a word.
The old trader chuckled.