“Been fetch de father,” cried Coffee, pushing the great Zulu towards Mr Rogers. “Father going to boss. Kill and hunt lion.”
Mr Rogers raised his eyebrows a little, for he had not reckoned upon this; but one more or less on such an expedition did not matter, for plenty of provisions would be killed; and a man like this was no little addition to their strength.
“Oh, very good,” he said. “Dinny, run into the house, and fetch the bread and meat we left. I daresay the boys are hungry.”
Coffee and Chicory understood that, and they began to grin and rub their “tum-tums,” as they called a prominent part of their persons; but the next moment they had dragged their father to introduce him to Boss Dick and Boss Jack, smiling with delight on seeing their young masters shake hands with the Zulu warrior.
Dinny did not look at all pleasant as he brought out the bread and meat, which was rapidly shared by the Zulu and his boys, who evidently meant to eat the food as they went along; so after one more look round, and a glance at the two great water-casks swung behind the waggon, Mr Rogers gave the word, Peter the driver stood up on the great chest strapped in front, cracking his whip with both hands, and Dirk the foreloper followed suit.
“Trek Hans! Trek Buffler! Trek Zulu! Trek boys! Trek!” shouted Peter, dancing about on the chest in his excitement.
“Trek, beauties! Trek, beauties! Trek! Trek! Trek!” yelled Dirk.
The oxen slowly tugged at their yokes, the great trek-tow tightened, the wheels of the fine new waggon creaked; and as Mr Rogers mounted the big bay, his sons took off and waved their caps, giving a loud cheer, for now they were really off to the wilds.