For Rough’un was a dog of a different breed to his fellows, and though he hunted with them he did not associate with them afterwards, but kept himself to himself.
There was not much to interest the boys after the first excitement of the start was over, for they had to travel over plain and mountain for some distance before they would reach ground that had not been well hunted over by the settlers; but every step took them nearer, and there were endless matters to canvass. For instance, there were the capabilities of their horses, which grew in favour every time they were mounted; the excellences of their guns, presented to them by their father for the expedition, light handy pieces, double-barrelled breechloaders, the right-hand barrel being that of an ordinary shot-gun, the left-hand being a rifle sighted up to three hundred yards.
It would be hard to say how many times these guns were loaded and unloaded, slung across their owners’ backs and taken down again, while the eagerness with which they looked forward to some good opening for trying their skill was notable.
But beyond an occasional bird which fled with a loud cry at the approach of the waggon, and a little herd of springbok seen upon the edge of a low hill quite a mile away, there was little to break the monotony of the journey over the hot sandy waste, and every one was pretty weary when, just at sundown, they came in sight of a low house, the abode of a Boer who had settled there some years before, and who, with his large family, seemed to be perfectly content, and who smiled with satisfaction on being presented with some sweets in return for his civility in pointing out the places where the out-spanned oxen could find an abundance of grass and water.
Here the first experience of sleeping in a waggon was gone through, and very comical it seemed to boys who were accustomed to the comforts of a well-regulated home.
Dick laughed, and said that it was like sleeping in the attic, while the servants slept in the kitchen, for the drivers and the three Zulus made themselves snug under the waggon, Dinny joining them very unwillingly, after a verbal encounter with Dick, who, however much he might be wanting in bodily strength, was pretty apt with his tongue.
“Sure, Masther Dick, sir, Dinny’s the last boy in the world to grumble; but I’m a good Christian, and the blacks are as haythen as can be.”
“Well, Dinny, and what of that?”
“Why, ye see, Masther Dick, I’m a white man, and they are all blacks; and,” he added with a grin, “I shouldn’t like to catch the complaint.”
“What complaint, Dinny?”