“We shan’t be able to proceed any farther to-day,” remarked the farmer. “The ground will be too soft to travel upon for ten or twelve hours, even under this hot sun. We must make ourselves as comfortable as we can for the night.”
The necessary arrangements were accordingly made. The horses were hobbled, and turned out to graze. A fire was lighted, at which supper was cooked; and after the meal the males of the party sat down to smoke their pipes by it, for the night air after the rain was chilly. Mrs Baylen and Clara retired to rest in their waggon.
“I should like to hear the history of your life in South Africa,” said George, as he threw another log on the fire. “I think you said you came into these parts when you were quite a lad, and that, I judge, cannot be less than fifty years ago. You must remember a great many changes, and probably have gone through some strange adventures. If you don’t feel disposed for sleep just yet, I wish you would give us the benefit of your experiences. Redgy and I would be greatly interested to hear them.”
“Father won’t object to that,” said Wilhelm with a smile. “Nothing pleases him better than to tell us stories about his young days.”
“And they’re worth hearing too,” added Ernest. “I suppose I’ve heard most of ’em more than once, but I always like to hear them again. I only wish Clarchen were with us. She enjoys them even more than I do.”
Chapter Seven.
“Well, Mr Rivers,” began Farmer Baylen, “I don’t know why I shouldn’t gratify your fancy. It is certain that I and mine have been a long time in the colony, and know pretty well all that has happened in it during this century. And what has happened there during this century is pretty nearly all the history it has. Between the time when my mother’s ancestors first settled at the Cape, and the time when the English captured it, it can hardly be said to have had any history at all.”
“It was a period of a hundred and fifty years, though, wasn’t it?” suggested George.