Notwithstanding the awful jolting of the cart, Jess had been asleep for the last two hours. Her arm was hooked round the back of the seat, and her head rested against John’s great-coat, which he had fixed up in such a way as to make a pillow. “Where are we?” she asked, waking up with a start as the cart stopped. “I have had such a bad dream! I dreamt that I was travelling through life, and that suddenly everything stopped, and I was dead.”
“I don’t wonder at it,” laughed John; “the road for the last ten miles has been as rough as anybody’s life. We are at the hotel. Here are the boys to take the horses,” and he clambered stiffly out of the cart and helped or rather lifted her down, for she was almost too cramped to move.
Standing at the inn-door, holding a light above her head, they found a pleasant-looking Englishwoman, who welcomed them heartily.
“Frank Muller was here three hours ago, and told me to expect you,” she said; “and very glad I am to see an English face again, I can tell you. My name is Gooch. Tell me, is my husband all right in Pretoria? He went up there with his waggon just before the siege began, and I have not heard a word from him since.”
“Yes,” said John, “he is all right. He was slightly wounded in the shoulder a month ago, but he has quite recovered.”
“Oh, thank God!” said the poor woman, beginning to cry; “those devils told me that he was dead—to torment me, I suppose. Come in, miss: there is some hot supper ready when you have washed your hands. The boys will see to the horses.”
Accordingly they entered, and were made as happy as a good supper, a hearty welcome, and comfortable beds could make people in their condition.
In the early morning one of their estimable escort sent in a message to say that they were not to start before half-past ten, as the horses required more rest, so they enjoyed some hours longer in bed than they had expected, and anybody who has ever made a journey in a post-cart in South Africa can understand the blessing thereof. At nine they breakfasted, and as the clock struck half-past ten Mouti brought the cart round, and with it came the two Boers.
“Well, Mrs. Gooch,” said John, “what do we owe you?”
“Nothing, Captain Niel, nothing. If you only knew what a weight you have taken off my mind! Besides, we are quite ruined; the Boers have looted all my husband’s cattle and horses, and until last week six of them were quartered on me without paying a farthing, so it makes no odds to me.”