The old Boer pulled up his pony, and gazed around him in a mystified fashion.
“Here, Oom Coetzee! Here!”
“Allemachter!” he said, jerking his pony round. “It’s you, Missie Jess, is it? Now who would have thought of seeing you here?”
“Who would have thought of seeing you here?” she answered.
“Yes, yes; it seems strange; I dare say that it seems strange. But I am a messenger of peace, like Uncle Noah’s dove in the ark, you know. The fact is,” and he glanced round to see if anybody was listening, “I have been sent by the Government to arrange about an exchange of prisoners.”
“The Government! What Government?”
“What Government? Why, the Triumvirate, of course—whom may the Lord bless and prosper, as He did Jonah when he walked on the wall of the city.”
“Joshua, when he walked round the wall of the city,” suggested Jess. “Jonah walked down the whale’s throat.”
“Ah! to be sure, so he did, and blew a trumpet inside. I remember now; though I am sure I don’t know how he did it. The fact is that our glorious victories have quite confused me. Ah! what a thing it is to be a patriot! The dear Lord makes strong the arm of the patriot, and takes care that he hits his man well in the middle.”
“You have turned wonderfully patriotic all of a sudden, Oom Coetzee,” said Jess tartly.