The elder man was speaking seriously now. Muller felt that this was none of the whining cant people in authority among the Boers find it desirable to adopt. It was what he thought, and it chilled Muller in spite of his pretended scepticism, as the sincere belief of an intellectual man, however opposite to our own, is apt to chill us into doubt of ourselves and our opinions. For a moment his slumbering superstition awoke, and he felt half afraid. Between him and that bright future of blood and power lay a dark gulf. Suppose that gulf should be death, and the future nothing but a dream—or worse! His face fell as the idea occurred to him, and the General noticed it.
“Well,” he went on, “he who lives will see. Meanwhile you have done good service to the State, and you shall have your reward, cousin. If I am President”—he laid emphasis on this, the meaning of which his listener did not miss—“if by the support of my followers I become President, I will not forget you. And now I must up-saddle and ride back. I want to be at Laing’s Nek in sixty hours, to wait for General Wood’s answer. You will see about the sending in of those prisoners;” and he knocked out his pipe and rose.
“By the way, Meinheer,” said Muller, suddenly adopting a tone of respect, “I have a favour to ask.”
“What is it, nephew?”
“I want a pass for two friends of mine—English people—in Pretoria to go down to their relations in Wakkerstroom district. They sent a message to me by Hans Coetzee.”
“I don’t like giving passes,” answered the General with some irritation. “You know what it means, letting out messengers. I wonder you ask me.”
“It is a small favour, Meinheer, and I do not think that it will matter. Pretoria will not be besieged much longer; I am under an obligation to the people.”
“Well, well, as you like; but if any harm comes of it, you will be held responsible. Write the pass; I will sign it.”
Frank Muller sat down and wrote and dated the paper. Its contents were simple: “Pass the bearers unharmed.”
“That is big enough to drive a waggon along,” said the General, when it was handed to him to sign. “It might mean all Pretoria.”