Close beside the kraal was the wagon that Barlow had tried so hard to force upon our hero, and a most disreputable affair it was. It had been newly painted, to conceal some of the numerous injuries it had received during the long years it had been in service; the dissel-boom and both the axle-trees were strengthened with strips of raw-hide; the canvas tent was torn and patched in a dozen places, and the chests and water-butts looked as though they were about to fall to pieces.
The oxen feeding close by, and which were a part of "the best outfit to be had in the colony," were a fit team for such a wagon as this, for they were in strict keeping with it.
A more forlorn and vicious-looking lot of brutes it would have been hard to find anywhere. The whole concern was not worth half the money Barlow had demanded for the wagon alone.
"Well, Thomas," said the cattle-dealer as soon as he came within speaking distance of his friend, "that little game is blocked."
Thomas uttered a rough exclamation and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. He looked disappointed as well as angry.
It was plain that these two worthies had hoped to make something handsome out of Oscar.
"Yes," continued Barlow, "it's blocked. I had thought to rope him in very easy, but he's much too knowing."
"I didn't expect any of the time that you could do anything with him," growled Thomas. "They say that those fellows from the other side the pond are awful sharp, and cut their eye-teeth early."
"And aren't we sharp, too, I'd like to know?" demanded Barlow. "He hasn't got out of the colony yet. I told him that I had seen more than one traveller break down before he got over the town hill, and we must see to it that he breaks down, too. Understand?"
"I think I do," answered Thomas, with a grin.