Thrusting his hand into the inside pocket of his coat, he took out a well-worn wallet and produced from it something that looked like a watch-spring.
"The teeth are pretty small, but they have cut through a heap of iron," said he, drawing the spring out to its full length.
"If you can give them a chance to cut into the Yankee's trek-tow it will be the best job they ever did for us," said Barlow. "If he buys his oxen and wagons of the farmers, and his supplies at Maritzburg, his outfit will be a splendid one, and breaking him down will be as good as finding a new diamond field. We're going to see fun in a few days. There's another chap in town—a colonel of something or other—who has been taken in hand by Harris and the rest of the boys. They have sold him a wagon and a span of oxen at a good price, and contracted to furnish him with supplies here in Durban. They have hired the right kind of men for him, and when he tries to climb the town hill he'll find himself in a fix. Won't they bleed him, though! I might have made a few pounds out of him," added the cattle-dealer, with a long-drawn sigh, "but I didn't bother with him, for I was sure I could manage this Yankee boy to suit me. No matter; he isn't out of our reach yet, and we'll make him open his eyes."
Meanwhile Oscar, all unconscious of the plans that were being laid against him, returned to Mr. Morgan's office, and reported the result of his interview with the cattle-dealer.
"Wouldn't it be a good plan for you to say a word to the colonel?" he asked, after he had told where and when he first met that gentleman. "You are a countryman of his, and might have some influence with him."
"I'll not go near him. He's a snob. His men will smash his wagon if they can't discourage him in any other way, and then desert him. You see if they don't. Now we will go to lunch, and after that we will ride out into the country to see a man who will sell you a wagon worth your money. He will sell you a span of oxen, too, but I would not advise you to buy of him,—and neither will he,—for you can do much better in Maritzburg."
When Oscar went to bed that night he was the owner of a ponderous Cape wagon, entirely new, and two salted horses, all of which had cost him £310.
He had taken a cordial leave of the editor, after thanking him for his advice and for the interest he had taken in the affairs of one who was an entire stranger to him, and at daylight the next morning seated himself in a post-cart and was driven rapidly toward Maritzburg.
He had also bargained with the farmer of whom he purchased his wagon and horses to haul his goods up from Port Natal.