The next morning Oscar dressed himself in one of the moleskin suits he had purchased in England and packed his trunk, which was stowed away in the wagon.
He had ordered his driver to start for Howick at an early hour, and when he went downstairs he found everything in readiness for inspanning as soon as the oxen were brought from the pound.
His interpreter and the two Hottentots had gone after them. Paddy O'Brian occupied his usual seat on the dissel-boom, twirling his stick in one hand and holding fast to a saddled horse with the other. Oscar opened the window and Paddy got upon his feet.
"Good-morning to your honor!" he exclaimed. "An' can I go now, I dunno?"
"Yes, go on," answered Oscar. "But be sure and join the wagon when you hear it go by the house."
Paddy got into the saddle and rode off to pay his last visit to his sweetheart, and to present her with a few trifles he had purchased with the two sovereigns he had earned by his devotion to duty.
Barlow, who was always on the watch, saw him ride out of the gate, and, believing that the wagon was left unguarded, made all haste to send his man Thomas into the stable-yard to operate on the trek-tow with his saw. But Oscar, who was on the watch, detected him in the act, and defeated his plans, as we have already described.
While the boy stood at the window Colonel Dunhaven, utterly disgusted with his short experience of African life, came into the room, and after using some pretty strong language regarding the country and Oscar's business in it, began to talk of selling out and going home.
Our hero had a long conversation with him, and during its progress the colonel was amazed to learn that the humble American youth had brought with him letters from some of the best known men in England.
Then his icy reserve melted, and he was as affable as one could wish; but he did not succeed in working his way into Oscar's good graces. It was too late. The boy, as we have said, had seen quite enough of him.