"But I am not an Englishman," said Oscar. "Ask them if they ever heard of America. I don't suppose they ever did," he added to himself.
In this the boy was happily mistaken. The Boers could not understand all he said (it turned out afterward that they were by no means as ignorant of the English language as they pretended to be), but they caught the word "America," and straightway began to exhibit a lively interest in our hero—that is, as lively an interest as men of their temperament could exhibit in anything.
They took their pipes out of their mouths and looked at him, while something that was doubtless intended for a smile overspread their faces.
When the boy walked up and offered them his hand they took it and shook it cordially.
"Now, Thompson, ask them again if they will come over and have some coffee," said Oscar.
The men did not refuse this time. A Boer is very fond of coffee, and although there are few of them who will spend any of their own money for it, they are quite willing to drink it when it is provided at the expense of somebody else.
Oscar's guests emptied their cups almost as fast as Paddy O'Brian could fill them, and poured the hot liquid down their throats in a way that made that worthy individual open his eyes.
"Now, Thompson," said Oscar when the huge coffee-pot had been drained of its last drop, "tell them that if they will help me pull my wagon over the Drackenberg I will help them pull theirs over."
This was a very plain and simple proposition, and it seemed as though anybody ought to have understood it; but it was evident that the Boers did not.