“Look here, Philip, I don’t like this! I am risking the biggest part of my fortune, and possibly my own life, to help on the cause, but I draw the line at giving up my son also.”
Clarence sprang forward with a joyous cry, and flung his arms impulsively round his father’s neck.
“Oh, father, how happy you have made me by those words! So you are not, after all, a tame serf?”
“Wait, Clarence. I am speaking to Mr Martin at present,” said his father, gravely, at the same time pushing him away gently.
“I have learnt enough from these lads, Mr Raybold, to know that no power on earth will keep them out of the fun if they live in Johannesburg,” answered Philip Martin, calmly. “If we don’t show them what is going on under the surface, they are too recently from the home of freedom to be able to endure the life here.”
“I can send them away.”
“Where? To Rhodesia, where they will be picked up and utilised by our friends outside?”
Mr Raybold remained silent, as if he had not a reply handy.
“Best get them initiated first,” continued Philip, “and then they will be able to hold their own. Cecil Rhodes has already seen them, and trusts them, young as they are; and you know he is not the man to make many mistakes. Besides, think of your son’s feelings. He must respect his father. Just give him a chance to speak for himself.”
“Yes, father; let us go with Mr Martin. I want to be proud as well as fond of my father. We all want to help to shake down this horrible tyranny, and we can be trusted.”