“Yes; that will do nicely. Come, boys, if you are ready we’ll start.”
They found horses already saddled waiting for them at the front door, and together they cantered down the avenue and out to the main road.
The moon was just rising as they started, and very soon it was shining upon their faces and casting long black shadows behind them. The three boys were filled with eagerness, not so much to see the town as to be introduced to that mysterious club.
They had about four miles to ride before they reached the centre of the city, and through most of this distance they were passing private villas and gardens. The mines were situated on the other side of the city.
Under the silver lustre of the moon, with the dark mystery of shadow which the shrubs and trees cast, these suburbs appeared to be centuries old. From the window-blinds of the mansions shone the mellow lamplights, while the sounds of singing and music all added to the charm of that warm and radiant night.
Many people were out on the road, enjoying the beauty of the night—parties on horseback, lovers, natives, and not a few children. They all appeared happy and careless enough.
Soon they came to the more crowded parts, all brightly lighted up with electric globes and gas-jets. Many of the shops were still open and doing a thriving trade. The hotels and canteens were, as usual, crowded, while the side paths were filled with pedestrians. All the citizens of Johannesburg seemed to be on the streets at this time, and a strange gathering of nationalities they were.
“We have some of the worst blackguards on the face of the globe here,” observed Philip, as they rode slowly along Pritchard Street.
“And some of the greatest cowards also, I should say,” replied Ned.
“You are right; blackguards are very seldom brave men, although, of course, there are exceptions to every rule.”