“What is the ‘tsetse,’ Major Flinders?” inquired George Weston, who was a lad with a thirst for knowledge of any description.
“A most intolerable nuisance, George,” replied the Major; “in the shape of a small, brownish-yellow fly, which attacks horses and cattle, too often causing their death; for the bite of this insect produces blood-poisoning, and that generally proves fatal. Oddly enough human beings rarely suffer any ill effects from the bite.”
“Jot that down, Geordie,” laughed Tom.
“I think I will,” quietly observed his friend, suiting the action to the word.
“Quite right, my boy,” said Major Flinders, with an approving nod; “pick up information whenever you can; you never can tell when it may not prove useful. But to proceed! Just now horses are very dear in these parts, and high prices are being offered in Cape Town even for unbroken colts and fillies. I heard some time ago from Jamieson that he had several young horses to dispose of, so I thought we might combine business and pleasure.”
“Good!” assented his friend.
“Jamieson mentioned in his letter,” continued the Major, “that he wanted two good Cape-carts and four sets of double-harness from Muter in Berge Street, besides a host of other things which are not to be had for love or money in his parts; and I propose, therefore, to purchase all he requires in Cape Town, go round by sea to Mossel Bay, and from thence ‘trek’ up country to Ralfontein, where he lives. If Jamieson has any suitable horses we can take them off his hands and bring them down to Cape Town; when the price we shall get for them will cover all our expenses, and leave a good profit into the bargain. As for sport, we shall have our fill of it; altogether the trip, at this season of the year, should prove most enjoyable. Now, what say you?”
“Capital! excellent, my dear Mat!” exclaimed Mr Weston. “When do you propose to start, and who are to form the party?”
“Well,” the Major answered, “I saw Muter yesterday, and he has three carts all but finished. By putting on extra hands—which he is quite willing to do—two can be got ready for shipment in a week from this, and the sets of harness will be ready at the same time. Now, old Van Ryn’s schooner, the Knysna, makes two trips to Mossel Bay every month, and I see that she is advertised to sail on Saturday week; so we might take our passage in her, and that will give us ample time to prepare for the journey.”
“Very good,” assented Mr Weston. “And who are to go?”