He had no personal fear of him; his fears were all for Millie. His love was teaching him stratagem.
His eyelids did not flicker, he did not even remove his pipe from his mouth. Amurrica's eyes were boring him like gimlets, but he puffed calmly on, his thoughts racing each other over the well-known ground. What was he to do?
"Who told you?" he presently vouchsafed.
"Met Boka, galloping for the doctor like the very devil."
Boka was one of Lutwyche's Kaffirs.
Bert asked no question, manifested no curiosity; but the other was full of news, and intent upon imparting it.
"Said the gal had made him sleep in the kitchen nights, for a week past, 'n case she needed to call him up. To-night, down she come with a face like chalk, and told him to ride like hell: said he judged by the looks of her the ole man was gone already."
Again there was a silence, while both smoked. Bert presently spoke—two words:
"Mayne there?"
"Mayne? Not that I know of." A surprised inflection in the voice.