THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS
The new arrival was a native, strongly resembling a Cape Kaffir. He was tall, broad shouldered, and with thin legs—a characteristic that both lads had remarked on several previous occasions.
His "costume" consisted of a battered bowler, in the hat-band of which was stuck a tuft of long feathers; a red kersey tunic, with yellow facings and no buttons; a blue loin-cloth, and an old pair of pigskin gaiters falling loosely over otherwise bare legs.
In his right hand he carried a cleft stick, in which were inserted a couple of envelopes. In his left he held a short stabbing assegai, and a canvas satchel hung across his tunic.
"The Kilembonga postboy," explained Colonel Narfield. "Not a fat mail for us this time, I'm afraid."
The native, grinning broadly, tendered the forked end of his stick to the owner of Kilembonga, saluted when the envelopes were handed over, and set off steadily for the next house—a matter of a mere thirty-five miles.
"Nothing for you, lads," remarked Colonel Narfield, scanning the two envelopes. "Letters are a bit erratic out here. We generally get the English mail on Fridays. This, apparently is a supplementary delivery. Both these, I see, bear a South African stamp."
The first was merely a business letter. The second, Colonel Narfield read through twice before handing it to the boys.
It was a letter from Van der Wyck, posted from Mafeking eight days previously. The Afrikander thanked Colonel Narfield for his kind invitation, but regretted that his farm required all his attention during the present season, and that he hoped to find an opportunity of paying a visit to East Africa after the harvest. Not a word was mentioned of Colin and Desmond.
"This wants a little explanation," observed the Colonel. "I am curious to know more about your acquaintance, Van der Wyck, and also to find out what he knows of the Makoh'lenga country. So, without mentioning the matter to you, I wrote to the address he gave you, asking him to pay a visit to Kilembonga."