CHAPTER XXI
THE OTHER VAN DER WYCK
It was an embarrassing situation. To expect to find a friend and be confronted by an utter stranger was decidedly disconcerting. The chums found themselves wishing that they had not been so exuberant.
Instead of the tall, bearded Piet Van der Wyck, they saw a sparely-built, grey-haired and white-bearded man of between sixty and seventy, who was busily engaged in wiping down the legs of a black horse.
Perhaps, after all, Van der Wyck was somewhere in the stables, and this old man was one of his friends who had accompanied him on his long trek. Colonel Narfield had not mentioned that Van der Wyck had a companion, but that might have been an omission.
The old man desisted from his task and straightened himself laboriously. Then he looked at the two chums. Of the three he was the least concerned. In a strange place he naturally expected to meet strangers.
"Good day!" he exclaimed slowly, in English, with the accent common to the Cape Dutch when speaking any language but their own.
"Good day," replied Colin. "We rather startled you when we barged in here. We came to see Mr. Van der Wyck."
"I am Van der Wyck," replied the stranger gravely.