“That was the one the milk came in that night,” said Geddy, in a whisper. “I remember spilling some on account of that nick, and then I noticed the wire.”
His companion nodded. It was not an important nor even a very interesting discovery.
The younger waited a little, and then, slightly disgusted at the other’s slowness, said:
“Well, either he sent the grub to us himself or—”
“Or what?”
“Or— Where’s the missis?”
They took in the room at a glance; but there was no answering evidence there. And when they joined Nairn they found that there were easy-chairs in the dining-room; so there they sat and smoked, and watched the rain set in as the regular spring drizzle does above the Berg.
The chairs, like the rest of the furniture, were rough-made from bushwood; but it seemed odd that a hermit should have three. There was a bookcase in the room, and it was full of well-bound and well-worn books, “mostly odd volumes—very few series,” as Geddy remarked afterwards. There were a good many books of science, and all the poets he could recall; and there were books in Latin, French, Greek, and German. Somehow he did not like to ask the real questions he wanted to put about the books. He did not quite know how far to go. In reply to one question, Nairn had said dryly that he had brought them with him, and was apparently indisposed to say more. He was not an easy man to draw.
During the day they had evidence of the respect in which Nairn was held by his dependents. He spoke to them in the lowest possible voice and in the fewest possible words, and never—except once, when something had occurred which annoyed him—never looked at, or even in the direction of the individual addressed. On that occasion he was asking a question of a tall and remarkably good-looking Swazie woman.
She stood like a bronze statue while he spoke, and when he looked at her and his eyes blazed anger, although his voice did not alter, the colour rose to the woman’s face, and turned her brown skin a reddish-bronze. Her head was slowly lowered, and the only answer was a faint whisper of the word, “Inkos—chief!” The incident was trifling, but Geddy noticed it, and noted that his way with his boys and the men about the place was the same, and began to see why they called him “Induna Nairn.”