“‘So pleased to hear you say so. I laid ’em down at the beginning of this century—a 1900 vintage. You remember ’em, Mankeltow?’ he says. ‘The Central Middlesex Buncho Busters—clerks and floorwalkers mostly,’ and he wiped his moustache. ‘It was just the same with the Liverpool Buckjumpers, but they were stevedores. Let’s see—they were a last-century draft, weren’t they? They did well after nine months. You know ’em, Van Zyl? You didn’t get much change out of ’em at Pootfontein?’
“‘No,’ says Van Zyl. ‘At Pootfontein I lost my son Andries.’
“‘I beg your pardon, Commandant,’ says the General; and the rest of the crowd sort of cooed over Adrian.
“‘Excoose,’ says Adrian. ‘It was all right. They were good men those, but it is just what I say. Some are so dam good we want to hands-up, and some are so dam bad, we say, “Take the Vierkleur into Cape Town.” It is not upright of you, Generaal. It is not upright of you at all. I do not think you ever wish this war to finish.’
“‘It’s a first-class dress-parade for Armageddon,’ says the General. ‘With luck, we ought to run half a million men through the mill. Why, we might even be able to give our Native Army a look in. Oh, not here, of course, Adrian, but down in the Colony—say a camp-of-exercise at Worcester. You mustn’t be prejudiced, Adrian. I’ve commanded a district in India, and I give you my word the native troops are splendid men.’
“‘Oh, I should not mind them at Worcester,’ says Adrian. ‘I would sell you forage for them at Worcester—yes, and Paarl and Stellenbosch; but Almighty!’ he says, ‘must I stay with Cronje till you have taught half a million of these stupid boys to ride? I shall be an old man.’
“Well, Sir, then and there they began arguing whether St. Helena would suit Adrian’s health as well as some other places they knew about, and fixing up letters of introduction to Dukes and Lords of their acquaintance, so’s Van Zyl should be well looked after. We own a fair-sized block of real estate—America does—but it made me sickish to hear this crowd fluttering round the Atlas (oh yes, they had an Atlas), and choosing stray continents for Adrian to drink his coffee in. The old man allowed he didn’t want to roost with Cronje, because one of Cronje’s kin had jumped one of his farms after Paardeberg. I forget the rights of the case, but it was interesting. They decided on a place called Umballa in India, because there was a first-class doctor there.
“So Adrian was fixed to drink the King and Foxhunting, and study up the Native Army in India (I’d like to see ’em myself), till the British General had taught the male white citizens of Great Britain how to ride. Don’t misunderstand me, Sir. I loved that General. After ten minutes I loved him, and I wanted to laugh at him; but at the same time, sitting there and hearing him talk about the centuries, I tell you, Sir, it scared me. It scared me cold! He admitted everything—he acknowledged the corn before you spoke—he was more pleased to hear that his men had been used to wipe the geldt with than I was when I knocked out Tom Reed’s two lead-horses—and he sat back and blew smoke through his nose and matured his men like cigars and—he talked of the everlastin’ centuries!
“I went to bed nearer nervous prostration than I’d come in a long time. Next morning me and Captain Mankeltow fixed up what his shrapnel had left of my Zigler for transport to the railroad. She went in on her own wheels, and I stencilled her ‘Royal Artillery Mess, Woolwich,’ on the muzzle, and he said he’d be grateful if I’d take charge of her to Cape Town, and hand her over to a man in the Ordnance there. ‘How are you fixed financially? You’ll need some money on the way home,’ he says at last.
“‘For one thing, Cap,’ I said, ‘I’m not a poor man, and for another I’m not going home. I am the captive of your bow and spear. I decline to resign office.’