"Oh, Meeses!" exclaimed Jan, as if such a thing was quite out of the question, "not me. It must ha' bin April."
"No, Meeses—not me, Jan," said April.
"It was both of you, I have no doubt," said Mrs. Gilbert severely.
"Oh, Meeses, April, April!" cried Jan, shaking his head.
"No, it was Jan," protested the leader, again.
Jan burst into a roar of laughter, like a naughty child owning up. "Oh! ja, Meeses! It was me. I looked at that tin of butter and then I said to April, 'I must have some of that lovely butter, whatever comes of it,' and then between us, it's all gone."
It seemed impossible to deal with the offence gravely after that. "I shall know I must not leave any in the wagon another time," said the mistress; and we scrambled into our places to be out of the way while the work of inspanning went on.
A Fiery Day
The morning turned into a fiery day. The air shimmered blindingly above the veldt, and the white road, inches deep in dust, trailed ahead like an endless serpent. We panted and gasped under the shelter of the tent; April abandoned his post and climbed up in the back compartment of the wagon, but Jan grew more and more lively.
He tightened his waist-belt and ran by the side of his team, encouraging them by voice and example.