"Been looting, I see, Pat," said Jack laughingly.
"Well, sorr, they took the masther's gold," observed Pat, with a grin, "an' thinks I, as the ould sayin' goes, fair exchange is no robbery. Av course, sorr, I've been on the look-out for a bit av loot. You will take the coins, Masther Jack?"
"No, no, my dear fellow; keep them yourself, if your conscience will allow you."
"I'm not a thafe, sorr," said Pat. "I only thought that all was fair in love an' war—although, the saints be praised, Pat O'Neill has never been such a fool as to fall in love wid any woman yet."
"I meant no harm, Pat," observed Jack. "You get more fiery as you get older."
"All right, Masther Jack; I'll stick to the money until your father gets back his five hundred pounds. But I got something else from the burgher I took these from."
"And pray what is that?" inquired Jack.
"Only a few glass stones, sorr," replied the Irishman; and he stretched out his palm, on which reposed a dozen or more little "glass stones."
"I think they're diamonds, sorr," said Pat, "but I'm no hand at knowing jewellery."
Sergeant Morton was passing on his way to the ostrich kraal, and Jack called to him.