"Bah! I'm not a quarrelsome fellow, but I always feel as if I must kick him. He aggravates me."

"Nice soft sort of a fellow to kick," said West, laughing.

"Ugh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ingleborough, and his foot flew out suddenly as if aimed at the person of whom they spoke. "Don't know anything about diamonds! What things people will do for the sake of a bit of glittering gla.s.s! Look here, West, for all his talk I wouldn't trust him with a consignment of stones any farther than I could see him."

"Don't be prejudiced!" said West. "You don't like him, and so you can only see his bad side."

"And that's all round," replied Ingleborough laughing. "No; I don't like him. I never do like a fellow who is an unnatural sort of a prig.

He can't help being fat and pink and smooth, but he can help his smiling, sneaky manner. I do like a fellow to be manly. Hang him! Put him in petticoats, with long hair and a bonnet, he'd look like somebody's cook. But if I had an establishment and he was mine, I should be afraid he'd put something unpleasant into my soup."

"Never mind about old Anson," said West merrily, "but look here. What about that illicit-diamond-buying? Do you think that there's much of it taking place?"

"Much?" cried his companion. "It is tremendous. The company's losing hundreds of thousands of pounds yearly."

"Nonsense!"

"It's a fact," said Ingleborough earnestly; "and no end of people are hard at work buying stolen diamonds, in spite of the constant sharp look-out kept by the police."

"But I should have thought that the licences and the strict supervision would have checked the greater part of it."

"Then you'd have thought wrong, my boy. I wish it did, for as we are going on now it makes everyone suspicious and on the look-out. I declare that for months past I never meet any of our people without fancying they suspect me of buying and selling diamonds on the sly."

"And that makes you suspicious too," said West quietly.

Ingleborough turned upon him sharply, and looked him through and through.

"What made you say that?" he said at last.

"Previous conversation," replied West.

"Humph! Well, perhaps so."

CHAPTER FOUR.

RUMOURS OF WAR.

The Diamond-Fields Horse had drilled one evening till they were tired, and after it was all over, including a fair amount of firing, the smell of blank cartridges began to give way to the more pleasant odour of tobacco smoke, the officers lighting their cigars, and the privates filling up their pipes to incense the crisp evening air.

"I'm about tired of this game," said one of a group who were chatting together; "there's too much hard work about it."

"Yes," said another. "Someone told me it was playing at soldiers. I don't see where the play comes."

"Look at the honour of it," said another. "We shall be defending the town directly from an attack by the Boers."

There was a burst of laughter at this, and when it ended the first speaker broke out contemptuously with: "The Boers! We shall have to wait a longtime before they attack us."

"I don't know so much about that," said the man who had spoken of the attack. "I believe they mean mischief."

"Bosh!" came in chorus.

"Ah, you may laugh, but they've got Majuba Hill on the brain. The idiots think they fought and thrashed the whole British Army instead of a few hundred men. Here, Ingleborough, you heard what was said?"

The young man addressed left off chatting with West and nodded.

"You went to Pretoria with the superintendent of police about that diamond case, and you were there a couple of months."

"Yes," said Ingleborough. "What of that?"

"Why, you must have seen a good deal of the Boers then!"

"Of course I did."

"Well, what do you say? Will they fight if it comes to a row?"

"Certainly they will!" replied Ingleborough.

There was a derisive laugh at his words, and West flushed a little on hearing it, as the volunteers gathered round.

"Bah! It's all bluff!" cried a voice. "They know that by holding out they can get what they want. They'd cave in directly if we showed a bold front."

"Moral," said West; "show a bold front."

"That's what we're doing," said one of the men; "but there's too much of it. Some of the officers have war on the brain, and want to force the soldiering element to the very front. We've done enough to show the Doppers that we should fight if there was any occasion. There was no drilling going on when you were at Pretoria, eh, Ingleborough?"

"Yes, there was, a good deal," said the young man slowly. "They did not make any fuss, but in a quiet way they were hard at work, especially with their gun drill."

"Gun drill!" cried one of the group contemptuously. "What, with a few rusty old cannon and some wooden quakers?"

There was a roar of laughter at this, and West coloured a little more deeply with annoyance, but Ingleborough shrugged his shoulders, turned his little finger into a tobacco-stopper, and went on smoking.

"The Boers are puffed-up with conceit," he said gravely, "and they believe that their victory at Majuba Hill has made them invincible; but all the same they've got some level-headed men amongst them, and I believe before long that it will come to a fight and that they will fight desperately."

His hearers laughed.

"What for?" shouted one.

"To drive the British out of South Africa, seize Cape Colony and Natal, and make the country a Dutch republic."

There was a momentary silence before someone cried: "I say, Ingleborough, are you going mad?"

"I hope not," said the young man quietly. "Why?"

"Because you are talking the greatest bosh I've heard for months!"

"I don't think I am," said Ingleborough gravely. "I know that the Boers are terribly inflated with vanity and belief in themselves, but they have wisdom in their heads as well."