A SORE STRAIT.

"Stop and watch," said d.y.k.e; and leaving the dog in charge, he went out into the glorious light of day, feeling strong now, but horribly weak.

A contradiction, but a fact, for though he had drunk of the cool fresh water several times, he had taken nothing since the previous morning, and if he had to nurse Emson back to life, he knew that he must gather force by means of food.

He had to carry on the work of the place still, he felt, as his brother was helpless; and as he walked round to the back of the premises, he began to feel something like wonder at the terrible despair from which he had suffered since his return. For everything looked so bright and cheery and home-like, and the world around him so beautiful, that he felt ready for any new struggle in the great fight for life.

"She's always squatting over a fire," said d.y.k.e to himself, as he went round to the back, for there was Tanta Sal down in a wonderfully frog-like att.i.tude, turning herself into a very vigorous natural bellows, to make the fire glow under the kettle.

She looked up and smiled, drawing back her thick lips as the lad approached.

"Baas Joe die?" she said.

"Look here!" roared d.y.k.e fiercely: "don't you say that to me again.

No--_No_--No--No!"

Tanta Sal stared at him and shook her head.

"Breakfast!" cried d.y.k.e laconically.

That she understood, and d.y.k.e hurried away to take a sharp glance round before going back to his brother's side.

It was needed. The cows were not milked, and not likely to be; the horses had not been fed, and the ostriches were clamouring for food.

Just then he saw Jack peeping at him from round the corner of one of the sheds; but as soon as he caught sight of his young master, he drew back.

Instead of going on, d.y.k.e darted round to the other side of the building, knowing full well that if he ran after him, Jack would dash off more quickly than he could. So stopping and creeping on over the sand, he peeped round and saw the man before him just about to perform the same act. Consequently d.y.k.e was able to pounce upon the Kaffir, whom he seized by the waist-cloth.

"Here, I want you," he cried sternly, and in a gruff voice which he hardly knew for his own.

"Baas want?"

"Yes: go and begin milking the cows. I'll send Tant to you directly."

The man showed his teeth, and stood shaking his head.

To his utter astonishment d.y.k.e shifted his grasp, and caught him by the throat with one hand, and shook his fist in his face.

"Look here," he said; "you can understand English when you like, and you've got to understand it now. Baas Joe's sick."

"Baas Joe go die," said the man.

"Baas Joe go live," cried d.y.k.e fiercely, "and he'll flog you well if you don't behave yourself. You go and milk those two cows, and then feed the ostriches and horses, or I'll fetch Duke to watch you, so look out."

Jack's jaw dropped at the mention of the dog, and he hurried away; while d.y.k.e, after a glance at the wagon, which stood just where it had been dragged with its load, was about to re-enter the house, when he caught sight of three Kaffirs watching him from beyond one of the ostrich-pens.

"Who are you?" he said to himself. "What do they want?"

He went quickly toward them, but they turned and fled as hard as they could go, a.s.segai in hand, and the boy stopped and watched them for some time, thinking very seriously, for he began to divine what it all meant.

"They have heard from Tant that Joe is dying, and I suppose I'm n.o.body.

They are hanging about to share everything in the place with our two; but--"

d.y.k.e's _but_ meant a good deal. The position was growing serious, yet he did not feel dismayed, for, to use his own words, it seemed to stir him up to show fight.

"And I will, too," he said through his teeth. "I'll let 'em see."

He went back into the house to find Emson sleeping, and apparently neither he nor the dog had moved.

"Ah, Duke, that's right," said d.y.k.e. "I shall want you. You can keep watch for me when I go away."

Just then Tanta Sal came in, smiling, to tell him that breakfast was ready, and he began to question her about when his brother was taken ill. But either from obtuseness or obstinacy, he could get nothing from the woman, and he was about to let her go while he ate his breakfast of mealie cake and hot milk; but a sudden thought occurred to him. Had those Kaffirs been about there before?

He asked the woman, but in a moment her smile had gone, and she was staring at him helplessly, apparently quite unable to comprehend the drift of his questions; so he turned from her in a pet, to hurry through his breakfast, thinking the while of what he had better do.

He soon decided upon his first step, and that was to try and get Jack off to Morgenstern's with his letter; and after attending to Emson and repeating the medicine he had given the previous day, he went out, to find that the animals had been fed, and that Jack was having his own breakfast with his wife.

There was a smile for him directly from both, and he plunged into his business at once; but as he went on, the smiles died out, and all he said was received in a dull, stolid way. Neither Jack nor his wife would understand what he meant--their denseness was impenetrable.

"It's of no use to threaten him," said d.y.k.e to himself, as he went back; "he would only run away and take Tant with him, and then I should be ten times worse off than I am now. I must go myself. Yes, I could take two horses, and ride first one and then the other, and so set over the round faster. I could do it in a third of the time."

But he shook his head wearily as he glanced at where Emson lay.

"I dare not leave him to them. I should never see him again alive."

It was quite plain: the Kaffirs had marked down the baas for dead, and unless watched, they would not trouble themselves to try to save him by moving a hand.

d.y.k.e shuddered, for if he were absent he felt the possibility of one of the strangers he had seen, helping them so as to share or rob. No: he dared not go.

But could he not have the wagon made comfortable, store it with necessaries, get Emson lifted in, and then drive the oxen himself?

It took no consideration. It would be madness, he felt, to attempt such a thing. It would be fatal at once, he knew; and, besides, he dared not take the sick man on such a journey without being sure that he would be received at the house at the journey's end.

No: that was impossible.

Another thought. It was evident that Jack was determined not to go back alone to Morgenstern's, but would it be possible to send a more faithful messenger--the dog? He had read of dogs being sent to places with despatches attached to their collars. Why should not Duke go? He knew the way, and once made to understand--

d.y.k.e shook his head. It was too much to expect. The journey was too long. How was the dog to be protected from wild beasts at night, and allowing that he could run the gauntlet of those dangers, how was the poor brute to be fed?

"No, no, no," cried the boy pa.s.sionately; "it is too much to think. It is fate, and I must see Joe through it myself. He is better, I am sure."

There was every reason for thinking so, and nurturing the hope that his brother had taken the turn, d.y.k.e determined to set to work and go on as if all was well--just as if Emson were about and seeing to things himself.

"You know I wouldn't neglect you, old chap," he said affectionately, as he bent over the couch and gazed in the sunken features; "I shall be close by, and will keep on coming in."

Then a thought struck him, and he called the watchful dog away and fed him, before sending him back to the bedside, and going out to examine the ostriches more closely.

d.y.k.e's heart sank as he visited pen after pen. Either from neglect or disease, several of the birds had died, and were lying about the place, partly eaten by jackals; while of the young ones hatched from the nest of eggs brought home with such high hopes, not one was left.