Meanwhile a very different scene was being enacted up at the house halfa mile away.
Not more than ten minutes after John and his lady-love had departed onthat fateful walk to look at the young trees, Frank Muller's stalwartform, mounted on his great black horse, was to be seen leisurelyadvancing towards the blue-gum avenue. Jantje was lurking about betweenthe stems of the trees in the peculiar fashion that is characteristicof the Hottentot, and which doubtless is bred into him after tens ofcenturies of tracking animals and hiding from enemies. There he was,slipping from trunk to trunk, and gazing round him as though he expectedeach instant to discover the assegai of an ambushed foe or to hear thefootfall of some savage beast of prey. Absolutely there was no reasonwhy he should behave in this fashion; he was simply indulging hisnatural instincts where he thought nobody would observe him. Life atMooifontein was altogether too tame and civilised for Jantje's taste,and he needed periodical recreations of this sort. Like a civilisedchild he longed for wild beasts and enemies, and if there were none athand he found a reflected satisfaction in making a pretence of theirpresence.
Presently, however, whilst they were yet a long way off, his quick earcaught the sound of the horse's footfalls, and he straightened himselfand listened. Not satisfied with the results, he laid himself down, puthis ear to the earth, and gave a guttural sound of satisfaction.
"Baas Frank's black horse," Jantje muttered to himself. "The black horsehas a cracked heel, and one foot hits the ground more softly than theothers. What is Baas Frank coming here for? After Missie I think. Hewould be mad if he knew that Missie went down to the plantation withBaas Niel just now. People go into plantations to kiss each other"(Jantje was not far out there), "and it would make Baas Frank mad if heknew that. He would strike me if I told him, or I would tell him."
The horse's hoofs were drawing near by now, so Jantje slipped as easilyand naturally as a snake into a thick tuft of rank grass which grewbetween the blue gums, and waited. Nobody would have guessed that thistuft of grass hid a human being; not even a Boer would have guessed it,unless he had happened to walk right on to the spy, and then it wouldhave been a chance but that the Hottentot managed to avoid being troddenon and escaped detection. Again there was no reason why he should hidehimself in this fashion, except that it pleased him to do so.
Presently the big horse approached, and the snakelike Hottentot raisedhis head ever so little and peered out with his beady black eyes throughthe straw-like grass stems. They fell on Muller's cold face. It wasevident that he was in a reflective mood--in an angrily reflective mood.So absorbed was he that he nearly let his horse, which was also absorbedby the near prospect of a comfortable stall, put his foot in a big holethat a wandering antbear had amused himself on the previous night bydigging exactly in the centre of the road.
"What is Baas Frank thinking of, I wonder?" said Jantje to himself ashorse and man passed within four feet of him. Then rising, he crossedthe road, and slipping round by a back way like a fox from a covert,was standing at the stable-door with a vacant and utterly unobservantexpression of face some seconds before the black horse and its rider hadreached the house.
"I will give them one more chance, just one more," thought the handsomeBoer, or rather half-breed--for it will be remembered that his motherwas English--"and if they won't take it, then let their fate be upontheir own heads. To-morrow I go to the _bymakaar_ at Paarde Kraal totake counsel with Paul Kruger and Pretorius, and the other 'fathersof the land,' as they call themselves. If I throw in my weight againstrebellion there will be no rebellion; if I urge it there will be, andif _Oom_ Silas will not give me Bessie, and Bessie will not marry me, Iwill urge it even if it plunge the whole country in war from the Cape toWaterberg. Patriotism! Independence! Taxes!--that is what they will crytill they begin to believe it themselves. Bah! those are not the thingsthat I would go to war for; but ambition and revenge, ah! that isanother matter. I would kill them all if they stood in my way, allexcept Bessie. If war breaks out, who will hold up a hand to help the'_verdomde Englesmann_'? They would all be afraid. And it is not myfault. Can I help if it I love that woman? Can I help it if my blooddries up with longing for her, and if I lie awake hour by hour ofnights, ay, and weep--I, Frank Muller, who saw the murdered bodies of myfather and my mother and shed no tear--because she hates me and will notlook favourably upon me?
"Oh, woman! woman! They talk of ambition and of avarice and ofself-preservation as the keys of character and action, but what force isthere to move us like a woman? A little thing, a weak fragile thing--atoy from which the rain will wash the paint and of which the rust willstop the working, and yet a thing that can shake the world and pour outblood like water, and bring down sorrow like the rain. So! I stand bythe boulder. A touch and it will go crashing down the mountain-sideso that the world hears it. Shall I send it? It is all one to me. LetBessie and _Oom_ Silas judge. I would slaughter every Englishman inthe Transvaal to gain Bessie--ay! and every Boer too, and throw all thenatives in;" and he laughed aloud, and struck the great black horse,making it plunge and caper gallantly.
"And then," he went on, giving his ambition wing, "when I have wonBessie, and we have kicked all these Englishmen out of the land, in avery few years I shall rule this country, and what next? Why, then Iwill stir up the Dutch feeling in Natal and in the old Colony, and wewill push the Englishmen back into the sea, make a clean sweep of thenatives, only keeping enough for servants, and have a united SouthAfrica, like that poor silly man Burgers used to prate of, but did notknow how to bring about. A united Dutch South Africa, and Frank Mullerto rule it! Well, such things have been, and may be again. Give me fortyyears of life and strength, and we shall see----"
Just then he reached the verandah of the house, and, dismissing hissecret ambitions from his mind, Frank Muller dismounted and entered. Inthe sitting-room he found Silas Croft reading a newspaper.
"Good-day, _Oom_ Silas," he said, extending his hand.
"Good-day, _Meinheer_ Frank Muller," replied the old man very coldly,for John had told him of the incident at the shooting-party which sonearly ended fatally, and though he made no remark he had formed his ownconclusions.
"What are you reading about in the _Volkstem_, _Oom_ Silas--about theBezuidenhout affair?"
"No; what was that?"
"It was that the _volk_ are rising against you English, that is all. Thesheriff seized Bezuidenhout's waggon in execution of taxes, and put itup to sale at Potchefstroom. But the _volk_ kicked the auctioneer offthe waggon and hunted him round the town; and now Governor Lanyon issending Raaf down with power to swear in special constables and enforcethe law at Potchefstroom. He might as well try to stop a river bythrowing stones. Let me see, the big meeting at Paarde Kraal was to havebeen on the fifteenth of December, now it is to be on the eighth, andthen we shall know if it will be peace or war."
"Peace or war?" answered the old man testily. "That has been the cry foryears. How many big meetings have there been since Shepstone annexedthe country? Six, I think. And what has come of it all? Just nothing buttalk. And what can come of it? Suppose the Boers did fight, what wouldthe end of it be? They would be beaten, and a lot of people would bekilled, and that would be the end of it. You don't suppose that Englandwould give in to a handful of Boers, do you? What did General Wolseleysay the other day at the dinner in Potchefstroom? Why, that the countrywould never be given up, because no Government, Conservative, Liberal,or Radical, would dare to do it. And now this new Gladstone Governmenthas telegraphed the same thing, so what is the use of all the talk andchildishness? Tell me that, Frank Muller."
Muller laughed as he answered, "You are all very simple people, youEnglish. Don't you know that a government is like a woman who cries'No, no, no,' and kisses you all the time? If there is noise enough yourBritish Government will eat its words and give Wolseley, and Shepstone,and Bartle Frere, and Lanyon, and all of them the lie. This is a biggerbusiness than you think for, _Oom_ Silas. Of course all these meetingsand talk are got up. The people are
angry because of the English way ofdealing with the natives, and because they have to pay taxes; andthey think, now that you British have paid their debts and smashed upSikukuni and Cetewayo, that they would like to have the land back. Theywere glad enough for you to take it at first; now it is another matter.But still that is not much. If they were left to themselves nothingwould come of it except talk, for many of them are very glad that theland should be English. But the men who pull the strings are down inthe Cape. They want to drive every Englishman out of South Africa. WhenShepstone annexed the Transvaal he turned the scale against the Dutchelement and broke up the plans they have been laying for years to make abig anti-English republic of the whole country. If the Transvaal remainsBritish there is an end of their hopes, for only the Free State is left,and it is hemmed in. That is why they are so angry, and that is whytheir tools are stirring up the people. They mean to make them fightnow, and I think that they will succeed. If the Boers win the day, theywill declare themselves; if not, you will hear nothing of them, and theBoers will bear the brunt of it. They are very cunning people the Cape'patriots,' but they look well after themselves."
Silas Croft looked troubled, but made no answer, and Frank Muller roseand stared out of the window.