CHAPTER III.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7295, 7 January 1902, Page 4

CHAPTER 111.

j The dinner over— -and ib -was -worthy to I be recorded in the annals of Bunker'e Horse ■ by reason of itis Homeric profudon — the conversation became decidedly friendly, all mention of the war being tabooed as if by mutual consent. * The fact that one of Urqinihart's forbears had taken service nnder the States General in the old days of Jacobite persecution placed Captain Donald on quite on intimate ; footing, and me cloud began- to clear from the anxious brow of their hostess. Jan was still absent, bub somehow no one seemed to mmdi very much ; and withont any great pressing on the part of Jimmy Inglis, who 'had discovered! that there was a ramshackle piano in the house, Bet sang. Katrina's accomplishments were of the housewifery sort, so .while Urquhart visited 'the pickets Jimmy gave them "Champagne and Soda," which is not half a bad' song, and " Stable Jacket," which is better, and " Mandalay." - • ■ Outside Urquhart found" a packet on the gravel; it was Jimmy's letter, dropped as he dismounted, a»d in the strong scent of the eucalyptus grove the Scottish captain read it again. , Returning after a long absence, Mrs Van Kloster met him in the porch. "I am afraid, Captain Herr-kart, that something has (happened to my husband," she said, keeping her eyes fixed' upon- Sum inquiringly. "Is your business with, him; nothing that I can help you witihi?" *'I think not," lie said, pulling hard at his moustache, amd crumplgig the letter in his other hand. "I tthink it must. stand over until I can see him." She laid -her hand on Ibis stained, weatherbleacbed skeve, and he pressed it with his own. "You have no cause for anxiety, Mrs Van Kloster,'.' said he; and she thanked him with heir eyes, knowing all the time that there had been trouble brewing. " I say, old chap/ called Jimmy from the room, " come and sing something ; you know you're a musical prodigy, and_ you sneak off and let me in." Urqtrbart handed the letter to Inglis. "You dropped this outside." Then he sat down to the piano. V ■„ He was out of practice, but the man's heart was full, and he gave them of his best, which was of no mean- kind, as his comrades can tell you ; until Bet and Katrina were open-eyed and speechless, and Jimmy forgot to light his never-ending cigarette. The sun was "sinking beyond the giant peaks, and long shadows e crept towards them over the veldt. The men had drawn under the open window, and stood there silently, and most of them were thinking ! " I'll just give you one more,"-said'Urqu-ihart, clearing his muscular throat, "and then we must on-saddle ; it's a very old song, one of the early nigger things, but I like it." And then he sang "My old Kentucky home, good : night," with a pathos and tenderness that will never be forgotten by his strange audience. Jimmy has waved his last, adieu to the three figures under the verandah, of the farm, wiose white walls told a wonderful salmon colour in the African sunset, and they were out on the lonely veldt on the return trek. "Halt!" said Urquhart suddenly. "Ring up round me, boys, I've something to say to you." " — ' They rode into a rough, circle, wondering, and their leader spoke. "You've had a. picnic, men, and a soft time," he said; "It doesn't matter what we went to Van Kloster's for, that's my business. All you've got to know is that we never went there at ?all, couldn't find It; we strayed wide, fell in with Botha? and had to bolt for it— <my stupid thing you like— that's your business. You know me; and 1 when 1 tell you that I've my reasons, and that I "shall be 'broke' if it gets out, I know you'll stand by me lake —like— well, like Bunker's Horse; I can't put it better. March!" And when he had bearded the "chief" in his tent, satisfying him with a brilliant fiction of a Pingoe who had led them pretty well to Pretoria and back, wibich yarn the " chief " swallowed like a lamb, he tumbled up against young Barter, who was waiting to report also, and who couiun't help overhearing the conversation. "Whatj Urquhart," said young Barter, " couldn' t find Van Kloster's 1 Great Scott ! you don't mean to say, old) chap ?'.' j " Look here, old chap," said Urquhart in a low tone, drawing him a pace or two | away into the darkness -with a grip whose | significance there was no mistaking, "I | don't mean to say anything, old ohap ; I aoid I'll be much obliged! to you, old chap, if you'll follow my example, and won't play the gas-bag, old chap, now or ever!" And young Barter held his peace; yet marvelled greatly at this thing, not knowing the story. '