ad, Thomaso was
far too great a coward to translate it into action. Still, suspecting
something, I also gave Hans instructions to keep a sharp eye on Inez
and generally to watch the place, and if he saw anything suspicious, to
communicate with us at once.
"Yes, Baas," said Hans, "I will look after 'Sad-Eyes'"--for so with
their usual quickness of observation our Zulus had named Inez--"as
though she were my grandmother, though what there is to fear for her, I
do not know. But, Baas, I would much rather come and look after you, as
your reverend father, the Predikant, told me to do always, which is my
duty, not girl-herding, Baas. Also my foot is now quite well and--I want
to shoot sea-cows, and----" Here he paused.
"And what, Hans?"
"And Goroko said that there was going to be much fighting and if there
should be fighting and you should come to harm because I was not there
to protect you, what would your reverend father think of me then?"
All of which meant two things: that Hans never liked being separated
from me if he could help it, and that he much preferred a shooting trip
to stopping alone in this strange place with nothing to do except eat
and sleep. So I concluded, though indeed I did not get quite to the
bottom of the business. In reality Hans was putting up a most gallant
struggle against temptation.
As I found out afterwards, Captain Robertson had been giving him strong
drink on the sly, moved thereto by sympathy with a fellow toper. Also he
had shown him where, if he wanted it, he could get more, and Hans always
wanted gin very badly indeed. To leave it within his reach was like
leaving a handful of diamonds lying about in the room of a thief. This
he knew, but was ashamed to tell me the truth, and thence came much
trouble.
"You will stop here, Hans, look after the young lady and nurse your
foot," I said sternly, whereon he collapsed with a sigh and asked for
some tobacco.
Meanwhile Captain Robertson, who I think had been taking a stirrup cup
to cheer him on the road, was making his farewells down in what was
known as "the village," for I saw him there kissing a collection of
half-breed children, and giving Thomaso instructions to look after them
and their mothers. Returning at length, he called to Inez, who remained
upon the veranda, for she always seemed to shrink from her father after
his visits to the village, to "keep a stiff upper lip" and not feel
lonely, and commanded the cavalcade to sta
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