Jack, you must do just as you like while you are here,” said Mr Hunter a few days after they had reached this modern city in which the Uitlander population of the Transvaal had, for the most part, taken up its residence. “Of course you will want to see Pretoria, and get a peep at his honour, dear old Kruger, whom we Englishmen love so much. Then, perhaps, you would like to accompany me to Kimberley. I go there about twice a month, and though it is a dusty, uninteresting sort of place at first sight, yet I think I can promise to open your eyes when I show you the mines. You have heard of them, of course, and are aware that they are valued at millions of pounds. On our way there, or on our return, we could take a peep at Bloemfontein, the capital of the Orange Free State, where President Steyn has his residence. It will be all new to you, and, I dare say, sufficiently interesting.”
“Thank you very much, Mr Hunter!” Jack replied. “I am already awfully interested, and should certainly like to see all there is in the country. I wonder whether you would object to my helping sometimes in the store. I am quite strong enough for that now, and I should very much like to learn how you manage matters, and particularly how your books are kept. I am sorry to say I am a terribly poor hand at accounts. Mine never came out right at the end of the month in London.”
“Mind! Of course not, Jack! I am glad to think you would care to do it. Place yourself in Wilfred’s hands. He knows all about it, and will show you how the business is carried on. Who knows? One of these days you may find shopkeeping more congenial than army life. Out here there are lots of young fellows who come from the best of houses in the old country, and yet are not ashamed to pull off their coats and put their shoulders to the wheel. Why, one man of my acquaintance, who is in a very prosperous way of business just now, in spite of the exorbitant taxation with which we have to put up, owns to a title in England, and when he was there would have no more thought of turning out in the streets of London without the time-honoured tail-coat and topper than he would have thought of flying. And here he is now, not too proud to make his living by honest means, simply because he happened to be born a lord. And there are lots more like him too. Dear me, what a shock their parents would have if they could see them now, working behind their counters with sleeves rolled up, and selling groceries or ironware as if they had been at it all their lives!”
On the following day Jack took the train for Pretoria, and had the good fortune to catch a glimpse of Paul Kruger, President of the Transvaal Republic, as he drove by in his carriage.
“Father says he’s the deepest and cleverest schemer that ever was!” exclaimed Wilfred, nodding after the carriage, “and from all one hears there can be little doubt about it. They say, too, that he is a religious man, and is something like the Puritans of old. Whatever he is, however, he is certainly one of our bitterest enemies. He simply loathes the sight of an Englishman, and won’t speak our language. He forgets all we have done for him, for I can tell you, there would have been no Kruger and no Boers in the Transvaal if it hadn’t been for our country.”
“He’s a funny-looking fellow at any rate,” answered Jack; “and why in the name of all that’s rummy he should want to wear a topper in this outlandish place is more than I can guess. If I met him at home I should take him for some dissenting minister, a trifle hard-up and out-at-elbow.”
“Hard-up!” exclaimed Wilfred in disgust. “Don’t make that mistake, Jack. Paul Kruger is no pauper. He is certainly one of the wealthiest of the Boers.”
And this was exactly the case. President Kruger was a man who had for many years not only managed the affairs of this particular country, but had also contrived to look well after his own. It was only a glimpse that Jack caught of him, but it was quite sufficient to impress the features on his mind.
Paul Kruger was a heavily-built man, arrayed in black from head to foot, which shone as all threadbare and worn-out clothing does. On his head was a fairly presentable top hat, and in his fat, ungainly hands he held a pair of black kid gloves.
But his face was the part which riveted one’s attention.
In anyone else’s case but the president’s it would have passed without comment, especially amongst a gathering of typical Boers. But, holding the position he did, one looked a second time, and noticed the wrinkled, jowly cheeks, fringed with a belt of straggly hair; the heavy, sleepy-looking eyes, overhung by bushy brows, and the general appearance of obtuseness.
And yet it was this man who, for the sake of a boundless ambition, was destined to defy the might of England, ay, and stagger it with his blows; and he it was, this sheepish-looking Boer, who for years and years had been secretly dreaming and planning – planning to oust the Britishers from their fair colonies, and claim for himself the proud position and title of President – perhaps King – of the United States of Africa.
Shortly after his return from Pretoria, Jack settled down to life in Johannesburg, and soon found himself quite one of the Uitlanders. His leg was now practically strong again, though he had not yet got rid of the limp. Still, for all that, he was able to get about, and even enjoy a game of cricket.
Soon, too, he became accustomed to life in the store conducted by Mr Hunter, and made it a regular custom to help wherever he could during the morning hours. It was really a large shop, with several departments, and with a big storehouse behind. The main entrance was quite an imposing one, and a common place for friends to meet, while just inside was a large office in which the books were kept.
Jack was often here, and did not take long to master the intricacies of book-keeping, so much so that he soon became of real help to Mr Hunter.
In the afternoon he played cricket or drove out with Wilfred, and in the evening he and his friend frequently sauntered into the town, and played billiards at a large restaurant which was a popular rendezvous. Here he met numbers of Englishmen, and in addition several Boers, some of whom he learnt to like. But the younger men were for the most part odious, and gave themselves such airs that the Uitlanders held aloof from them.
Now it happened that Jack and Wilfred frequently played with two other young fellows, one of whom was a delicate lad about Jack’s age, who had come to Africa for the sake of his health. His name was Mathews, and Jack took a great fancy to him. He was quiet and dignified, seldom spoke unless asked a question, and was as inoffensive and harmless a being as anyone could have wished to meet.
But this very mildness was to be the cause of trouble, as Jack was soon to learn.
Amongst the young Boers who visited the restaurant was one tall young man of about twenty-five, who made himself more objectionable than any of the others. He was bumptious to a degree, and openly expressed his hatred of all Englishmen. Even in the billiard saloon his sneers were loudly uttered, so that Jack itched to thrash him on several occasions. But Wilfred dissuaded him.
“Be careful, Jack,” he exclaimed earnestly, one evening, when the Boer had been more than usually hostile. “Don’t take any notice of the brute, or it will lead you into trouble. I know him well, and so does Father, and I can tell you that Piet Maartens, as he calls himself, is a scoundrel, and a most dangerous man to have anything to do with. He is thickly in with the Kruger gang, and if all is true that has been said of him, he has a reputation that would hang a man in England. I have no wish to blacken his character. I merely tell the truth when I say that he has treated more than one of the Kaffirs on his father’s farm so brutally as to cause death. Keep clear of him, Jack!”
“I’ll do my best, Wilfred,” Jack answered slowly, “but he’d better look out. I’m not going to stand quietly by much longer and listen to his sneers. One would think we Englishmen were dirt beneath his feet. Up to the present his remarks have been general, but I’ll tell you this, if he shouts any of his names at me, I’ll show him that an Englishman is as good as, and perhaps better than, a Boer. I’ve got a game leg, but that won’t prevent me from tackling him if it’s necessary.”
