Winburg may have all the elements of greatness; but greatness itself is lacking.Nevertheless, after watching a convoy train tool along over the green-flecked yellow veldt at the rate of six miles a day, after seeing nothing but an occasional isolated farmhouse, the little town appeared like a centre of civilization and excitement to the bored troopers, as they rode up the main street and pitched camp on the western edge of the town.There they sat and idly wondered behind which particular hill was the largest commando.No type of boredom is more acute than that which links itself with periods of inaction in the army.Fifteen minutes would have sufficed to exhaust the resources of Winburg; the troopers remained there for fifteen days.Only Kruger Bobs was fully in his element.His daily grooming of the broncho and his master once over, his time was his own, and he employed it to the best of his ability.Fate had endowed Kruger Bobs with a smile which won instant liking and gained instant fulfilment of his wishes.Just as, months before, he had sat on the river bank at Piquetberg Road, and grinned persuasively at the jam tins, so now he ranged up and down among the farms scattered about Winburg, and grinned himself into possession of manifold eggs and plump fowls and even of soft wheat bread, the final luxury of the biscuit-sated trooper who owned his fealty.
"'Is thy servant a dog?'" Carew had quoted gravely at sight of his first army biscuit.
And Weldon had made answer,--
"Not if he knows it.I have always had full sympathy with my hound who leaves his dog-bread in favor of a bit of oak planking gnawed out from his kennel floor."But Carew was less dainty.Nevertheless, he attacked the biscuit with two flat stones, and mixed the debris with his coffee.
Now, however, thanks to the efforts of Kruger Bobs, they were living thriftily and upon the fat of the land.
"How do you get it all, Kruger Bobs? "Weldon had demanded, one day.
"To my sure knowledge, you've no money, and people hereabouts don't love the British.What is your secret?"Kruger Bobs ducked his bristly head into his ragged hat, and gave an explosive chuckle.Then he raised his head and scratched it demurely.
"Kruger Bobs just gits it, Boss," he explained comprehensively.
He came in, the next night, his pockets stuffed, his mouth wide ajar and the very whites of his eyes full of mystery.Carew and Weldon, sitting together, glanced up as he appeared.Instantly, as he caught sight of Carew, Kruger Bobs veiled his emotion and sought to become properly nonchalant.Nevertheless, it was plain that he had tidings to impart; and at length, over the top of Carew's head, he fell to making graphic, yet totally unintelligible, signs to his master.
"What in thunder do you want, Kruger Bobs?" Weldon demanded.
Kruger Bobs heaved an ostentatious sigh, cast at Weldon one flashing grin, and then asked dolorously,--"Me speak Boss out dere?"
"What under heaven is the matter with you, Kruger Bobs?" Weldon asked, as he departed on the heels of his serving man.
Kruger Bobs slapped his thigh noiselessly, vanished behind his smile, then reappeared to put his lips to Weldon's ear and whisper in raucous triumph--"Syb down dere Winburg.""What? Who is Syb?" Weldon queried blankly.
Kruger Bobs straightened, in dignified resentment at his master's ignorance.
"Syb be my vrouw soon."
"Oh, I see.No wonder you look elated, you rascal.So you have been courting?"The grin reappeared."Ya, Boss.More, too.""What now?" "Kruger Bobs got despatch from Syb for Boss."Weldon's face expressed his amusement.
"Much obliged to the lady.Give her mine." "Syb say--" Again the thick black lips approached Weldon's ear, and the bristly head nodded energetically in time to the moving lips.
"Who?" Weldon said incredulously."Miss Mellen?""Ya, Boss."
"How does Syb--Is that what you call her?--how does she know? Oh, Iremember now.It is the girl who served at Miss Mellen's home,"Weldon said, as light began to dawn.
"Ya, Boss; dat Syb."
"And she is here with Miss Mellen?"
Kruger Bobs nodded.
"What are they doing?"
"Dey is nurses sick mens." "How long have they been here?""One, tree, five day."
"Five days," Weldon translated to himself."It was an odd chance, your running on her so soon.Did she know we were here?""She tink ya," Kruger Bobs replied."Syb no tell." "But why not?"The matter-of-course question appeared to fill Kruger Bobs with amazement.
"Boss make night march," he answered."She may not care to have me.
Still, we'll ride out there with you in the morning.""Boss?"
"Mr.Carew and myself."
Kruger Bobs looked hurt.In hot excitement, the black fingers closed on a fold of the brown sleeve.
"Kruger Bobs go, too?"
"What makes you want to go?"
"Syb dere, Boss."
"I don't see what difference that makes," Weldon said reflectively.
Once more Kruger Bobs turned coy.
"Boss go see his vrouw; me go see Syb," he explained briefly.
Weldon's laugh astonished him; still more Weldon's answer.
"Oh, Kruger Bobs, you love-struck calf! Because you're in love with Syb, do you think it follows that I am in love with Miss Mellen?"Kruger Bobs plotted geometrical problems with his left toe.
"Syb say," he replied at length.Then he raised his eyes from his problem."Boss vrouw good," he ventured persuasively.
Weldon laughed again.
"So we all think.Mr.Carew knows her much better than I do, though, and Miss Mellen would be hurt, if he didn't go out to see her."But Kruger Bobs stood his ground."Boss Weldon go see his vrouw;Kruger Bobs go see his vrouw; Boss Carew no vrouw."However, in spite of the advice of Kruger Bobs, Carew was at Weldon's side, as they rode through Winburg, the next morning.
