In the Whirl of the Rising. Mitford Bertram

laughed unpleasantly.

      “You left your things at Pagadi,” went on Lamont. “My advice is get back to Fagadi, pick up your traps – thence, to England.”

      The other laughed again, still more unpleasantly.

      “Meaning that you want me out of the country,” he said.

      It was Lamont’s turn to stare.

      “I’m very dense,” he said, “but for the life of me I can’t see what the devil interest your being in the country or out of it can have for me.”

      “We were at Courtland together,” rejoined Ancram meaningly.

      “A remarkable coincidence no doubt. Still – it doesn’t explain anything.”

      “I thought perhaps you might find it awkward – er – anyone being here who was – er – there at that time.”

      “Then like many another you have proved ‘thought’ a desperately unreliable prompter. Candidly, my dear fellow, since you put it that way, I don’t care a twopenny damn whether you are in this country or in any other. Now?”

      Lamont spoke quickly and was fast losing his temper. He pulled himself up with a sort of gulping effort. Ancram, noting this, could hardly suppress the sneer which rose to his face, for he read it entirely wrong.

      “That fetched him,” he was thinking to himself. “He’s funking now. He’s probably got another girl out here, and he’s afraid I’ll blab about the white feather business. All right, my good friend Lamont. I’ve got you under my thumb, as I intended, and you’ll have to put me in the way of something good – or – that little story will come in handy. It’ll bear some touching up, too.”

      “I was speaking in your own interest, Ancram,” went on Lamont. “Anyone can see with half an eye that you’re not in the least cut out for life in this country, and you’d only be throwing away your time and money.”

      “Wish I’d got some to throw. I thought perhaps I might stop and do a little farming with you.”

      “But farming needs some capital. You can’t do it on nothing. It’s a losing game even then, especially now that rinderpest is clearing us all out. Don’t you know any people in Buluwayo who could put you into the way of getting some job under Government, or in the mining department or something?”

      “Not a soul. Wish I did. But, I say, Lamont, why are you so jolly certain I’m no good for this country? I haven’t had a show yet.”

      “Oh, I can see. For one thing, if you start pounding the niggers about, like you did Zingela yesterday, you’ll get an assegai through you.”

      It came to him as an inspiration, in pursuance of their plan of the previous day. And Ancram was green.

      “No! Are they such revengeful devils as all that?”

      “Well, they don’t like being bashed, any more than other people. And – a savage is always a savage.”

      “By Jove! What d’you think, Lamont? Supposing I gave this chap something? Would that make it all right? Eh?”

      “Then he’d think you were afraid of him.”

      And to Lamont, who knew that the gift of a piece of tobacco and a sixpence would cause honest Zingela positively to beam upon his assailant of yesterday, the situation was too funny. But he wanted to get rid of the other, and the opportunity seemed too good to be lost. The scare had begun.

      “You have got a jolly place here, Lamont, and you don’t seem overworked either, by Jove!” went on Ancram, with more than a dash of envy in his tone, as he gazed forth over the sunlit landscape, dotted with patches of bush, stretching away to the dark line of forest beyond, for the two men were seated in front of the house, beneath the extension of the roof which formed a rough verandah.

      “Yes. You were talking of Courtland – well, I’m nearly as big a landowner here as the old Squire. Funny, isn’t it? As for being overworked, that comes by fits and starts. Just now there’s nothing much to do but shoot and bury your infected cattle, and watch the remainder die of drought.”

      “Phew! I can’t think how you fellows can smoke such stuff as that,” said Ancram disgustedly, as the other started a fresh pipe of Magaliesburg. “The very whiff of it is enough to make one sick.”

      “Sorry; you must get used to it though, if you’re going to stop in the country,” rejoined Lamont, unconcernedly blowing out great clouds. “Have another drink? The whiff of that doesn’t make you sick, eh?”

      “You’re right there, old chap,” laughed Ancram. “This is a deuced thirsty country of yours, Lamont, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

      “Oh dear, no! Never mind me. It’s all that, even when there isn’t a drought on.”

      “Now I could understand a fellow like Peters smoking that stuff,” said Ancram, going back to the question of the tobacco. “But you, who’ve had an opportunity of knowing better – that’s a thing I can hardly take in. By the way, Lamont, while on the subject of Peters, I think he’s too beastly familiar and patronising altogether.”

      “Patronising – ’m – yes.”

      If Ancram perceived the crispness of the tone, the snap in his host’s eyes, he, thinking the latter was afraid of him, enjoyed being provocative all the more.

      “Yes. For instance, I think it infernal cheek a fellow of that sort calling us by our names – without any mister or anything. And the chummy way in which he’s always talking to me. It’s a little too thick. A common chap like that – who murders the Queen’s English. No; I’m getting damn tired of Peters.”

      “Quite sure Peters isn’t getting damn tired of you?”

      “Eh? Oh come, I say, Lamont! You’re always getting at a fellow, you know.”

      Lamont was inwardly raging. He had exaggerated ideas of the obligations of hospitality, and this fellow was his guest – an uninvited one certainly, but still his guest. And he – could he control himself much longer?

      “I told you you weren’t in the least cut out for life in this country, Ancram,” he said at last, striving to speak evenly. “For instance, according to its customs even the blasphemy of Peters daring to call you by your name doesn’t justify you in abusing a man who has saved your life; for if it hadn’t been for him you’d be a well-gnawed skeleton in the mopani belt down the Pagadi road this very moment. Wait a bit,” – as the other was about to interrupt. “It may surprise you to hear it – they call this a land of surprises – but there’s no man alive for whom I have a greater regard than I have for Peters. He’s my friend – my friend, you understand – and if you’re so tired of him I can only think of one remedy. I can lend you a horse and a boy to show you the way. There’s a hotel at Gandela. The accommodation there is indifferent, but at any rate you won’t be tired by Peters.”

      It was out at last. Ancram had gone too far. Would he take him at his word? thought Lamont, hoping in the affirmative. But before the other could reply one way or the other there was a trampling of hoofs, and a man on horseback came round the corner of the house.

      “Hallo, Driffield! Where have you dropped from?” cried Lamont, greeting the new-comer cordially.

      “Home. I’m off on a small patrol. Thought, as it was near dinner-time, I’d sponge on you, Lamont. Where’s Peters?”

      “Up at his camp. He never comes down till evening. Er – Ancram. This is Driffield, our Native Commissioner. What he don’t know about the guileless savage isn’t worth knowing.”

      “Glad to meet you,” said that official as they shook hands. “You needn’t take in everything Lamont says, all the same,” he laughed. “I say, Lamont, it’s a pity Peters isn’t here. I’m always missing the old chap.”

      “I’ll send up for him, and he’ll be here in half an hour or so. I’ll see to your horse and start Zingela off at once. But – first of all have a drink. We won’t get