remembered the Burley deal and looked a little ashamed. Ronny hurried
on. 'And he's borrowed another five thousand from Natal Wattle-Jackson
let it slip out. ' Ronny went on with his calculations. When he
finished he was smiling again. 'Mr. Sean Courtney is stretched about
as thin as he can get without breaking.
Just one slip, one little slip and-Pow! ' He made a chopping motion
with his open hand. 'We can wait!
He selected a cigar from the leather box which had replaced the silver
one and lit it before he spoke again. 'By the way did you know he
hasn't been discharged from the army yet? The way the war is going
they certainly need good fighting men.
That leg of his looks all right to me. Perhaps a word in the right
ear-a little pressure somewhere.' Ronny was positively grinning now.
His cigar tasted delicious.
The doctors at Greys Hospital had given Sean his final examination a
week before Christmas. They had judged his disability as roughly one
per cent, a slight limp when he was physically fired. This
disqualified him from war wound pension and had made him available for
immediate return to duty.
A week after New Year's Day of 1901 the first letter from the army
arrived. He was to report immediately to the Officer Commanding the
Natal Mounted Rifles-the regiment which had ' now swallowed up the old
Natal Corps of Guides.
The war in South Africa had entered a new phase. Throughout the
Transvaal and Orange Free State the Boers had begun a campaign of
guerilla warfare alarming in its magnitude. The war was far from over
and Sean's presence was urgently required to swell the army of a
quarter of a million British troops already in the field.
He had written begging for an extension of his leave, and had received
in reply a threat to treat him as a deserter if he wasn't in
Johannesburg by February first.
The last two weeks had been filled with frantic activity. He had
managed to finish the planting of ten thousand acres of wattle begun
the previous May. He had arranged a further large loan from Natal
Wattle to pay for the tending of his trees. The repairs and renovation
of the Homestead on Lion Kop were completed and Ada had moved from the
cottage in Protea Street to act as caretaker and manager of the estate
during his absence Now, as he rode alone over his land in a gesture of
farewell, he had an opportimity to think of other things. The main one
of these was his daughter. His first and only daughter. She was two
months old now. Her name was Storm and he had never seen her. Saul
Friedman had written a long, joyous letter from the front where Sean
was soon to join him. Sean had sent hearty congratulations and then
tried once again to contact Ruth. He had written her without result
and, finally, had abandoned his work on Lion Kop and gone up to
Pietermaritzburg. Four days he waited, calling morning and afternoon
at the Goldberg mansion-and each time Ruth was either out or
indisposed. He had left a bitter little note for her and gone home.
Deep in gloom he rode through his plantations. Great blocks of young
trees, row upon endless row, covered the hills of Lion Kop. The older
