While Saul shouted ribald encouragement, Mbenjane and the groom held
its head. Sean mounted the stallion, then they turned it loose and
Sean fought to quieten it. At last he brought it under a semblance of
control and, crabbing and prancing with arched neck and dainty high,
stepping gait, persuaded it to head off in the general direction of
Johannesburg railway station.
Eccles watched his approach impassively.
'What the hell are you laughing at, Sergeant, Major?'
'I wasn't laughing, sir.
Sean dismounted and, with relief, gave the stallion into the care of
two of his troopers.
'Nice bit of horseflesh, sir.
'What do you think he'll fetch?'
'YOU're going to sell him, sir?' Eccles could not hide his relief.
'You're damn right, I am. But it's a gift, so no sale here in
Johannesburg.
Well, Colonel Jordan at Charlestown is usually in the market for a good
nag. I should be able to get you a price, sir. We'll see what we can
do.
Colonel Jordan purchased not only the stallion but the pistols and the
sabre as well. The secretary of the Charlestown garrison officers'
mess frothed at the mouth with excitement when Eccles drew back the
tarpaulin cover from the scotch cart
When Sean's column rode out into the brown open winter grassland
towards the jagged line of the Drakensberg, the little scotch cart
trotted behind with the Maxims and a dozen ammunition cases making a
full load.
There was cold that first night, and the stars were brilliant, clear
and very far away. In the morning the land lay white and brittle in
the grip of the frost; each blade of grass, each twig and fallen leaf
transformed into a white, jewelled wonder. A thin scum of ice covered
the pool beside which the column had camped.
Mbejanc and Sean squatted together. Mbejane with his monkey, skin
kaross draped over his shoulders and Sean with the sheepskin coat
buttoned to the throat.
'Tonight we will camp below that mountain.' Sean pointed away towards
the west at the blue cone that stood out against the lighter blue of
the dawn sky. 'You will find us there.
, Nkosi, ' Mbejane nodded over his snuffbox.
'These others. ' Sean pointed with his chin at the group of four
natives who awaited quietly with the spears beside the pool.
'Are they men?'
Mbejane shrugged. 'I know little of them. The best of those I spoke
with, perhaps. But they work for gold, and of their hearts I do not
know. ' Before going on, he regarded their clothing; tattered European
cast, offs which were everywhere replacing the traditional tribal
costume. 'They dress without dignity.
But beneath the rags it is possible that they are men.'
'They are all we have so we must use them. Yet I wish we had those
