As it toiled slowly towards them through the flat white glare of the
African morning a commotion started at its rear and spread quickly
along the line, the dogs clamoured and the servants shouted
encouragement to the rider who raced past them towards the head of the
caravan. He lay forward in the saddle, driving the pony with elbows
and heels, hat hanging from the leather thong about his neck and black
hair ruffled with the speed of his run.
'That cub roars louder than the lion that sired him,' grunted Mbejane,
but there was a fondness in his expression as he watched the rider
reach the leading wagon and drag the pony from full run down on to his
haunches.
'Also he spoils the mouth of every horse he rides.' Sean's voice was
as harsh as Mbejane's, but there was the same fond expression in his
eyes as he watched his son cut loose the brown body of a springbok from
the pommel of his saddle and let it drop into the road beside the
wagon. Two of the wagon drivers hurried to retrieve it, and Dirk
Courtney kicked his pony and galloped down to where Sean and Mbejane
waited beside the road.
'Only one?' Sean asked as Dirk checked the pony and circled back to
fall in beside him.
'Oh, no. I got three-three with three shots. The gun boys are
bringing the others. ' Offhanded, taking as natural that at nine years
of age he should be providing meat for the whole company, Dirk slouched
down comfortably in the saddle, holding the reins in one hand and the
other resting negligently on his hip in faithful imitation of his
father.
Scowling a little to cover the strength of his pride and his love, Sean
examined him surreptitiously. The beauty of this boy's face was almost
indecent, the innocence of the eyes and faultless skin should have
belonged to a girl. The sun struck ruby sparks from the mass of dark
curls, his eyes spaced wide apart were framed with long black lashes
and over scored by the delicate lines of the brow. His eyes were
emerald and his skin was gold and there were rubies in his hair-a face
fashioned by a jewel smith Then Sean looked at the mouth and
experienced a twinge of uneasiness. The mouth was too big, the lips
too wide and soft. The shape of it was wrong-as though it were about
to sulk or whine.
'We are making a full day's trek today, Dirk. No out span until we
reach Pretoria. Ride back and tell the drivers.
'Send MbeJane. He's doing nothing. ' 'I told you to go. ' 'Hell,
Dad! I've done enough today. ' 'Go, damn you!' Sean roared with
unnecessary violence.
'I've only just come back, it's not fair that-' Dirk started, but Sean
did not let him finish.
'Every time I ask you to do something I get a mouthful of argument. Now
do what I tell you. ' They held each other's eyes; Sean glaring and
Dirk resentful, sulky. Sean recognized that expression with dismay.
This was going to be another of those tests of will that were becoming
more frequent between them.
Would this end as most of the others had? Must he admit defeat and use
