Chapter 2. Why They Went Away

________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER TWO. WHY THEY WENT AWAY

It was about two years before this that Mr Edward Rogers, a gentleman holding a post of importance in the City of London, had purchased some land and come out to dwell in Natal. For physician after physician had been consulted, seaside and health resort visited, but as the time glided on the verdict of the doctors became more and more apparent as a true saying, that unless Mrs Rogers was taken to a warmer climate her days would be few.

Even if she were removed the doctors said that she could not recover; but still her days might be prolonged. What was more, they strongly advised such a course in favour of young Richard, who was weak and delicate to a degree.

"Then you really consider it necessary?" said Mr Rogers to the great physician who had been called in.

"I do indeed. As I have said, it will prolong your wife's days, and most probably it will turn that delicate, sickly boy into a strong man."

On being asked further what country he would recommend, he promptly replied,--

"South Africa."

"Natal is the place," he continued. "There you have the Drakensberg, and you can choose your own elevation, so as to get a pure, temperate climate, free from the cold of the mountains and the heat of the plains."

Mr Rogers was a man of prompt action, for the health of those dear to him was his first consideration. The consequence was that after rapidly making his arrangements, and providing the necessaries for his new home, he took passage to Durban, arrived there in safety with his wife, two sons, and Dennis; then made his way to Maritzburg; and soon after he had purchased an extensive tract of land, and a pleasantly situated home, with garden in full perfection, the owner of which, having made money in the colony, wished to retire to England.

Here for a time Mrs Rogers had seemed better, and undoubtedly her life was considerably prolonged. Gardening, farming, and a little hunting formed the occupations of the father and sons, and for a time all was happiness in the sunny far-off home. Then the much-dreaded day came, and they were left to mourn for a tender wife and mother, whose loss was irreparable.

Richard, who partook greatly of his mother's nature, was, like his father, completely prostrated by the terrible loss; and though time somewhat assuaged his grief, he seemed to have gone back in his health, and lost the way he had made up since he left England, and he had become so weak and delicate that Mr Rogers had consulted the doctor, who from time to time visited their far-off home.

"Medicine is of no use, my dear sir," he said frankly. "I can do him no good. I suppose he sits indoors a good deal and mopes?"

"Exactly."

"Then look here, my dear sir, give him a thorough change. You are not tied to your farming in any way?"

"Not in the least."

"Then fit up a waggon, take your horses, and have a few months' campaign in the wilds yonder. You want a change as badly as the boy, and you will both come back, I'll venture to say, doubled in strength. Why, the ivory and skins you'll collect will pay your expenses. I wish I had the chance to go."

It was settled then, and the waggon was being fitted up with ammunition and stores; horses, guaranteed to be well-salted, had been purchased for Mr Rogers and his boys. The two young Zulus who had been hanging about the place for months, making little trips with Dick and Jack, were to go; and in addition a couple of trustworthy blacks, experienced as waggon-driver and foreloper, had been engaged; so that in a very few days they would say good-bye to civilisation for months, and go seek for health in the far-off wilds.

The boys were delighted, for Mr Rogers proposed that they should aim for the Zambesi River, and seek some of the seldom-traversed lands, where game abounded, and where the wonders of nature would be opened to them as from an unsealed book.

If Dick and Jack were delighted, the two Zulu boys were half mad with joy. As soon as they knew that they were to be of the party they seemed to have become frantic, going through the actions of hunting and spearing wild beasts--knocking down birds with their kiris, which they threw with unerring aim--pantomimically fighting lions, one of them roaring and imitating the fierce creature's "oomph, oomph," in a way that sounded terribly real, while the other threatened him with his assegai.

Then they were always showing their cleverness as hunters by stalking people--crawling up to them through the long grass, taking advantage of every irregularity of the ground or shrub to get nearer, and grinning with delight on seeing the surprise and fear of the person stalked.

For it was only during the past year that they had been so much amongst the settlers in Natal. Their early days had been spent with their tribe in the north, their father being a redoubtable chief; but he had given great offence to the king, and had been compelled to fly for his life, finding refuge amongst the English, with his boys.

Mention has been made of well-salted horses, which to a sailor would immediately suggest commissariat beef in pickle in good-sized tubs; but pray don't imagine that the satisfactory condiment, salt, has anything to do with a salted horse in South Africa. A salted horse is one that is seasoned to the climate by having passed through the deadly horse sickness, a complaint so bad and peculiar to the land that very few of the horses seized with it recover. When one does recover he is called a salted--that is, seasoned--horse, and his value is quadrupled.

Mr Rogers had spared no expense in getting together good cattle. His team of little Zulu oxen were the perfection of health and strength, and far more docile than is generally the case with these animals; though even these, in spite of their good behaviour, were exceedingly fond of tickling each other's ribs with their long horns, and saving the driver trouble, for the pair nearest the waggon would stir up the pair in front of them, and as these could only retaliate on their aggressors with their tails, they took their revenge on the pair in front; these again punished the pair in front; and so on, and on, to the leading oxen, the result of the many applications being a great increase of speed.

Then the horses were excellent. Mr Rogers had three for his own riding; a big bay, a dark grey, and a soft mouse-coloured chestnut, more famous for speed than beauty, and with a nasty habit of turning round and smiling, as if he meant to bite, when he was mounted.

Dick was clever at names, and he immediately suggested "Smiler" as an appropriate name for the chestnut. The dark grey he called "Toothpick," because of his habit of rubbing his teeth on the sharp points of the fence; while he called the big bony bay the "Nipper," from his being so fond of grazing on, and taking nips from, the manes and tails of his companions, when he could get a chance.

Mr Rogers provided three horses for his own riding, but it was with the idea of giving either of his sons an extra mount when necessary, for it was certain that there would be times when the arch-necked swift little cobs purchased for his boys would want a rest.

It was a stroke of good fortune to get such a pair, and the boys were in ecstasies when they were brought up from Maritzburg, for a handsomer pair of little horses it would have been hard to find. They were both of that rich dark reddish roan, and wonderfully alike, the differences being in their legs; one being nearly black in this important part of its person, the other having what most purchasers would call the blemish of four white legs--it being a canon amongst the wise in horseflesh that a dark or black-legged horse has better sinews and lasting powers. In this case, however, the theory was wrong, for white legs was if anything the stronger of the two.

The lads then were delighted, and this became increased when they found the little nags quite ready to make friends, and willing to eat apples, bread, or as much sugar out of their hands as they would give.

"That's right, my boys," said Mr Rogers, who found his sons making friends in this way with the new arrivals; "always feed your horses yourselves, and treat them well. Pet them as much as you like, and win their confidence by your kindness. Never ill-use your horse; one act of ill-treatment and you make him afraid of you, and then perhaps some day, when in an emergency and you want to catch your horse, he may gallop away. Go on like that, and those cobs will follow you about like dogs. But you must each keep to his own horse. Which one would you like, Jack?"

"Oh! the--"

Jack stopped, and glanced at his brother, whose face was slightly flushed.

Dick was weak and delicate, while Jack was the perfection of boyish vigour; and feeling that his brother did not enjoy life as he did himself, he stopped short just as he was going to say White Legs, for there was something in the cob's face that he liked, and the little horse had let him stroke its velvet nose.

"Poor old Dick has taken a fancy to him," he said to himself; "and the other will do just as well for me."

"Let Dick choose first," he said aloud.

"Very well," said Mr Rogers. "Now then, Dick, which is it to be? though you can't be wrong, my boy, for there is not a pin to choose between them, and they are brothers."

"Should you mind if I chose first, Jack?" asked Dick.

"Not a bit," said Jack, stoutly, though his feeling of disappointment was keen, for he felt now that he would dearly love to have the white-legged cob.

You may guess then his delight when Dick declared for the black-legged one.

As soon as he heard the decision Jack had his arm over the white-legged cob's neck and had given it a hug, the horse looking at him with its great soft eyes, and uttering a low snort.

"Up with you then, my boys, and have a canter."

"Without a saddle, father?" said Dick, nervously.

Jack was already up.

"Have it saddled if you like, my boy," said Mr Rogers, kindly.

But Dick flushed, gave a spring from the ground, and was on the little cob's back.

They were both skilled riders, but Dick's illness made him timorous at times. He, however, fought hard to master his weakness; and when Jack cried, "Come on, Dick; let's race to the big tree and back," he stuck his knees into the cob's plump sides and away they went, with the wind rushing by their ears, and the cobs keeping neck and neck, rounding the big tree about a mile away on the plain, and then making the dusty earth rise in clouds as they tore back, and were checked with a touch of the bridle by the home field.

"Why, Dick, my boy, I would not wish to see a better seat on a horse," cried Mr Rogers, patting the cobs in turn. "Jack, you set up your back like a jockey. Sit more upright, my boy."

"All right, father; I'll try," said Jack, throwing himself right forward so as to hug his cob's neck. "But I say, father, isn't he lovely? I felt all the time as if I was a bit of him, or we were all one."

"You looked like it, my boy," said Mr Rogers, smiling in his son's animated face. "I wish Dick had your confidence, and you a little more of his style."

"All right, father, we'll try and exchange a bit a-piece," laughed Jack. "But I can't half believe it, father, that these are to be our own horses."

"You may believe it, then," said his father. "And now get them to the stable."

"Oh, I say, Dick, what beauties!" cried Jack. "What shall you call yours?"

"I don't know yet," replied his brother. "He's very fast. 'Swift' wouldn't be a bad name; and we might call yours 'Sure.'"

"Hum! I don't think much of those names. Hold up!" he continued, examining the hoofs of his brother's nag. "I say, Dick, what fine thick shoes he has got."

"That's a good suggestion," said Dick, laughing, and looking brighter than he had seemed for weeks. "Let's call him 'Shoes,' and his brother with the white legs 'Stockings.'"

"Shoes and Stockings!" cried Jack; "but those are such stupid names. I don't know though but what they'll do."

The question was not discussed, for the lads busied themselves in bedding down their own horses; and for the rest of that, day the stable seemed to be the most important part of the house. _

Read next: Chapter 3. Preparations For The Journey

Read previous: Chapter 1. Coffee And Chicory, But Not For Breakfast

Table of content of Off to the Wilds


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book