This letter I gave to a trader who was trekking to the bay on the following morning, begging him to forward it by the first opportunity.
That duty done, I saw about the horses which I was taking into Zululand, three of them, two for myself and one for Hans, who accompanied me as after-rider. Also the saddlery, saddle-bags, guns and ammunition must be overhauled, all of which took some time.
“You are going to spend a strange _wittebroodsweek_ [white-bread-week, or, in other words, honeymoon], baas,” said Hans, squinting at me with his little eyes, as he brayed away at a buckskin which was to serve as a saddle-cloth. “Now, if _I_ was to be married to-morrow, I should stop with my pretty for a few days, and only ride off somewhere else when I was tired of her, especially if that somewhere else chanced to be Zululand, where they are so fond of killing people.”
“I dare say you would, Hans; and so would I, if I could, you be sure. But, you see, the commandant wants me to interpret, and therefore it is my duty to go with him.”
“Duty; what is duty, baas? Love I understand. It is for love of you that I go with you; also for fear lest you should cause me to be beaten if I refused. Otherwise I would certainly stop here in the camp, where there is plenty to eat and little work to do, as, were I you, I should do also for love of that white missie. But duty—pah! that is a fool-word, which makes bones of a man before his time and leaves his girl to others.”
“Of course, you do not understand, Hans, any more than you coloured people understand what gratitude is. But what do you mean about this trek of ours? Are you afraid?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “A little, perhaps, baas. At least, I should be if I thought about the morrow, which I don’t, since to-day is enough for me, and thinking about what one can’t know makes the head ache. Dingaan is not a nice man, baas; we saw that, didn’t we? He is a hunter who knows how to set a trap. Also he has the Baas Pereira up there to help him. So perhaps you might be more comfortable here kissing Missie Marie. Why do you not say that you have hurt your leg and cannot run? It would not be much trouble to walk about on a crutch for a day or two, and when the commandant was well gone, your leg might heal and you could throw the stick away.”