It was the day before
we went out to be fired at, and he said his name was Kruger Roberts,
and I fed him some empty jam tins."
"A huge black boy with bristly hair?" she interpolated.
"Yes, and a mouth so large that one wonders how his face can hold it
all."
She sat up alertly, resting her folded arms on the edge of the
table.
"This becomes interesting. Kruger Roberts is Syb's avowed and lawful
lover."
Weldon laughed.
"Mine also, as it appears. As I say, I fed him jam tins. There were
four of them, and they were very jammy. Then we became interested in
the Boers, and I forgot Kruger Roberts. When I came back, yesterday
morning, dead tired and my horse all in a mess, I found Kruger
Roberts calmly sitting on my extra blankets, cleaning my shoes with
Paddy's best dishcloth. Paddy was in a wild state of mutiny, and
told me that that chattering baboon had vowed he was Trooper
Weldon's boy. Since then, I have tried in vain to dislodge him; but
it is no use. The Nig is like a piece of satin, and it is all I can
do to keep my compressed-paper buttons from winking defiance at the
Boers on the northern edge of Sahara."
Alice Mellen laughed with the air of one who understood the
situation.
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