"Hold on, Carew; I'm no candidate for baptism," he adjured his
friend. "Let your things soak for a while, and I'll send Kruger Bobs
over to take them in hand, as soon as he gets through polishing off
The Nig."
Carew straightened his aching back.
"I'll change work with him," he suggested promptly. "A horse is on
your own level; it's degrading to run a Chinese laundry."
Weldon glanced from the wooden bucket to the soaked wrists and
splashed putties of his companion.
"I wish Miss Mellen could see you now, Carew," he remarked unkindly.
With unexpected suddenness, Carew mounted his dignity.
"Unfortunately Miss Mellen is at Johannesburg. Moreover, Miss Mellen
has probably seen men in this mess before now," he answered a little
shortly.
"Doubtless. She may have been in a similar fix, herself. If she
were, I suspect she would put it through and come out on top,"
Weldon replied, with an accent of hearty and respectful admiration
which mollified his companion. "There's my call. I must go to
inspect my day nursery." And, leaving Carew beside his amateur wash-
tub, he went striding away to the farther side of the camp where a
hollow between the hills had been converted into a monstrous kraal.
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