Finished | Page 8

I became
acquainted with Anscombe. For you have nothing to do with this story
which is about the destruction of the Zulus, the accomplishment of the
vengeance of Zikali the wizard at the kraal named Finished, and
incidentally, the love affairs of two people in which that old wizard
took a hand, as I did to my sorrow.
It happened that Mr. Anscombe had ridden on ahead of his wagons
which could not arrive at Pretoria for a day or two, and as he found it
impossible to get accommodation at the European or elsewhere, I
offered to let him sleep in mine, or rather alongside in a tent I had. He
accepted and soon we became very good friends. Before the day was as
out I discovered that he had served in a crack cavalry regiment, but
resigned his commission some years before. I asked him why.
"Well," he said, "I came into a good lot of money on my mother's death
and could not see a prospect of any active service. While the regiment
was abroad I liked the life well enough, but at home it bored me. Too
much society for my taste, and that sort of thing. Also I wanted to
travel; nothing else really amuses me."
"You will soon get tired of it," I answered, "and as you are well off,
marry some fine lady and settle down at home."
"Don't think so. I doubt if I should ever be happily married, I want too
much. One doesn't pick up an earthly angel with a cast-iron constitution

who adores you, which are the bare necessities of marriage, under
every bush." Here I laughed. "Also," he added, the laughter going out
of his eyes, "I have had enough of fine ladies and their ways."
"Marriage is better than scrapes," I remarked sententiously.
"Quite so, but one might get them both together. No, I shall never
marry, although I suppose I ought as my brothers have no children."
"Won't you, my friend," thought I to myself, "when the skin grows
again on your burnt fingers."
For I was sure they had been burnt, perhaps more than once. How, I
never learned, for which I am rather sorry for it interests me to study
burnt fingers, if they do not happen to be my own. Then we changed
the subject.
Anscombe's wagons were delayed for a day or two by a broken axle or
a bog hole, I forget which. So, as I had nothing particular to do until the
Natal post-cart left, we spent the time in wandering about Pretoria,
which did not take us long as it was but a little dorp in those days, and
chatting with all and sundry. Also we went up to Government House as
it was now called, and left cards, or rather wrote our names in a book
for we had no cards, being told by one of the Staff whom we met that
we should do so. An hour later a note arrived asking us both to dinner
that night and telling us very nicely not to mind if we had no dress
things. Of course we had to go, Anscombe rigged up in my second best
clothes that did not fit him in the least, as he was a much taller man
than I am, and a black satin bow that he had bought at Becket's Store
together with a pair of shiny pumps.
I actually met you, my friend, for the first time that evening, and in
trouble too, though you may have forgotten the incident. We had made
a mistake about the time of dinner, and arriving half an hour too soon,
were shown into a long room that opened on to the verandah. You were
working there, being I believe a private secretary at the time, copying
some despatch; I think you said that which gave an account of the
Annexation. The room was lit by a paraffin lamp behind you, for it was
quite dark and the window was open, or at any rate unshuttered. The
gentleman who showed us in, seeing that you were very busy, took us
to the far end of the room, where we stood talking in the shadow. Just
then a door opened opposite to that which led to the verandah, and
through it came His Excellency the Administrator, Sir Theophilus

Shepstone, a stout man of medium height with a very clever, thoughtful
face, as I have always thought, one of the greatest of African statesmen.
He did not see us, but he caught sight of you and said testily--
"Are you mad?" To which you answered with a laugh--
"I hope not more than usual, Sir, but why?"
"Have I not told you always to let down the blinds after