Off to the Wilds | Page 3

each other and evidently meaning to fight, when for a few moments there was a confused struggle, in which Jack would not have been successful but for his brother's help, he having overrated his strength. But Dick joined in, and in spite of their anger the Zulu boys did not attempt to strike at their young masters, the result being that they allowed their kiris to be wrenched from their hands, and the next minute were seated opposite to each other on the ground.
"They're as strong as horses, Dick," panted Jack. "There! Now, you sirs, shake hands!"
"No!" shouted one.
"No!" shouted the other; and with a make believe of fierceness, Jack gave each what he called a topper on the head with one of the kiris he held.
"Now will you make friends?" cried Jack; and again they shouted, "No!"
"They won't. Let them go," said Dick, languidly; "and it makes one so hot and tired."
"They shan't go till they've made friends," said Jack, setting his teeth; and thrusting his hand into his pocket he brought out a piece of thick string, the Zulu boys watching him intently.
They remained where Jack had placed them, and going down on one knee he seized the right hand of each, placed them together, and proceeded to tie them--pretty tightly too.
"There!" cried Jack. "Now you stop till you're good friends once more."
"Good boy now," cried one on the instant.
"Good boy now," cried the other.
"Then shake hands properly," said Jack.
"Give him the boot," cried Sepopo, as soon as his hand was untied, and he had gone through the required ceremony with his brother.
"No, no; give him the boot," cried the other.
"Hold your tongues," cried Jack. "I say, Dick, let's call them something else if they are going to stop with us, Sepopo! Bechele! What names!"
"Well," said Dick, languidly, as he sat down in a weary fashion: "one's going to be your boy, and the other mine. Let's call them `Black Jack' and `Black Dick.'"
"But they are brown," said his brother.
"Yes, they are brown certainly," said Dick, thoughtfully. "Regular coffee colour. You might call one of them `Coffee.'"
"That'll do," said Jack, laughing, "`Coffee!' and shorten it into `Cough.' I say, Dick, I'll have that name, and I can tell people I've got a bad `Cough.' But what will you call the other?"
"I don't know. Stop a moment--`Chicory.'"
"And shorten it into `chick'. That will do, Dick; splendid! Cough and Chick. Now you two, one of you is to be Cough and the other Chick; do you hear?"
The Zulu boys nodded and laughed, though, in spite of the pretty good knowledge of the English language which they had picked up from their intercourse with the British settlers, it is doubtful whether they understood the drift. What they did comprehend, however, was, that they should make friends; and this being settled, there was the old boot.
"Give me boot, and show you big snake," cried Chicory.
"No, no, give me; show more big snake," cried Coffee.
Just then Dinny came up with two old pairs of the lads' boots, which he threw down upon the sandy earth; and reading consent in their young masters' eyes, the Zulu lads pounced upon them with cries of triumph, Coffee obtaining the two rights, and Chicory the two lefts, with which they danced about, flourishing them over their heads with delight.
"Come here, stupids!" cried Jack; and after a little contention, the boys being exceedingly unwilling to part as they thought with their prizes, he managed to make them understand that the boots ought to go in pairs; and the exchange having been made, each boy holding on to a boot with one hand till he got a good grip of the other, they proceeded to put them on.
"Ugh! the haythen bastes," said Dinny, with a look of disgust. "Think of the likes o' them wearing the young masthers' brogues. Ah, Masther Dick, dear, ye'll be repinting it one of these days."
"Dinny, you're a regular prophet of evil," said Dick, quietly.
"Avic--prophet of avil!" cried Dinny. "Well, isn't it the truth? Didn't I say avore we left the owld counthry that no good would come of it? And avore we'd been out here two years didn't the dear misthress-- the saints make her bed in heaven--go and die right away?"
"Dinny! how can you!" cried Jack, angrily, as he saw the tears start into his brother's eyes, and that in spite of the sunburning he turned haggard and pale.
"Don't take any notice, Dick," he whispered, in a tender, loving way, as he laid one arm on his brother's shoulder and drew him aside. "Dinny don't mean any harm, Dick, but he has such a long tongue."
Dick looked piteously in his brother's face, and one tear stole softly down his cheek.
"I say, Dick," cried Jack, imploringly, "don't look like that. It makes me