"Let Bruce go rather than you," the mother ended, her eyes full of tears and a choke in her voice.
"Yes, do, father; let me go!" said Bruce.
"With apologies for interrupting family arrangements," began the old stranger, who chose to be called Uncle Ben, "I am the one that's got to go, and as soon as some of you have explained the road and lent me a nag, I'm off. You may be proud of this youngster of yours, boss; he's a lad of spirit, and he'll do well. Now which way do I go—north, south, east, or west?"
"I really don't know that we ought to allow you to risk your life," Gerston began hesitatingly. "The road's difficult to find if you don't know it, and it wouldn't do to get one's self lost in the veldt with those confounded chaps about, looking for white bodies to chuck their assegais at. You'd better let me go, mother; I can take pretty good care of myself; I shall be back by morning."
"Excuse me, mate," said Uncle Ben, "but I ain't one to be put off from his purpose by the danger of meeting a few Mashona fellows with assegais; I've something here that shoots straighter and harder and farther, in case it's wanted. Come, how does one steer, and what about a horse?"
It was obviously useless to waste argument upon the old fellow. His mind was made up, and it was quickly decided to let him have his way; the more so since, as a matter of fact, it was convenient enough that he should go, rather than Gerston, whose place was undoubtedly at the side of his wife and daughter, and at the head of those who would assist him to defend their lives and his property.
So Uncle Ben was duly instructed as to the road to Thomson's farm; and now it became evident that descriptions intended to direct a ride of twenty-five miles over the veldt are apt to bewilder as much as to enlighten, and that the old fellow's mind had been considerably mixed by his instructions as to the way he should go on reaching this belt of jungle or that kopje.
"You'd better let me go with him, father!" said persistent Bruce; "the cleverest veldt-traveller might lose his way between here and Thomson's. I shall surely be all right with Uncle Ben. You can give me a revolver in case of accidents."
"You can bet your last sovereign nothing'll happen to him while old Ben Caldecott's breath is in his body!" added the old fellow. "If he's going to be hurt, then I'm dead first, mind you; but the Mashona beggars won't catch me napping, you may bet. Besides, the lad would run quite as much risk at home to-day as riding over the veldt, seeing as how you ain't going to be let alone to sleep comfortably in your beds."