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Go!" whispered Peter Halket; using a word from each African language he knew. But the black man still stood motionless, looking at him as one paralysed. "Hamba! Sucka! Go!" he whispered, motioning his hand. In an instant a gleam of intelligence shot across the face; then a wild transport.
And, moving more as an automaton than as one under a will, Halket was seated on a chair, with this said old and blind woman by his side, who sat silent and with blank eyes waiting for the stranger to explain what he wanted.
If they didn't choose to sell out at the right time, well, they didn't. "It's the shares that you sell, not the shares you keep, that make the money." But if they couldn't sell them? Here Peter Halket hesitated. Well, the British Government would have to buy them, if they were so bad no one else would; and then no one would lose. "The British Government can't let British share-holders suffer."
In this solemn and affecting duty several officers belonging to the 42d regiment accompanied the detachment, and with them Major Sir Peter Halket, who had lost his father and a brother in the fatal destruction of the army.
"Who?" asked the Englishman, half raising himself on his elbows. "Halket and the Captain." The Colonial paused in the plucking. "My God, you never saw anything like it!" The Englishman sat upright now, and looked keenly over the bushes where Halket's bent head might be seen as he paced to and fro. "What's he doing out there in this blazing sun?" "He's on guard," said the Colonial.
Their officers, in particular, suffered much more than in the ordinary proportion of batteries in Europe. Sir Peter Halket fell by the very first fire, at the head of his regiment; and the general's secretary, son to governor Shirley, was killed soon after.
The Captain said no one was to go near him, or give him anything to eat or drink all day: but " The Colonial glanced round where the trooper lay under the bushes; and then lowering his voice added, "This morning, a couple of hours ago, Halket sent the Captain's coloured boy to ask me for a drink of water.
All men made money when they came to South Africa, Barney Barnato, Rhodes they all made money out of the country, eight millions, twelve millions, twenty-six millions, forty millions; why should not he! Peter Halket started suddenly and listened. But it was only the wind coming up the kopje like a great wheezy beast creeping upwards; and he looked back into the fire.
And he whispered in the darkness to his fellows: 'The dawn is coming. But they, with fast-closed eyelids murmured, 'He lies, there is no dawn. "Nevertheless, day broke." The stranger was silent. The fire burnt up in red tongues of flame that neither flickered nor flared in the still night air. Peter Halket crept near to the stranger.
It would float in London; and people there who didn't know the country would buy the shares; THEY would have to give ready money for them, of course; perhaps fifteen pounds a share when they were up! Peter Halket's eyes blinked as he looked into the fire. And then, when the market was up, he, Peter Halket, would sell out all his shares.
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