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Updated: June 8, 2025
But Bough, primed with knowledge as to which are dummy rifle-pits and which are real, aided by acquaintance with the ground, and covered by that wuthering night of storm, has already pierced the lines. Subsequently that excellent Afrikander, Mr. Van Busch, rejoins Brounckers' bright boy at Tweipans, with information that decides the date of Schenk Eybel's Feint from the East.
And verily he reaped his reward, in an officially countersigned railway pass, which would enable the patriot to render some further services to British arms, and a great many more to Van Busch, of Johannesburg. He had his knavish headquarters still at the Border homestead known as Haargrond Plaats. Something drew him back to the place, and kept on drawing him.
"I'm willing to go back in anything that isn't a coffin," she declared. He gave the wooden chuckle, swung about and trampled to the door, calling to Van Busch in the tone of a dog's master: "Here, you ...!" Van Busch followed, wriggling as obsequiously as the dog with a stolen mutton-chop upon his conscience. The door slammed, the key turned roughly in the lock.
For another thing, very pleasant to think of, he had successfully pitted the cunning behind his giant spectacles against the superior villainy of Mr. Van Busch of Johannesburg.
Was burning for an opening in the diplomatic go-betweening line; wanted to dabble in War Correspondence, and so on. But Van Busch gathered that the biggest egg in the little lady's nest of ambitions was the desire to do a flutter on the Secret Service lay. She wanted to be what he termed a "slew," and she would have called a spy. He fiddled to her dancing, and wearied before she did.
"Many thanks, and don't give me away if you should happen to meet me in a different skin one of these fine days, Mr. Van Busch." "Sure, no; not I," said the burly Johannesburger, with an effusion of what looked like genuine admiration. "By thunder! when it comes to playing the risky game there's no daring to beat a woman's. Give me a petticoat, say I, for a partner every time." "Bravo!"
Of the British South African War Intelligence Bureau. That man knew how to value women. And he had proved them at what he called the risky game. "With nerve and josh like yours, and plenty of money for palm-oil ..." Van Busch had said, and winked, signifying that there were no lengths to which a woman of Lady Hannah Wrynche's capabilities might not go.
The negotiations were tedious, but at length, on the evening of 23rd November 1870 the Convention with Bavaria was signed, and the unity of Germany was an accomplished fact. Busch vividly depicts the great moment: The Chief came in from the salon, and sat down at the table. "Now," he exclaimed excitedly, "the Bavarian business is settled and everything is signed.
Prominent among the military organizations were the New York Sixty-ninth, "wearing the green;" the Grenadiers Rochambeau, of New York; the Jackson Corps, of Albany; the Continentals, of Schenectady; the Fifth Maryland Infantry, the Meagher Guards, of Providence; the Busch Zouaves, of St. Louis, and several companies of colored men from the South.
Van Busch of Johannesburg, had dropped. Hell, no! That unripe nectarine had been plucked and eaten years ago. And yet how the ripe fruit allured him to-day, seen against its background of dull green leaves, its smooth cheeks glowing under the kisses of the sun. The swell English officer had kissed them too. As she meant, the sly little devil, slipping away for her bit of fun.
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