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Updated: May 20, 2025
And what else was there to be done? asked the field-cornet of himself. Were they to remain there all their lives, subsisting precariously on game and roots? Were his children to become "Bush-boys," himself a Bushman? With these reflections passing through his mind, no wonder that Von Bloom felt deeply afflicted.
But, perhaps, these were not the least happy years of his existence, since, during all the time both he and his family had enjoyed the most estimable of earthly blessings, health. He had not allowed his children to grow up without instruction. He had not permitted them to lapse into the character of mere "Bush-boys."
It was clear that the thing could be done, and without difficulty. A new hope sprang up in the heart of the field-cornet. Once more his countenance became radiant with joy. He communicated his thoughts both to the Bushman and "Bush-boys" all of whom highly approved of the idea, and only wondered that none of them had thought of it before.
Their parents would not consent to their going so far from home, on an excursion promising so many hardships and so much danger. Besides, it was necessary that they should become something better than mere Bush-Boys, by spending a few years at school. The two young cornets, Hendrik Von Bloom and Arend Van Wyk, each endeavouring to wear the appearance of old warriors, are present in the camp.
While trekking through Cape Colony, to see everybody and everything for himself, Sir George was often able to be the keen sportsman. Before his camp was awake, of a morning, he would make a bowl of black coffee, shoulder his rifle, and start off, with a couple of bush-boys for gillies.
For years he should lead the life of a Bushman for years his sons would be "Bush-boys," and he hoped that in time his patience and toil would be amply rewarded. That night around the camp-fire all were very happy and very merry. The elephant had been left where he lay, to be cut up on the morrow. Only his trunk had been taken off part of which was cooked for supper.
And what else was there to be done? asked the field-cornet of himself. Were they to remain there all their lives, subsisting precariously on game and roots? Were his children to become "Bush-boys," himself a Bushman? With these reflections passing through his mind, no wonder that Von Bloom felt deeply afflicted.
His pretty Gertrude would be no better off than a little savage his sons would become not in sport, as he was wont to call them, but in reality a trio of "Bush-boys." Once more these thoughts filled the heart of the father with pain. Oh! what would he not have given at that moment for a pair of horses, of any sort whatever?
It was clear that the thing could be done, and without difficulty. A new hope sprang up in the heart of the field-cornet. Once more his countenance became radiant with joy. He communicated his thoughts both to the Bushman and "Bush-boys" all of whom highly approved of the idea, and only wondered that none of them had thought of it before.
For years he should lead the life of a Bushman for years his sons would be "Bush-boys," and he hoped that in time his patience and toil would be amply rewarded. That night around the camp-fire all were very happy and very merry. The elephant had been left where he lay, to be cut up on the morrow. Only his trunk had been taken off part of which was cooked for supper.
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