When I pointed out to them that they would probably
suffocate in this modern Black Hole of Calcutta, the little man
proceeded to dance round the room, still shouldering his axe, jibbering
the while: "I will not go to fight; I am an American. I will not be put
in the front rank to be shot by the English, or made to dig trenches."
The whole scene was so comic that I sat down and laughed, and the climax
was reached when the cock-sparrow, who had always talked so big of what
he was going to do and to say to the Boers, crawled under the old grand
piano in the farther corner of the big room. I was forced to tell him
that no American or Englishman could be found in such an ignominious
position, should the house be searched, and I even assured the little
gentleman that I did not think it was the least likely his services
would be wanted. The other man, whose position was more risky, I advised
to lie down on the sofa and feign illness; and I really believe anxiety
and worry had so preyed on him that he was as ill as he looked. When
calm had been restored, I sat down to lunch, Mrs. Fraser coming in at
intervals to report what our visitors were doing at the store. They had
demanded coffee and many tins of salmon and sardines. Of these
delicacies they seemed particularly fond, eating the latter with their
fingers, after which they drank the oil, mixed for choice with golden
syrup.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127