Accordingly, at half-past eight on a beautiful morning up came the
tented cart, with its two massive wheels, stout stinkwood disselboom,
and four spirited young horses; to the heads of which the Hottentot
Jantje, assisted by the Zulu Mouti, clad in the sweet simplicity of a
moocha, a few feathers in his wool, and a horn snuffbox stuck through
the fleshy part of the ear, hung on grimly. In they got--John first,
then Bessie next to him, then Jess. Next Jantje scrambled up behind; and
after some preliminary backing and plunging, and showing a disposition
to twine themselves affectionately round the orange-trees, off went
the horses at a hand gallop, and away swung the cart after them, in a
fashion that would have frightened anybody, not accustomed to that mode
of progression, pretty well out of his wits. As it was, John had as much
as he could do to keep the four horses together, and to prevent them
from bolting, and this alone, to say nothing of the rattling and jolting
of the vehicle over the uneven track, was sufficient to put a stop to
any attempt at conversation.

Wakkerstroom is about eighteen miles from Mooifontein, a distance that
they covered well within the two hours. Here the horses were outspanned
at the hotel, and John went into the house whence the post-cart was
to start and booked Jess's seat, and then joined the ladies at the
_Kantoor_ or store where they were shopping. When their purchases were
made, they went back to the inn together and ate some dinner; by which
time the Hottentot driver of the cart began to tune up lustily, but
unmelodiously, on a bugle to inform intending passengers that it was
time to start. Bessie was out of the room at the moment, and, with the
exception of a peculiarly dirty-looking coolie waiter, there was nobody
about.

"How long are you going to be away, Miss Jess?" asked John.