Africa -- Fiction; Businessmen -- Fiction; Crime -- England -- Fiction; Criminals -- England -- Fiction
Ezra had two motives in galloping across the veldt that October night.
One was to judge with his own ears and eyes what effect the news would
have upon practical men. The other was a desire to gratify that
sinister pleasure which an ill-natured man has in being the bearer of
evil tidings. They had probably heard the report by this time, but it
was unlikely that any details had reached them. No one knew better than
young Girdlestone that this message from Europe would bring utter ruin
and extinction to many a small capitalist, that it would mean the
shattering of a thousand hopes, and the advent of poverty and misery to
the men with whom he had been associating. In spite of this knowledge,
his heart beat high, as his father's had done in London, and as he
spurred his horse onwards through the darkness, he was hardly able to
refrain from shouting and whooping in his exultation.
The track from Kimberley to Dutoitspan was a rough one, but the moon was
up, and the young merchant found no difficulty in following it. When he
reached the summit of the low hill over which the road ran, he saw the
lights of the little town sparkling in the valley beneath him. It was
ten o'clock before he galloped into the main street, and he saw at a
glance that the news had, as he expected, arrived before him. In front
of the Griqualand Saloon a great crowd of miners had assembled, who were
talking excitedly among themselves. The light of the torches shone down
upon herculean figures, glaring shirts, and earnest bearded faces.
The whole camp appeared to have assembled there to discuss the
situation, and it was evident from their anxious countenances and
subdued voices, that they took no light view of it.
The instant the young man alighted from his horse he was surrounded by a
knot of eager questioners. "You've just come from Kimberley," they
cried. "What is the truth of it, Mr. Girdlestone? Let us know the
truth of it."
"It's a bad business, my friends," he answered, looking around at the
ring of inquiring faces. "I have been reading a full account of it in
the _Cape Argus_. They have made a great find in Russia. There seems
to be no doubt at all about the matter."
"D'ye think it will send prices down here as much as they say?"
"I'm afraid it will send them very low. I hold a lot of stones myself,
and I should be very glad to get rid of them at any price. I fear it
will hardly pay you to work your claims now."
"And the price of claims will go down?"
"Of course it will."
"Eh, mister, what's that?" cried a haggard, unkempt little man, pushing
his way to the front and catching hold of Ezra's sleeve to ensure his
attention. "Did ye say it would send the price o' claims down?
You didn't say that, did you? Why, in course, it stands to reason that
what happened in Roosia couldn't make no difference over here.
That's sense, mates, ain't it?" He looked round him appealingly, and
laughed a little nervous laugh.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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