"You will have plenty of opportunities, for Dutch is the language of the house. Sometimes I speak in English with my husband, because I wish to keep it up, but he speaks Dutch as well as I do. But as the Kaffirs speak our language, and do not understand English, it is much more convenient to speak that language. You had better get Hans," she went on, turning to her husband, "to go about with him; in that way he will soon learn to speak Taal. He is very little use to me about the house; he is very lazy, and if it wasn't for his father having been killed on the place, I would not keep him a day." Hans had taken the horses when the cart drew up. He was a rough, slouching lad of about Yorke's age, loosely built, and altogether unkempt and slovenly; his father, who had been Mr. Allnutt's head cattleman, had been thrown from his horse and pitched on his head, breaking his neck instantly. Hans Smidt, who was ten years old at the time, having no relations, had been taken on at the house, and was supposed to aid in looking after the horses there, watering the garden, and doing odd jobs. He was now receiving the same wages as the Kaffir labourers, although, as Mrs. Allnutt declared, a Kaffir boy was worth a dozen of him. For the next few days Yorke rode about the farm with his cousin, inspecting the herds and getting a general idea of the place. "You will save me a good deal of trouble, Yorke," his cousin, who objected to trouble of any kind, said. "You can ride down twice a day and see that the Kaffirs are doing their work and preventing the cattle from straying too far away. Beyond that you can amuse yourself as you like. There are a dozen young horses which want breaking in. I see you have a good seat, and you will, no doubt, be able to manage that. There is no shooting about here, though you can occasionally get a deer among the hills. Still, it is just as well that you should learn to use a rifle. Every man in this country is a fair marksman, and, even when there is little chance of coming upon game, often rides with his rifle slung across his back. I am sure you would not like to be beaten by any of the Dutch lads. They are not such good shots now as they used to be when game was plentiful, and of course shooting is not so important here as it is in the Transvaal, where every man may be called upon at any moment to go out on commando against the natives. Still, it is the accomplishment on which Boers pride themselves, and you may find it useful if you stay in the country. For if one is to believe all these Dutchmen say, there is likely to be a lot of trouble out here before long." "Not in this part, I suppose, uncle,"--for so Yorke had taken to call his cousin. "I know there may be a row in the Transvaal, but surely not here?"