: Harley Greenoak's Charge by Mitford Bertram - South Africa Fiction

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Harley Greenoak's Charge, by Bertram Mitford.

THE OPENING OF THE COMPACT.

"You will look after him, won't you?"

"Certainly. You can rely upon me absolutely."

Thus two men on the deck of a ship. One was silver-haired, elderly, spare and very refined looking. The other, of medium height, broadly built, and middle-aged, was, in his way, of striking appearance. His strong face, lined and sun-tanned, was half hidden in a full, iron-grey beard, and the keen blue eyes with their straight glance, were of that kind which would be deadly looking at you from behind the sights of a rifle. His hands, rough and hard, were like his face, burnt almost to a mahogany brown, the result of forty-five years' exposure--man and boy-- to the varying climates of the southern section of the African continent. And the first speaker was Sir Anson Selmes, Bart., and the second was Harley Greenoak, hunter, prospector, native trader, native fighter, stock farmer, transport rider, and other things--all in turn. And as he plays an important part in some strange adventures which are to befall, we have dwelt somewhat at length upon his personal aspect. His character you shall discover for yourself.

"Rely upon you? I'm sure I can," went on Sir Anson, heartily. "And Dick has a boundless capacity for getting into scrapes of one kind or another. There's no vice in him, but he simply can't help it. You'll find him no sinecure, I'm afraid."

"Oh, as to that," answered Greenoak, easily, "we shall pull all right. You see, I've already been sizing him up to my own satisfaction or I wouldn't have undertaken to look after him."

"That I'm sure you wouldn't, Greenoak," laughed Sir Anson. "You're nothing if not decisive."

"I'm afraid a man gets rather blunt after leading a life like mine," said the other.

"I'm only too fortunate in getting hold of a man of your experience to look after the boy," rejoined the baronet, heartily. "Why, there he is."

The subject of their conversation burst upon them in his breezy way. He was a tall, fine young fellow of twenty-six, blue eyed, light haired, healthy, wholesome, athletic, and looking what he was--an English gentleman.

"Hallo, dad. What are you and Greenoak plotting there? Why, you've been in earnest confab for at least an hour. What's the subject?"

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