Now I have only mentioned this business of the Annexation and the part you played in it, because it was on that occasion that I became acquainted with Anscombe.  For you have nothing to do with this story which is about the destruction of the Zulus, the accomplishment of the vengeance of Zikali the wizard at the kraal named Finished, and incidentally, the love affairs of two people in which that old wizard took a hand, as I did to my sorrow.

It happened that Mr. Anscombe had ridden on ahead of his wagons which could not arrive at Pretoria for a day or two, and as he found it impossible to get accommodation at the European or elsewhere, I offered to let him sleep in mine, or rather alongside in a tent I had.  He accepted and soon we became very good friends.  Before the day was out I discovered that he had served in a crack cavalry regiment, but resigned his commission some years before.  I asked him why.

“Well,” he said, “I came into a good lot of money on my mother’s death and could not see a prospect of any active service.  While the regiment was abroad I liked the life well enough, but at home it bored me.  Too much society for my taste, and that sort of thing.  Also I wanted to travel; nothing else really amuses me.”

“You will soon get tired of it,” I answered, “and as you are well off, marry some fine lady and settle down at home.”

“Don’t think so.  I doubt if I should ever be happily married, I want too much.  One doesn’t pick up an earthly angel with a cast-iron constitution who adores you, which are the bare necessities of marriage, under every bush.”  Here I laughed.  “Also,” he added, the laughter going out of his eyes, “I have had enough of fine ladies and their ways.”

“Marriage is better than scrapes,” I remarked sententiously.

“Quite so, but one might get them both together.  No, I shall never marry, although I suppose I ought as my brothers have no children.”

“Won’t you, my friend,” thought I to myself, “when the skin grows again on your burnt fingers.”

For I was sure they had been burnt, perhaps more than once.  How, I never learned, for which I am rather sorry for it interests me to study burnt fingers, if they do not happen to be my own.  Then we changed the subject.

Anscombe’s wagons were delayed for a day or two by a broken axle or a bog hole, I forget which.  So, as I had nothing particular to do until the Natal post-cart left, we spent the time in wandering about Pretoria, which did not take us long as it was but a little dorp in those days, and chatting with all and sundry.  Also we went up to Government House as it was now called, and left cards, or rather wrote our names in a book for we had no cards, being told by one of the Staff whom we met that we should do so.  An hour later a note arrived asking us both to dinner that night and telling us very nicely not to mind if we had no dress things.  Of course we had to go, Anscombe rigged up in my second best clothes that did not fit him in the least, as he was a much taller man than I am, and a black satin bow that he had bought at Becket’s Store together with a pair of shiny pumps.