There was nothing of the
music-hall type about them; they were nearly all old-fashioned ditties.
She sang to them of "Barbara Allen" and "Sally in our Alley"; she
gave them "Cheer, Boys, Cheer," and called for a chorus; she sang "The
Message," "The Arrow and the Song"; and she brought back memories of
other days when Africa was to them a mere geographical expression--of
days when that something had not happened which had sent them away from
home.
Sunday came, the fifth day after her arrival, and it differed from the
usual Sabbath of Big Stone Hole. Sunday had been observed before by
the biggest drinking bout of the week, and a summary settlement of the
previous six days' disputes. Now, to the huge surprise of the Kaffirs,
and to the still greater surprise of themselves, these diamond-diggers
sang hymns at intervals during the day, and refrained from indulging in
the orthodox carouse till after Miss Musgrave had retired for the night.
It was a wonderful change.
During the next week a fall of earth took place in Tommy Dartmoor's
claim. Two Kaffirs were killed; and when the proprietor himself was
extricated from the debris of blue clay which held him down, he was
found to have a broken arm, besides other serious injuries.
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