"I'm very well, thank you, Backfield.""While I have a roof the way-faring man shall never sleep""They're no good, them Boers," he announced at the Cocks; "there they've bin fur years and years, and[Pg 409] they say as how that Transvaal's lik a desert. They've got mizzling liddle farms such as I wudn't give sixpence forand all that gurt veldt's lik the palm of my hand, naun growing. They d?an't deserve to have a country."He stood with his arms folded over his chest, and watched the first stars flicker above Castweasel. The scent of the ground steamed up to mingle with the mists, a soft rasp of frost was in the air and the earth which he had loved seemed to breathe out towards him, and tell him that by his faithful service he had won not only Boarzell but all gracious soil, all the secrets of seed-time and harvest, all the tender mysteries of sap, and growth.