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When Philip returned to Vrymeer he found his life much altered, for the Troxel boys were back from border duty and were out of uniform. One sight of them warned Saltwood that he was in trouble, for they were a handsome pair, with the fine looks and open smiles of the true Afrikaner. Frikkie was twenty-five, about six feet three, slim, easy in his movements and with a rather serious mien. When Mr. van Doorn introduced him he said, 'Frik's a rugby halfback and one of the best.'

Jopie was different. Well under six feet, he was built like a Roman wall, one massive building block set down upon another. He was broad, in all respects. He had a wide face and very wide mouth from which massive square teeth showed. His shoulders and hips were enormous, for although he was much shorter than Frikkie, he was also much heavier, but what startled Philip was the fact that Jopie had no neck. As with many of the historic rugby forwards, Fanie Louw and Frik du Preez among them, Jopie Troxel's head was set square upon his shoulders, giving his body a battering-ram quality which he used to powerful effect, but in no way was he a gross or insensitive person, and he had in the middle of his chin a deep dimple which quivered when he laughed. His humor was robust, and it was obvious that Sannie van Doorn appreciated it.

Her father had introduced Frikkie; she took charge of Jopie: This is my dear friend, who wears his hair forward, like Julius Caesar, and that isn't the only thing forward about him.' With a massive right hand Jopie grabbed Philip's and said, 'Did Jimmy Carter and Andy Young send you over here to tell us how to run our country?'

Philip stiffened. 'I came to find diamonds.'

'Finding any?'

'No. You damned people keep everything hidden.'

'We'd better,' Jopie said, 'or you and the English would steal it.'

'How was the border?' Marius asked, aware that these three young men were behaving like bulls caught up in the heat of spring. He suspected that daughter Sannie was about to experience a difficult spell.

Frikkie dropped into a chair and accepted the beer that Sannie brought. 'It's rotten work. You patrol fifteen days in the bush and see maybe one terrorist. Ta-ta-ta-ta. He's gone, but you know there's a dozen back there somewhere.'

'But we're holding our own?'

'Definitely. There's this Kaffir from here, this Jonathan Nxumalo. He issues a threat now and then on Radio Maputo, as you know. Going to storm Johannesburg. But he's damned sure to stay clear of our patrols.'

'You mean there was real fighting?' Sannie asked.

'Whenever the black bastards gave us a chance,' Jopie said.

'How long were you at the border?' Philip asked, and Jopie looked at his cousin to check whether this was privileged information.

'Six months. It's our obligation.'

'We certainly missed you on the team,' Marius said, hoping to change the conversation, but Philip asked, 'How long can this go on? I mean, with so many young men taken out of productive work?'

'You ask two questions which only an American would ask,' Frikkie said sharply. 'How long? As if everything had to be completed in a hurry. We can guard our borders for the next hundred years. And is it productive? No, it isn't, in the sense of making things at a factory. But what could possibly be more productive than protecting one's country?'

'That subject is closed,' Marius said. 'Now tell me, how soon can you men get back into shape for the big matches facing us?'

'On the border,' Jopie said, 'you're always in shape. I could play Saturday.'

'Do you mean that?'

'Me, too,' Frikkie said, and when Philip looked at the young commandos he knew that they were telling the truth.

The game was against a team from Bloemfontein, and when the Troxels ran onto the field the crowd cheered wildly, for newspapers had hinted at their exploits at the frontier. They displayed the poetic abandon for which they had been famous, but they lost, rather badly, as a matter of fact, 23-9. They did have a great time and