LITMIR.BIZ

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of six feet or more into the air. As they passed the bushes towards which Considine drove them, a white puff was seen to burst from them, and the huge roer of Hans Marais sent forth its bellowing report. It seemed as if the entire flock of boks had received an electric shock, so high did they spring into the air. Then they dashed off at full speed, leaving one of their number dead upon the plain.

      When Considine came up he found that Hans had already disembowelled the springbok, and was in the act of fastening the carcase on his horse behind the saddle. Remounting immediately, the hunter galloped towards a mound, on the top of which the bushes formed a dense brake. Skirting this till he reached the other side, he pulled up, exclaiming—

      “There, you’ll find good water in the hollow; go drink, while I prepare supper on the koppie.”

      Considine went off at once. Indeed, he could not have done otherwise, for his impatient horse took the bit in its mouth and galloped towards a small pool of water, which was so yellow with mud that it resembled thin pea-soup.

      Thirsty though he was, the youth could not help smiling at his new friend’s idea of “good” water, but he was not in a condition to be fastidious. Jumping out of the saddle, he lay down on his breast, dipped his lips into the muddy liquid, and drank with as much enjoyment as if the beverage had been nectar—or Bass. Rob Roy also stood, in a state of perfect bliss, in the middle of the pool, sucking the water in with unwearied vigour. It seemed as if man and horse had laid a wager as to who should drink most. At last, the point of utmost capacity in both was reached, and they retired with a sigh of contentment, Rob Roy to browse on the plain, and his master to betake himself to the encampment on the knoll, where Hans Marais quickly supplied him with glorious steaks of springbok venison.

      “Isn’t it an enjoyable thing to eat when one is hungry, eh?” said Considine, after half an hour’s silent devotion to the duty in hand.—“Why, where got you that?”

      He referred to an ostrich egg which his companion had taken from a saddle-bag, and in one end of which he was busy boring a hole.

      “Found it in the sand just before I found you,” said Hans. “Did you ever eat one?”

      “No, never.”

      “Well then, you shall do so now, and I’ll show you how the niggers here make an omelet.”

      He planted the huge egg in the hot ashes as he spoke, and kept stirring its contents with a piece of stick until sufficiently cooked.

      “Not bad,—eh?”

      “Glorious!” exclaimed Considine, smacking his lips.

      Both youths continued to smack their lips over the egg until it was finished, after which Charlie pronounced it not only a glorious but a satisfying morsel. This was doubtless true, for an ostrich egg is considered equal to twenty-four hen’s eggs.

      Returning to the springbok steaks, the half-starved youth continued his repast, while Hans Marais, having finished, extended his huge frame beside the camp-fire, leaned upon his saddle, and smoked his pipe in benignant contemplation of his companion.

      “This is pleasant!” said Charlie, pausing, with a sigh, and looking up.

      “Ja, it is pleasant,” replied Hans.

      “Ja!” repeated Charlie, quoting the Dutch “Yes” of the other; “are you a Dutchman?”

      “I am; at least I am a Cape colonist descended from Dutchmen. Why are you surprised?”

      “Because,” replied his companion, while he prepared another steak over the embers, “you speak English so well that I could not have known it. How came you to learn the language so perfectly?”

      “My father, being wiser than some of his friends and neighbours,” said Hans, “sent me to Capetown to be educated. I suppose that is the reason. We dwelt in the western part of the colony then, and I was the eldest of the family. When a number of us Dutchmen left that part of the country—being disgusted with the Government,—and came up here, my brothers and sister had to be taken from school. This was a pity, for education taught me to know that education is an inestimable blessing—the want of it a heavy misfortune.”

      “True,” remarked Considine. But being still too busy with the steaks to pursue the subject he merely added—“Does your father live near this?”

      “About seven hours’ ride, which, as I daresay you know, is forty-two miles. You shall go home with me to-morrow.”

      “How many are there of you?” asked Considine, looking at the young Dutchman over a bone. “Excuse my being so impolite,” he added, “but d’you know, one feels horribly like a tiger after a two days’ fast.”

      “Don’t stand on ceremony,” said the other, with a laugh. “When you are satisfied we can converse. There are fifteen of us: father, mother, sister, and eleven boys besides myself. I’ll tell you about them all after supper; meanwhile I’ll go fetch the horses, for there are lions about, as I daresay you know, and some of them are nearly as ravenous as yourself.”

      Hans rose, put his pipe in the band of his broad-brimmed hat, and sauntered heavily out of the thicket.

      In a few minutes he returned, leading the horses, and then busied himself in surrounding the camp with an almost impenetrable wall of mimosa-thorn branches, the spikes of which were so tremendous that it seemed as if nothing smaller than an elephant could force its way through. This done, he sat down and quietly refilled his pipe, while Considine, having at last finished his meal, drew the embers of the fire together, disposed his limbs comfortably on the ground, lay back on his saddle, and prepared to enjoy a contemplative gaze at the cheering blaze and an interrogative conversation with his new friend.

      “Do you smoke?” asked Hans.

      “No.”

      “Why?”

      “Because it makes me sick, and I don’t like it.”

      Hans looked surprised. This was a new idea to him, and he sat for some time pondering it; indeed, we may say with truth that he “smoked it” In a few minutes he looked earnestly at the youth, and asked why he came to the Cape.

      “To make my fortune,” answered Considine.

      “Fortunes are not easily made at the Cape,” was the grave reply. “My father has been making his fortune for the last quarter of a century, and it’s not made yet.—Why did you choose the Cape?”

      “I didn’t choose it.”

      “No?” said the Dutchman, with a look of surprise.

      “No,” responded the Englishman; “my coming here was not a matter of choice: it was necessity. Come, I will make a confidant of you and relate my history. Don’t be alarmed, I won’t keep you up all night with prosy details. My life, as you may see, has not yet been a long one, and until this year it has been comparatively uneventful.”

      He paused a few moments as if to recall the past, while his companion, picking his pipe with a mimosa thorn, settled himself to listen.

      “Father, mother, brothers, and sisters I have none,” began Considine as he whittled a stick—a pastime, by the way, which is erroneously supposed to be an exclusively American privilege. “Neither have I grandfathers, grandmothers, aunts, nephews, nieces, or anything else of the sort. They all died either before or soon after I was born. My only living relation is an uncle, who was my guardian. He is a sea-captain, and a good man, but tough. I bear him no ill-will. I would not speak disrespectfully of him; but he is tough, and, I incline to think, no better than he should be. Infancy and boyhood with squalling and schooling I pass over. My uncle ordered me to study for the medical profession, and I obeyed. Wishing to see a little of the world before finishing my course, I sailed in a vessel bound for Australia. We touched at Table Bay in passing. Obtaining leave, I went ashore at Capetown. The ship also went ashore—without leave—in company with six other ships, during a terrific gale which sprang up in the night. Our vessel became a total wreck. The crew were saved, but my effects went with the cargo to the bottom. Fortunately, however, I had carried ashore with me the little cash I possessed.”

      “I

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