"I've never seen any one I would so willingly entrust my Verna to as yourself, Denham," said Ben Halse presently; "so there's compensation in that."

"You flatter me too much, Halse. But you won't mind my saying you are about the most imprudent parent-in-law elect I ever heard or read of."

He laughed as he said this. He was glad to throw off the serious vein.

"Why?"

"Because you are taking me so absolutely on trust. You know nothing about me. I may be a fraud financially. I may be an intending bigamist; in fact, anything. Now I tell you what. Before you give me Verna entirely you are to write to my solicitors--the two senior partners of the firm have known me ever since I was born. Write to them privately and separately, and make any and every inquiry that may occur to you."

The trader thought a minute, then he said--

"Well, that's fair and square and above-board, Denham. I'm pretty good at reading men, and I think I've read you accurately. But as you yourself have thrown out the suggestion, you won't be offended if I follow it?"

He looked the other full in the face as though with a searching glance.

But no trace of hesitation did he read there.

"Why, most emphatically not," came the ready answer. "I'm a man of the world, Halse, and if I were in your place I should certainly exact a similar guarantee. You will get answers in a couple of months at the outside, I'll take care of that. Meanwhile, you will sanction our engagement provisionally, subject to those answers being satisfactory to yourself?"

"Yes."

And again the two men clasped hands.

Then followed a couple of weeks of what was simply a halcyon time. The sympathy that had existed between them almost from the very first had deepened now into the most perfect of affinity and trust. Again and again Alaric Denham blessed the chance that had brought him into the wilderness to find this pearl of great price--the one woman in the whole world who seemed born for him, who would stand by him even if the whole world were against him--and there might occur the opportunity of putting even this test upon her, but that he did not then foresee. Long days out together, in the sombre forest, or exploring wild, craggy heights in the clear, exhilarating mountain air; and every one of those days seemed far too short, and never was there the slightest sign of interest flagging between them. He told her more about himself and his life, but there was still that one thing he did not tell her. Yet why should he?

The load was thrown off, and would remain buried in mystery for ever.

Surely this strange, wild country had brought him relief and happiness beyond measure.

One day Verna said--

"Let's ride over and pay a surprise visit to Sapazani this afternoon, father. We promised to show him to Alaric, you know, and he hasn't been here for a long time."

"All right. But how d'you know he's at home?"

"I got it from some of the people this morning. He has been away a long time, but he's back now."

"Yes, he has," said the trader meaningly. "He'll get into trouble if he doesn't watch it. How about the store, though?"

"Oh, we can lock it up for once in a way. n.o.body's likely to come, or if they do it'll only be for a tenpenny knife. Trade's too dismally slack for anything just now."

"That's a grand idea," said Denham. "I had begun to think I was never going to see this 'show' chief of yours."

"By Jove! what a beautifully built kraal!" exclaimed Denham, as they came upon it suddenly, over the lip of the hollow. "Rather different from those wretched, slovenly-looking affairs you see further down."

"Yes; Sapazani is an intense Conservative," said Ben Halse; "wherefore he isn't beloved by those in authority. But the old-time kraals were all built like this one, except in the open country where there was no bush to make fences of. They used stone walls instead, and still do."

They found the chief sitting in the shade of a dried bullock-skin just against the fence of the central open s.p.a.ce. He gave them greeting in a dignified way, as between equals, but did not rise. That was a European custom, and therefore abhorrent to his conservative soul. But he called to an attendant to rig up a similar bullock-skin and to spread mats, not even rugs, for his visitors.

"Case of doing in Zululand as Zulus do, Alaric," laughed Verna. "You'll have to learn the native art of squatting. It's all right when you get used to it."

"Of course. I say, this is an uncommonly fine-looking chap. Do you think he'd let me fire the kodak at him? I put it in my pocket on spec."

"We'll try presently, but I doubt it."

Meanwhile Sapazani was asking Halse who his guest was. He knew perfectly, but still he asked. Denham the while was watching him with intense interest. He had seen two or three chiefs at Ezulwini, looking thorough "slouches" in waistcoats and shirt-sleeves and ragged smasher hats. But this was a splendid specimen in every way. He looked every inch a chief, they did not, every inch a king, even. He hardly liked to present this dignified-looking savage with a superfluous pair of binoculars, by no means new, which he had brought along to that end.

But Verna, consulted, set his doubts at rest on that score.

"What is he yarning about?" he asked.

"Oh, just commonplaces. He wouldn't talk about anything else in the presence of a mere woman," laughed Verna. "If father and he were alone together it would be different. Would you like to say anything to him?

I can translate."

"Yes, dear. Tell him I'm sorry I can't talk to him myself, but that you can do it much better for me."

"No, I won't put it that way." She put the remark, however, and Sapazani smiled, showing his splendid white teeth, his l.u.s.trous eyes moving from the one to the other.

"A splendid-looking chap, by Jingo!" p.r.o.nounced Denham again. "A real type of the Zulu I've heard about or read about."

The last remark Verna translated. The chief smiled again.

"I don't know who the strange _Inkosi_ is," he answered. "He looks like one great in his own country. Perhaps the day will come when he will be able to speak with those who are great in his own country for those who were once great in ours."

To this Denham answered that he would certainly do so if ever there was occasion for it.

Now some women appeared bringing _tywala_. The vessels were scrupulously clean, and the pinkish, hissing brew looked uncommonly inviting in its black clay bowls. Denham had tried it before, but had never been able to take to it. This, however, looked different.

"Try again, Alaric," said Verna. "You'll find this a superior brew. I know I'm dying of thirst."

A portion was set before each of them, with the _punga_, or preliminary sip, which custom required on the part of the entertainers. Denham did try it, and voted it excellent, and then took a very long pull indeed.

"Now you're initiated, dear," said Verna merrily, "once you've learnt to drink _tywala_."

"I call this uncommonly jolly," p.r.o.nounced Denham, looking around.

"These chaps must have a good time of it."

The domed huts within their ring fences shone yellow and picturesque in the sunlight. A few men were seated in groups chatting in a ba.s.s undertone, and the red top-knots of women showed above the thorn fence, gazing curiously at the visitors.

"Sapazani would tell you 'must have _had_ a good time of it,'" said Ben Halse. "He's a man of the past."

"Discontented?"

"Rather."

"Tell him I want to give him this, Halse," producing the binoculars.

"To remember my visit by."