"Do you feel like paying Bob Kingsland a visit, Ridgeley?"

"Rather. Does he live near here, then?"

"A few miles off. In fact, this outspan is almost on his farm. Doorn Draai, it's called. We've come along very well, and the grazing here is first rate. It won't hurt the oxen to have a day's rest and a real good fill up. We'll have breakfast early and ride over. We are likely to find some of them at home, anyway."

"That'll be first rate!" said Gerard, with genuine pleasure. And then he set to work to serve out rations to the leaders and drivers, each of whom received a measure of maize-meal, which, going into a common stock, was stirred up in a three-legged pot and soon reduced to porridge, for on such fare do the natives of Natal wax fat and strong. Afterwards he got out a clean basin and kneaded up _roster-koekjes_, a species of damper-cake, and put them to bake on the ashes for their own breakfast, while Dawes superintended the cooking of a savoury game stew, compounded of partridges, ringdoves, and a plover or two, which they had shot the day before while coming along.

"We don't live so badly, even on the road, eh, Ridgeley?" said Dawes, as they sat doing ample justice to this, and to the steaming cups of strong black coffee wherewith it was washed down.

"No, indeed," a.s.sented Gerard, briskly, beginning on half a partridge.

"Shall we take a gun along this morning?"

"We might. Don't know that it's worth while, though. By the way, Kingsland's a widower, and his pretty daughter keeps house for him.

Don't you go and fall in love with her--in view of the time our trip is likely to last."

For reply Gerard laughed light-heartedly. It was not likely, he thought, remembering that pair of blue eyes in the buggy.

After breakfast they saddled up the horses, and Dawes having given Sintoba some final instructions, they started. The ride was a pleasant enough one, though somewhat hot. Their way lay mostly at the bottom of a long winding valley with great bush-clad slopes shooting up on either hand, and the sunny air was alive with the piping whistle of spreuws and the cooing of innumerable ringdoves.

"There's the house," said Dawes, as a curl of blue smoke rose from the bush-clad hillside about a mile ahead. "And--there's Kingsland himself," he added, as a shout from a little way off their road drew their attention to a horseman who was riding towards them.

"Hallo, John Dawes!" cried the latter, as he joined them. "Where have you dropped from now--and who have you got with you? Why, it's young Ridgeley. Well, Ridgeley, I'm glad to see you, my boy. What have you been doing with yourself all this time? By-the-by, didn't you get my letter?"

"Letter? No," echoed Gerard, in some astonishment.

"Why, I wrote to you at Anstey's about a fortnight ago. Found out you were there through the papers. That affair with the Zulu and the Umgeni Fall went the round of the papers. Didn't you see it?"

"No," answered Gerard, still lost in astonishment. "I'm very sorry. I don't know what you must have thought of me, Mr Kingsland, but--I never had that letter. It must have come after I left, and--the fact is, Anstey and I didn't part on very good terms."

"So? The paragraph said you were in his employ. Couldn't you get on with him, or wasn't the work to your taste?"

"Anstey swindled him out of every shilling he had," put in Dawes, seeing Gerard hesitate and look a trifle embarra.s.sed. "Biggest blackguard in this colony, is Anstey."

"So?" said Mr Kingsland again. "Well, we must hear all about your experiences by-and-by, Ridgeley. Here we are at the house now--and here's my little housekeeper come to see who I'm bringing home to dinner," he added lovingly, as the figure of a girl appeared at the door and came down the steps to meet them. "Ridgeley, this is my daughter May," he went on, when they had dismounted. "May, you've heard me talk of this young man--we were shipmates on board the _Amatikulu_. Why, what's the matter?"

For Gerard was staring in astonishment, and the girl's blue eyes were opening wide with the same emotion, while a slight colour came into her face. And in those blue eyes Gerard recognised the identical pair which had beamed approval on the deft manner in which he had reduced the odds against the sorely beset Zulu.

"Why, we've met before, father, only we didn't know who we were then,"

she answered. "How do you do, Mr Ridgeley? Welcome to Doorn Draai."

Gerard, in a sort of waking dream, took the hand extended to him--in no wise the sharer of the girl's quiet self-possession. To think that the owner of those blue eyes which had been in his thoughts a great deal since that chance meeting, should turn out to be old Kingsland's daughter! And again, the fact that they had dwelt in his thoughts was, considering his age, enough to play havoc with his composure on finding himself thus suddenly and unexpectedly face to face with their owner.

"Met before, have you?" echoed Mr Kingsland, in some surprise.

"Why, of course we have," said a male voice in the background. "How d'you do, Mr Ridgeley!"

And Gerard found himself shaking hands with the other occupant of the buggy on that memorable evening.

"Been keeping up your boxing since then, eh?" laughed Tom Kingsland.

"Why, governor, this is the man who floored those two n.i.g.g.e.rs so neatly.

I told you about it, you remember, when we were coming back from Maritzburg."

"Ah, to be sure, to be sure. He can take care of himself anywhere now, I should think," said the older man, kindly.

And Gerard, though somewhat shy and embarra.s.sed at finding himself a sort of point of general observation, could not resist a feeling of elation over the consciousness that he stood well in the opinion of his new friends.

Then, after a brief rest, during which Dawes and Mr Kingsland put away a gla.s.s of grog together and smoked a pipe or two, they set out for a look round. And then for the first time Gerard was able to take in the place--for at the time of his arrival he had had no eyes for anything but one of its inhabitants. The house, a roomy, one-storeyed building, with a _stoep_ and verandah, stood against the slope of the hill. A little distance off stood the sheep and cattle-kraals, and the huts of the native servants. Below, on the bank of a small watercourse, was a large bit of enclosed and cultivated land, and beside this a fruit orchard.

"I'm afraid it's a little late for fruit," said Tom Kingsland, as they strolled through the latter. "There are still a few peaches left, though, and any amount of figs."

"You can't grow peaches and grapes like this out-of-doors in England?"

said May. "I suppose you hardly ever see such a thing there except under gla.s.s."

"Oh yes--on walls," said Gerard.

And then, as they wandered on beneath the pleasant shade of the over-arching fig trees, and down by a quince hedge spangled with yellow fruit, or again emerged upon a water-hole where a colony of finks dashed hither and thither chattering in alarm, while their globular nests, hanging like oranges from the boughs above the water, swung and jerked at a rate which promised badly for the eggs they might contain--the girl plied him with all manner of questions about England and the life there.

And, lo, when they had laughed over each other's mistakes and misconceptions with regard to their respective countries, it seemed as if they had known each other all their lives. Certain it was that to Gerard that walk seemed the most delicious he had ever taken. But it could not last for ever, and so they had to return to the house and to dinner.

There they found Mr Kingsland's other son, who was duly introduced to Gerard. Arthur Kingsland was very like his brother Tom, and both were fine specimens of young colonial manhood. They could ride anything, follow spoor, hit any mark at most astonishing ranges, and were afraid of nothing. The reputation of Gerard's feats, which had already reached them, was a sure pa.s.sport to their favour, and accordingly they soon became the very best of friends.

"Heard anything more about the Zulu question, Arthur?" said Mr Kingsland during dinner to his youngest son, who had been out on horseback since daybreak.

"Only the usual lie--Cetywayo is going to sweep in and eat us all up at a minute's notice. Another yarn is that he's going to drive all the Boers out of the disputed territory."

"It's just possible there may be some disturbance there," said Mr Kingsland. "Still, Cetywayo is much too shrewd a man to declare regular war against the Transvaal."

"Well, our route lies right through that same disputed territory," said Dawes. "What do you think, Ridgeley? Like to get into a scrimmage with a Zulu _impi_?"

"Mr Ridgeley is pretty good at fighting Kafirs, I should say," put in May, slyly, before he had time to reply.

"Oh, I'm afraid I shan't hear the end of that little difference in a hurry," said Gerard, laughing ruefully. "I rather wish I had left Sobuza to fight his own battles."

"How can you say that?" said May. "Are you so utterly devoid of imagination? Why, you rescued the man twice on the same day! That means that he is to have some influence on your fortunes. You are going up into the Zulu country now. You are sure to see him again."

"Maybe only to get an a.s.segai put into him if he does," cut in Tom.

"Isn't there a proverb, that if you save a fellow's life he's bound to play you a shady trick?"

"Be quiet, you wet blanket," retorted the girl. "I foresee different things. I foresee that the Zulu will in some way or other turn up again, and that he will have an influence in Mr Ridgeley's destinies."

How true this was fated to prove it was little that either of them thought at the time.

The afternoon was spent very much as had been the morning, strolling around looking about the farm, for it was a slack time just then and there was not much doing. Towards sundown Tom Kingsland suggested they should go down to a water-hole and try for a shot at a duck, an idea which Gerard cordially endorsed, and in the sequel greatly distinguished himself, considering his want of practice with the gun, for the pair of ducks which they brought home represented one apiece. And then, in the evening, while Mr Kingsland and Dawes smoked their pipes on the _stoep_, the young people gathered round the piano, and Gerard thought he had never heard anything so entrancingly delicious in his life as May's fresh clear voice lifted up in song. Then--all too soon for him-- had come bedtime, and in the morning an early start to rejoin the waggons.

Before Gerard turned in Mr Kingsland followed him to his room for a few words.

"Well, Ridgeley, so you're going to make another start, this time as an up-country trader. You've had a few ups and downs already, it appears; and maybe there'll come a time when you'll thank your stars you have."

"I do that already, Mr Kingsland, for otherwise I should never have found myself launched on this undertaking. What a good fellow Dawes is!"