e peter and sending up a thickening volume of smoke, while away
behind the Winterhoek mountains rose soft and hazy against the unclouded
sky.

"Hi!--hallo, Greenoak," and a hand dropped on his shoulder from behind;
but he did not start, his nerves were in far too good training for that.
He only stopped.

"That you, Simcox? How are you?"

The man thus addressed was about Greenoak's own age, hard, wiry,
weather-beaten. A typical colonist of the downright rough-and-ready
type. Now he exclaimed:

"Well, this is a surprise. And what brings you down here?"

The other told him.

"Rum thing, isn't it," he said with a laugh, "that at my time of life I
should start out in the bear-leading line? Well, this is a particularly
nice young chap, so that the job's likely to turn out `clovery' all
round."

"So?" said Simcox. "Why not bring him out to my place. We could get up
a hunt or two, if he's fond of sport."

The very thing, decided Greenoak. The question of how and where to make
a start was solved, so he answered:

"He just is. Well then, Simcox, thanks awfully, and we'll come. When?"

"Now. To-morrow morning."

"But we've got no horses."

"I can drive you out--that is, if that young Britisher can do without
top-hats and swallow-tail suits. No room in the cart for all that sort
of thing."

"He'll have to. Why, here he comes. This is an old friend of mine,
Dick," he went on, introducing them. "He's got a farm out on the
borders of the Addo Bush, and we're going out there with him to-morrow
to do a little hunting. How's that?"

"Ripping," answered Dick, brightening up, for he had been a little
"down" after his recent farewell. "Perfectly, absolutely ripping."

"We're a bit rough and tumble out at our place, you know," said the
stock farmer, who was appraising his guest-elect. "No champagne and
cigars and all that sort of thing. Eh, Greenoak?"

The latter nodded.

"I don't expect or want luxuries, Mr Simcox," answered Dick. "Shall I
tell you what I do want?"

"What?"

"To shoot as many of your bucks and things as lean."

"You're heartily welcome to."

And Simcox laughed good-naturedly, and opined that Greenoak's
"bear-leading" would be no very trying job after all.

"He'll do," he pronounced, with an approving nod towards the young
fellow.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE TERROR OF THE ADDO.

Simcox's farm, Buffels Draai, comprised about as wild a tract of bush
country as exists, althou