much at your
service."

The almost deferential tone of this apology completely availed to salve
Harry Maitland's wounded dignity, and he began to see in his whilom foe,
but now prospective host, an uncommonly sensible fellow, shrewd enough
to appreciate to a hair his own sense of self-importance. The natives,
with many surprised ejaculations over this unlooked-for turn events had
taken, dispersed by twos and threes, not, however, before Anstey had
despatched a couple of them to hunt up the runaway steed.

"Come on up to the house," he went on. "I dare say you've learnt not to
expect much by this time--not much in the way of comfort, that is. When
did you land?"

"Only a few days ago," answered Gerard. "We came straight on here at
once. Travelled up to Maritzburg in a waggon, chartered a horse apiece,
and came out to find you."

"Travelled up in a waggon, did you say? Whose waggon?"

"John Dawes's. A rattling good chap. Do you know him?"

"Used to. But, between you and me, Gerard, he's not really much of a
chap. Did he--er--seem to know me?"

The covert anxiety of the tone brought back to Gerard's mind the queer
expression which the mention of his relative had called up to the
transport-rider's face. Still it was possible that the two men had but
quarrelled. At the same time, do what he would he could not quite
overcome a growing aversion to Anstey. This was hardly promising for
their future relationship.

"This is my crib," said Anstey, as they approached the house. "The
store's at the back. We'll go round and look at it presently. Come in;
come in."

The house was a rough, square, one-storeyed building, roofed over with
corrugated iron. A low _stoep_ ran round the front of it, and the door
opened into the sitting-room direct, without the intervention of any
entrance hall. The floor was of hard clay covered with matting, and the
furniture of the very plainest. Accommodation seemed strictly limited,
for besides the room which did duty as the proprietor's bedroom there
was only one other, and it was half full of lumber of every description.
The whole of the back part of the house was used for the trading store,
and from this came a foetid and pungent whiff, mingled with the deep
bass hum of native voices.

While they dined--on a baked shoulder of mutton, with pumpkin and sweet
potatoes--Anstey questioned his young guests somewhat profusely as to
their plans and prospects. Gerard, whose ri