e desert--so may be
considered the waggon in the southern part of the dark continent. It
may be likened indeed to a huge, deeply laden merchantman, steadily
making her way amid the rolling waves of the ocean.

Some time had passed, not reckoned by months only, but by years, since
the events narrated in the previous chapters occurred, when one of those
lumbering vehicles, dragged by a span of fourteen sturdy oxen, was
rolling along through the eastern part of Natal towards the Zulu border.

A short distance ahead rode our old friend Hendricks the hunter,
scarcely changed since we first knew him, except that his beard might
have become slightly more grizzled, and that here and there a wrinkle
had deepened on his open countenance. Occasionally a shade of
melancholy passed over it, as he spoke to a companion who rode at his
side on a light, active little horse.

"It was His will who rules all things, Lionel, to take her; but I would
rather you had remained some time longer under her fostering care,
instead of commencing the rough life you will have to lead with me. But
she has done you justice. You are better fitted morally and physically
for what you may have to go through, than I might have ventured to hope.
You will be of great service to me, as I can rely on you in a way I
cannot even on Umgolo, or certainly on the rest of our Kaffir and
Hottentot servants."

"Thank you, uncle, for your good opinion of me," answered Lionel, who
had learnt to call his kind protectress, Mrs Jansen, by the name of
aunt, and very naturally in consequence addressed her brother, the
hunter, as uncle. "I will do my best to show my gratitude to you, and
to Aunt Susannah for all her kindness to me. Though I shall never see
her again, I cannot help fancying that she will know what I am about.
It was a sad day when she was taken from us so suddenly, and I thought I
should have broken my heart if you had not arrived. I was so happy with
her, that I never wished to be away, though I used to like going out
with Mangaleesu, and shooting with the little fowling-piece you gave me,
as long as he lived in the neighbourhood. Did you know that a short
time ago he and his wife disappeared without saying where they were
going? When I last went to see them, what was my dismay to find their
hut burnt to the ground! At first I was afraid that they had been
murdered; but Denis Maloney, who accompanied me the next morning, and I
could discover no rem