put in bad Dutch, was not
pleasant,

"Who gave you leave to shoot on our land?"

"I did not know that any leave was required; it is not customary
in these parts," I answered politely in English. "Moreover, this
buck was wounded miles away."

"Oh!" he exclaimed in the same tongue, "that makes a difference,
though I expect it was still on our land, for we have a lot; it
is cheap about here." Then after studying a little, he added
apologetically, "You mustn't think me strange, but the fact is my
daughter hates things to be killed near the house, which is why
there's so much game about."

"Then pray make her our apologies," said Anscombe, "and say that
it shall not happen again."

He stroked his long beard and looked at us, for by now he had
dismounted, then said--

"Might I ask you gentlemen your names?"

"Certainly," I replied. "I am Allan Quatermain and my friend is
the Hon. Maurice Anscombe."

He started and said--

"Of Allan Quatermain of course I have heard. The natives told me
that you were trekking to those parts; and if you, sir, are one
of Lord Mountford's sons, oddly enough I think I must have known
your father in my youth. Indeed I served with him in the
Guards."

"How very strange," said Anscombe. "He's dead now and my brother
is Lord Mountford. Do you like life here better than that in the
Guards? I am sure I should."

"Both of them have their advantages," he answered evasively, "of
which, if, as I think, you are also a soldier, you can judge for
yourself. But won't you come up to the house? My daughter Heda
is away, and my partner Mr. Rodd" (as he mentioned this name I
saw a blue vein, which showed above his cheek bone, swell as
though under pressure of some secret emotion) "is a retiring sort
of a man--indeed some might think him sulky until they came to
know him. Still, we can make you comfortable and even give you a
decent bottle of wine."

"No, thank you very much," I answered, "we must get back to the
wagon or our servants will think that we have come to grief.
Perhaps you will accept the wildebeeste if it is of any use to
you."

"Very well," he said in a voice that suggested regret struggling
with relief. To the buck he made no allusion, perhaps because he
considered that it was already his own property. "Do you know
your way? I believe your wagon is camped out there to the east
by what we call the Granite stream. If you follow this Kaffir
path," and he pointed to a