r Druro. The widow was showing herself to be no saint under
affliction. Not here the bright companion on a weary road who is
better than silken tents and horse-litters!

They started down the path to Burral's, Druro and Mrs. Hading ahead.
Gay and Tryon following at a distance too short not to hear the widow's
voice still engaged in acrid comment.

"What a fuss to make about nothing!" said Gay, a trifle disdainfully.
"I'm afraid Africa won't suit her for long, if that's how she takes
incidents of every-day life."

"I don't think she'll suit Africa," rejoined Tryon savagely. "Still,
I'm not denying that I am a first-class fool to have trusted that
infernal nigger. I could kick myself."

"Kick the nigger instead, tomorrow," laughed Gay, adding in the
Rhodesian spirit, "what does it matter, anyway?"

The path now became narrower and overhung with wandering branches and
creepers. The brambles seemed to have a special penchant for Mrs.
Hading's flying ends of tulle and lace, and she spent most of her time
disengaging herself while Druro went ahead, pushing branches out of the
way. Poor Marice! Her feet ached in their high-heeled shoes, and her
French toilette was created for a salon and not out-of-door walking.
Truly, she was no veld-woman. What came as a matter of course to Gay
was a tragedy to her.

"How stupid! How utterly imbecile!" she muttered bitterly. "A hateful
country--and idiots of men!"

"Cheer up!" said Druro, with an equability he did not feel. Nothing
bored him more than bad temper. "We'll soon be dead--I mean, we'll
soon be at Burral's."

"I find your cheerfulness slightly brutal," she remarked cuttingly,
"and the thought of Burral's does not fill me with any delight."

"I'm sorry," he began, but his apology and the stillness of the night
were both destroyed by a sudden loud crack of a rifle.

"By Jove! Who's that, I wonder?" exclaimed Druro. "There's nothing
much to shoot about here." Then, to Mrs. Hading, "Stand still a
minute--will you?--while I reconnoitre." He went a few yards ahead and
gave a halloo. They all stood still, listening, until the call was
returned in a man's voice from somewhere not far off. At the same
time, a soft cracking of bushes was heard near at hand.

"It must be Burral out after a buck!" called out Tryon. He and Gay
were still some way behind. Marice half-way between them, and Druro
was apparently trying to disentangle her flickering, fluttering
chi