was so horridly
sarcastic.

But whoever Musgrave was or was not, the fact remained that he went down
the side of the _Siberian_ that afternoon, glad to take up the
subordinate post in the Cape Government service, which a bit of lucky
interest had procured for him; content to start afresh at his time of
life in a far-away, up-country township, upon a not extravagant salary.

CHAPTER TWO.

THE POST-CART TRAVELLERS.

Drip, drip, drip, in one unbroken downpour falls the rain. Scuds of
floating wrack are wreathing the tree-tops and boulders higher up the
bush-grown slopes, and the grey, opaque, lowering sky renders the
desolate waste yet more gloomy and forbidding. Floundering, splashing,
stumbling, even the team of four serviceable nags appears to experience
some difficulty in drawing its load, a two-wheeled Cape cart to wit,
crammed pretty nearly to the full measure of its carrying capacity; for
the whole well of the cart is filled up. Even the seats cannot be
turned to their original purpose, for they too are loaded up with sacks;
and upon this irregular pile are three human beings, who are under the
necessity of holding on as best they may, insecurely perched upon a sort
of dome of rough and uneven surface. Some _reims_, or rawhide thongs,
have been lashed across the top of this perch for them to hold on to, a
concession to human weakness for which they are expected to feel
jubilantly grateful; for they are only passengers, and--as those who
have gone through the experience can certify, to their cost--the
comfort, well-being, and safety of mere passengers are held by every
self-respecting colonial post contractor in the profoundest contempt.
For the vehicle is a post-cart, and the sacks upon which a limited
number of Her Majesty's lieges are graciously permitted to travel--if
haply they can hold on--contain Her Majesty's mails.

Some of the oft-detailed horrors of post-cart travelling seem to have
fallen to the lot of the occupants of this one. Apart from the
insecurity of their perch already mentioned, they are shelterless, and
it has been raining hard and unintermittently for about seven hours.
Swathed in theoretical waterproofs--for no waterproof displays a
practical side when put to such a test--they grovel upon the lumpy and
uneven surface of the sacks, jolted, shaken, bruised, the beat of the
rain in their faces, varied from time to time by a copious splash of
rich, red liquid mud--lately dust--thro