in these days
of telegraphs and swift mail steamers, to make known his whereabouts,
even if not to return in person. He had not seen dim actually killed in
his conflict with Hlangani--indeed, the fact of that strange duel having
been fought with kerries, only seemed to point to the fact that no
killing was intended. That he was only stunned and disabled when
dragged away out of sight Eustace could swear, but why should that
implacable savage make such a point of having the absolute disposal of
his enemy, if it were not to execute the most deadly ferocious vengeance
upon him which lay in his power? That the wretched man had been
fastened down to be devoured alive by black ants, even as the pretended
wizard had been treated, Eustace entertained hardly any doubt--would
have entertained none, but that the witch-doctress's veiled hint had
pointed to a fate, if possible, even more darkly horrible. No, after
all this time, his unfortunate cousin could not possibly be alive. The
actual mode of his death might forever remain a mystery, but that he was
dead was as certain as anything in this world can be. Any suspicion to
the contrary he resolved to dismiss effectually from his mind.

Eanswyth would often accompany her lover during his rides about the
_veldt_ looking after the stock. She would not go with him, however,
when he was on sporting intent, she had tried it once or twice, but the
bucks had a horrid knack of screaming in the most heart-rending fashion
when sadly wounded and not killed outright, and Eustace's assurance that
this was due to the influence of fear and not of pain, entirely failed
to reconcile her to it. [A fact. The smaller species of antelope here
referred to, however badly wounded, will not utter a sound until seized
upon by man or dog, when it screams as described. The same holds good
of the English hare.] But when on more peaceful errand bent, she was
never so happy as when riding with him among the grand and romantic
scenery of their mountain home. She was a first-rate horsewoman and
equally at home in the saddle when her steed was picking his way along
some dizzy mountain path on the side of a grass slope as steep as the
roof of a house with a series of perpendicular _krantzes_ below, or when
pursuing some stony and rugged bush track where the springy _spekboem_
boughs threatened to sweep her from her seat every few yards.

"We are partners now, you know, dearest," she would say gaily, when