dless morning
air, before the sun rays developed into an oppressive steaminess, would
do her good. Gandela at large had not awakened early. There had been a
good deal of late carousing among the rougher spirits there gathered
together for the occasion, and a good deal of house-to-house visitation,
also late, on the part of the more refined. So Gandela at large slept
late proportionately.

The Fullertons' house was on the very outskirts of the township, and she
stepped forth straight on to the open veldt. The dew lay, sparkling and
silvery, upon the green mimosa fronds, and made a diamond carpet of the
parched burnt-up grass upon which her steps left footprints. How
beautiful was the early morning in this fresh open land. The call and
twitter of birds made strange unknown melody as she passed on her way,
leaving the shining zinc roofs of the straggling township, turning her
face toward the free open country. There lay the race-course, away on
her left, and her face was set toward the dark bushy ridge of Ehlatini.

Two `go-away' birds sped before her, uttering their cat-like call, as,
with crest perkily erect and flicking their tails, they danced from
frond to frond. How cool the inviting depths of that bush line looked,
billowing down the slope of the hill, challenging exploration of their
bosky recesses.

Clare was in splendid physical form, and walked with a straight willowy
swing from the hips, rejoicing in the sheer physical exercise of her
youth and strength. She looked up at the ridge above her, then back at
the scattered township behind. To gain the summit would mean a fine
view, also taking in the far, unknown stretch of country beyond. She
had never wandered this way before, and it would be a novelty and
something to expatiate upon to those lazy people whom she had left
behind in a state of prolonged slumber. Slumber! and on such a morning.

The morning air blew balmy and warm, straight down from the Zambesi and
beyond; straight down from the heart of the great mysterious continent.
Later on it would be hot, oppressive. And in the shade of the mimosa,
and wild fig, and mahobo-hobo, birds piped and called to each other.

Clare struck into a narrow path, which wound up, a mere cattle-track,
through the thickness of the bush. It was delightful this roaming about
a wild land alone. Soon, with no great effort or tax upon her powers of
wind and limb, she had gained the summit of the ridge.

And th