River no more ere his sailing from Southampton,
nor did he press the curate to sail with him. The latter wrote
him a very dubious letter. He would make no promises about work
in Africa now. Hood gathered that Perpetua was relenting.

The explorer sailed with him, to his joy, instead of the curate.
They went up from Capetown in continuing amity together. At last
they parted far upcountry. Hood went on his lonely way, not
without some retrospects and some doubts as to his decision.

At a roadside station a well-tried comrade came to greet him.
This friend had married last year, and his wife was donkey-riding
and foot-faring with him. They were but just back from many miles
in very wild country. Seven carriers were with them.

'Heavy loads!' said Hood, shaking his head. 'So you carry chairs
and a table into the Veld?'

'Home comforts,' growled his fellow-missionary. 'Why not be
comfortable? And why, too, didn't you bring a wife back? Some one
said.'

Hood smiled, and the missionary's wife smiled back at him. 'He's
better as he is, dear,' said she to her grunting husband. 'He's a
foot-slogging free-lance. We're the household heavy cavalry. He's
different.'

'Wait and see if he remains so,' rejoined her husband solemnly.
Then the train screamed and went off.

Soon Hood was landing at his own rail-head and receiving the
greetings of many brown people. They seemed glad to see him as he
straggled back so forlornly to them up the platform, and out of
the station. His holiday was done.

But he was soon forlorn no longer. They had so many delights and
anxieties to share with him his traveling comrades. Soon they
were striding away far up the remembered road together. They were
through the drift. How low it was now in this droughty time. Then
they wound along the valley. Hood peered curiously among the
ruddy-leaved bushes as they came round the shoulder of a hill.
Was the silent teamster still outspanned there? No, he was not
there to make them welcome, or to sleep away the tyranny of their
presence. He had fled their 4 greetings, fled their speech and
smiles.' Never mind. If the road was lonely, Spring was in the
land. How the trees and the bushes glowed! 'Surely no man ever in
a land of exile found more of a warmth of welcome home!' he
thought to himself.

It was on Christmas Day (last Christmas Day) that, Hood tells me,
a momentous letter came to hand. It was from Berkshire, and he
did not read it till the time cam