son had been drowned in trying to ford
the river and come to meet him.

The boy's spirits sank lower and lower as he checked his horse's pace to
a canter, hushing the beat of its feet upon the soft sand as he rode on,
seeing no one stirring, and at last, in the deepest despair, feeling as
if he dare go no farther. But just at that moment a low crooning sound
fell upon his ear, and the reaction was so sudden and so great that Dyke
nearly shouted aloud as he pressed on to the door, feeling now that he
had been letting his imagination run riot, and that there was nothing
whatever the matter. In fact, that was his brother's tall gaunt horse
grazing where it had been hidden from his sight by one of the low,
shed-like buildings.

"What a lot of stuff one can fancy!" said Dyke to himself. "Why, it's
early yet, and poor old Joe hasn't got up. I'll give him such a
rouser."

The next minute he had pulled up, thrown his rein over the cob's head,
as he dismounted, and ran to the open doorway from whence came the
crooning sound.

"Morning, Tant," he cried to the woman, who sat crouched together on the
floor.

Then as his eyes caught sight of the pallet in the corner of the room,
he shouted:

"Joe, old man, what is it? Are you ill?"

"No makee noisy," cried the woman; "shoo, shoo, shoo. Baas Joe go die."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

A TEST OF MANHOOD.

Dyke uttered a cry of horror as he ran to the bedside and sank upon his
knees, gazing wildly in his brother's dark, thin face, with its wild
eyes, in which was no sign of recognition, though Emson kept on
muttering in a low voice.

"Joe--Joe, old fellow, don't you know me?" There was no reply, and in
his agony of spirit Dyke caught his burning, dry hand, and pressed it.

"Speak to me!" he cried. "How long have you been ill? What is it, Joe?
Tell me. What am I to do?"

No answer; but the muttering went on, and Dyke turned to the Kaffir
woman. "How long has he been ill?"

"Baas Joe go die," said the woman, nodding her head.

"No, no; he will be better soon. When was he taken ill?"

"Baas Joe go die," said the woman with horrible persistence. "No eat--
no drink--no sleep. Go die."

"Go away!" cried Dyke wildly. "You are as bad as one of those horrible
birds. Get out!"

The woman smiled, for she did not understand a word. The gesture of
pointing to the door was sufficient, and she went out, leaving the
brothers alone.

"Joe!" cried Dyke wildly. "Can'