not
servants enough. Yet it may be that I can do with another for hunting
purposes. I will think about it. Here!"--and he handed him a stick of
tobacco.

"You are my father, _Nkose_," replied the Matabele, holding forth his
joined hands to receive it. Then he stepped back.

"Who is he, and what does he want, Hilary?" said Hermia, who had hardly
understood a word of this colloquy; and the same held good of Spence.

"Oh, he's a chap we had at Bulawayo. Wants to be taken on here. I
think I'll take him."

"I don't much like the look of him," pursued Hermia, doubtfully.

"I should hang him on sight, if I were the jury empanelled to try him,"
declared Spence.

But for all the notice he took of them, Blachland might as well not have
heard these remarks, for he busied himself giving directions to his
"boys," relating to the preparation of the lion's skin, and a dozen
other matters. Leaving him to this, the other two strolled back to the
house.

"I'm going home directly, Hermia," said Spence, with a bitter emphasis
on the word "home." "I rather think I'm the third who constitutes a
crowd."

"How can you talk like that, after--" And she broke off suddenly.

"Still, I think I'll go, darling. But--are you really going away--to
Salisbury?"

"No. But you've got too speaking a face, Justin dear. Why on earth did
you look so dismal and blank when he said that?"

"Because I couldn't help it, I suppose."

"But you've got to help it. See here now, Justin, I can't keep you in
leading-strings. You are such a great baby, you have no control over
yourself. You're quite big enough, and--"

"Ugly enough? Yes, go on."

"No, the other thing--only I'm spoiling you too much, and making you
abominably conceited. Now come in, and give me just one little kiss
before you start, and then I think you really had better go."

"Promise me you won't go away without letting me know," he urged, when
the above-named process--which, by the way, was not of such very
diminutive proportions as she had suggested--had been completed.
Outside, Blachland's voice directing the native servants was plainly
audible.

"Yes, I promise. Now, go and say good-bye, and get your horse. No, not
`one more.' Do be a little prudent."

"Eh? Want to saddle up, Spence?" said Blachland, as Justin went over to
where he was occupied. "All right. I say, though, excuse me; I really
am rather busy. Come along, and we'll get out your horse. Have a