the red dust incandescent, and
renewing its old imperious aggression on the spiked bosses of the convex
shield of pines that defended Table Mountain. Thither by nine o'clock
all coolness had retreated, and the "outsides" of the up stage plunged
their hot faces in its aromatic shadows as in water.

It was the custom of the driver of the Wingdam coach to whip up his
horses and enter Angel's at that remarkable pace which the woodcuts in
the hotel bar-room represented to credulous humanity as the usual rate
of speed of that conveyance. At such times the habitual expression of
disdainful reticence and lazy official severity which he wore on the box
became intensified as the loungers gathered about the vehicle, and only
the boldest ventured to address him. It was the Hon. Judge Beeswinger,
Member of Assembly, who to-day presumed, perhaps rashly, on the strength
of his official position.

"Any political news from below, Bill?" he asked, as the latter slowly
descended from his lofty perch, without, however, any perceptible coming
down of mien or manner.

"Not much," said Bill, with deliberate gravity. "The President o' the
United States hezn't bin hisself sens you refoosed that seat in the
Cabinet. The ginral feelin' in perlitical circles is one o' regret."

Irony, even of this outrageous quality, was too common in Angel's to
excite either a smile or a frown. Bill slowly entered the bar-room
during a dry, dead silence, in which only a faint spirit of emulation
survived.

"Ye didn't bring up that agint o' Rothschild's this trip?" asked the
barkeeper, slowly, by way of vague contribution to the prevailing tone
of conversation.

"No," responded Bill, with thoughtful exactitude. "He said he couldn't
look inter that claim o' Johnson's without first consultin' the Bank o'
England."

The Mr. Johnson here alluded to being present as the faded reveller
the barkeeper had lately put out, and as the alleged claim notoriously
possessed no attractions whatever to capitalists, expectation naturally
looked to him for some response to this evident challenge. He did so
by simply stating that he would "take sugar" in his, and by walking
unsteadily toward the bar, as if accepting a festive invitation. To the
credit of Bill be it recorded that he did not attempt to correct the
mistake, but gravely touched glasses with him, and after saying "Here's
another nail in your coffin,"--a cheerful sentiment, to which "And the
hair all off your head