mals must needs sustain their world-wide reputation for sagacity by
doing something, though quite unnecessary--or possibly to vary the
monotony of a wet and very dismal day. Anyhow they growled.

"You wanted to know about this new and distant relative," said
Thornhill, coming back into the room. "Well, I can't tell you anything
about her personally, because, as she says, she was too much of a kid to
remember me, and I, for my part, just remember her as an ordinary kid,
usually smeared with jam or some other sticky form of nastiness. Just
that and nothing more."

"But this mother she talks about--who was she?" went on Edala.

"Poor Mary Carden. Oh, we got rather friendly. She was a bit older
than me though. I had something to do with the settling up of her
affairs when she was left a widow--not that there was much to settle up,
poor thing. By the bye, and yet this girl writes in rather an
independent way, and dates from the Royal at Durban. Well, you know,
hotels in this country aren't cheap, and the Royal isn't one of the
cheapest by any means, although it's good. They may have had a windfall
since I knew them; probably have, since she seems to be out here for
fun."

"How old would she be, father?"

"Let me think now. Let me think back. She must be some years older
than you, child. But it'll be a good thing for you to have a companion
for a time, who isn't an old fogey. Of course we are both talking round
our hats, as neither of us have the ghost of a notion what she's like,
and won't have till we see her."

"Well, we'll chance it," said Edala.

"That's the best way. And now I think I'll get on a horse and take a
turn round. Old Patolo may be letting his cattle stray in this mist."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Manamandhla the Zulu strode over the sopping veldt quite indifferent to
the rain which beat down upon his bare head, and strove to permeate the
thick folds of his green blanket, and while he walked he was thinking
out a plan.

The subject of his thoughts was not tragical, not even weighty except as
regarded his own immediate wants. He was tired of goat, he wanted beef
and plenty of it. How should he get it? He thought he knew.

He could not expect Thornhill to kill a full grown beast, or any kind,
even for him. But beef he hankered for, and have it he must. So now he
held straight on over the veldt to where he knew he should find the
ca