rnhill.

"Offended? No. But--er--"

"Well, I shall be if you refuse to do me this favour, so let's have no
more _indaba_ on the subject," rejoined Thornhill, shortly.

The other gave way. He saw no alternative, for the last thing in the
world he desired was to offend Edala's father. The latter's next words
made the situation easier.

"Hope we shall see you again soon. Remember you'll always find a real
welcome here at any time, so don't stand on ceremony. Good-bye."

The younger man echoed the word heartily as he rode away. And then
something struck him as funny. He was accustomed to issuing orders to
other people, and now the positions were reversed. He had been dictated
to, and that by no official superior but by a stranger of a few hours'
acquaintance, and he had meekly done as he was told. Yes, it was funny.

The two stood looking after him as he disappeared down the bush path.
Then the girl said:

"Father, what have you done? You've given away Ratels--yes, given him
away. And you've often said you wouldn't part with him for five times
his real value."

"Yes. But I've never said I wouldn't part with him for fifty thousand
times--for fifty million times his real value."

He dropped a hand upon her shoulder--that was all--then turned abruptly
and went inside. The girl standing there alone gazed forth upon the
tossing splendours of the sunlit wilderness, but actually seeing nothing
of them, for her eyes were dim and moist. A struggle was going on
within her. Then the lips, which had begun to tremble, hardened into
firm compression. The struggle was over--unfortunately.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE STRANGER FROM ZULULAND.

At the time we make his acquaintance Michael Thornhill did not take his
stock-farming seriously, but rather as a pastime. This he could afford
to do, as from one source or another he had enough to last him
comfortably for the rest of his life, and also to start his remaining
son in anything sound and likely to bear good results.

His operations, then, in that line just paid their way, but very little
more--a result in nowise due to any lack of capacity on his part, for he
had gone through the mill himself in earlier life and was as thoroughly
at home in all pertaining to stock-raising as the most strenuous and
practical farmers in the colony. But he had a hobby, and it was a good
one, and that was--literature.

Not the manufacture of it--oh no--or we might have felt bou