taggered, staggered
again, and then, with a crash that shook the earth, fell truly dead. In
that terrible fall Joe Granton was hurled upon his head, and, as his
comrades rode anxiously up, lay there apparently as void of life as his
gigantic quarry. In his hand he still clutched desperately the tail
upon which he had so firmly set his mind.

From the shock of that fall Joe Granton sustained heavy concussion of
the brain, and had to be carried with much care and difficulty back to
Tapinyani's town. Hume Wheler, with infinite solicitude and care,
superintended this operation, while Lane stayed out another two days in
the veldt and shot three giraffe for the chief and his people. Hume
Wheler himself had the satisfaction of bringing down his first and a
good many more "camels" at a subsequent period.

A fortnight's careful nursing at Tapinyani's restored Joe Granton to
something like his normal health. In due time the expedition returned,
after a tedious and even dangerous trek, to Vryburg.

Whether it was, in truth, the coveted giraffe's tail that settled the
business; whether it was the dangerous accident Joe had suffered in her
behalf; or whether Kate Manning had not for some time before had a
tender corner in her heart for Joe Granton, is scarcely of consequence.
Certain it is that, not long after the presentation of the precious
trophy, a question that Joe put to Kate was answered in a way that made
him extravagantly happy.

The members of the Tapinyani syndicate sold their concession very well
during a boom in the South African market, and Joe Granton's share
enabled him to set up cattle ranching in handsome fashion. He and his
wife live very happily on a large farm given to them as a portion by Mr
Manning. Here they have made a very charming home of their own. The
great black switch tail of the bull giraffe hangs on the dining-room
wall, plain evidence of the curious romance in which it had been
involved.

Hume Wheler, who, with Tom Lane, occasionally drops in upon them during
his periodical trips from the interior, often chaffs his old friends
upon that celebrated trophy. "Ah! Mrs Joe," he says, on one of these
occasions, as he takes one of her two youngsters on his knee and looks
up at the tail. "Your husband captured you by a magnificent accident.
There never was a bigger fluke in this world than when the old fraud
knocked over that big `camel.'"

CHAPTER NINE.

VROUW VAN VUUREN'S FRENCHMAN