ering leisurely towards the
house.

"Who is that, Miss Croft?" he asked.

"It is a man I don't like," she said with a little stamp of her foot.
"His name is Frank Muller, and he is half a Boer and half an Englishman.
He is very rich, and very clever, and owns all the land round this
place, so uncle has to be civil to him, though he does not like him
either. I wonder what he wants now."

On came the horse, and John thought that its rider was going to pass
without seeing them, when suddenly the movement of Bessie's dress
between the _naatche_ trees caught his eye, and he pulled up and looked
round. He was a large and exceedingly handsome man, apparently about
forty years old, with clear-cut features, cold, light-blue eyes, and a
remarkable golden beard that hung down over his chest. For a Boer he
was rather smartly dressed in English-made tweed clothes, and tall
riding-boots.

"Ah, Miss Bessie," he called out in English, "there you are, with your
pretty arms all bare. I'm in luck to be just in time to see them. Shall
I come and help you to wash the feathers? Only say the word, now----"

Just then he caught sight of John Niel, checked himself, and added:

"I have come to look for a black ox, branded with a heart and a 'W'
inside of the heart. Do you know if your uncle has seen it on the place
anywhere?"

"No, _Meinheer_ Muller," replied Bessie, coldly, "but he is down there,"
pointing at a kraal on the plain some half-mile away, "if you want to go
and ask about it."

"_Mr._ Muller," said he, by way of correction, and with a curious
contraction of the brow. "'_Meinheer_' is very well for the Boers, but
we are all Englishmen now. Well, the ox can wait. With your permission,
I'll stop here till _Oom_ Croft (Uncle Croft) comes back," and, without
further ado, he jumped off his horse and, slipping the reins over its
head as an indication to it to stand still, advanced towards Bessie with
an outstretched hand. As he came the young lady plunged both her arms
up to the elbow in the bath, and it struck John, who was observing the
scene closely, that she did this in order to avoid the necessity of
shaking hands with her stalwart visitor.

"Sorry my hands are wet," she said, giving him a cold little nod. "Let
me introduce you, Mr. (with emphasis) Frank Muller--Captain Niel--who
has come to help my uncle with the place."

John stretched out his hand and Muller shook it.

"Captain," he said interrogatively--"a ship captai