ick hair of a raven
blackness. Catching sight of the great Umslopogaas with his gleaming axe
and of his savage-looking bodyguard, she uttered an exclamation and not
unnaturally turned to fly.

"It's all right," I sang out, emerging from behind the oxen, and in
English, though before the words had left my lips I reflected that there
was not the slightest reason to suppose that she would understand them.
Probably she was Dutch, or Portuguese, although by some instinct I had
addressed her in English.

To my surprise she answered me in the same tongue, spoken, it is true,
with a peculiar accent which I could not place, as it was neither Scotch
nor Irish.

"Thank you," she said. "I, sir, was frightened. Your friends look----"
Here she stumbled for a word, then added, "terrocious."

I laughed at this composite adjective and answered,

"Well, so they are in a way, though they will not harm you or me. But,
young lady, tell me, can we outspan here? Perhaps your husband----"

"I have no husband, I have only a father, sir," and she sighed.

"Well, then, could I speak to your father? My name is Allan Quatermain
and I am making a journey of exploration, to find out about the country
beyond, you know."

"Yes, I will go to wake him. He is asleep. Everyone sleeps here at
midday--except me," she said with another sigh.

"Why do you not follow their example?" I asked jocosely, for this young
woman puzzled me and I wanted to find out about her.

"Because I sleep little, sir, who think too much. There will be plenty
of time to sleep soon for all of us, will there not?"

I stared at her and inquired her name, because I did not know what else
to say.

"My name is Inez Robertson," she answered. "I will go to wake my father.
Meanwhile please unyoke your oxen. They can feed with the others; they
look as though they wanted rest, poor things." Then she turned and went
into the house.

"Inez Robertson," I said to myself, "that's a queer combination. English
father and Portuguese mother, I suppose. But what can an Englishman be
doing in a place like this? If it had been a trek-Boer I should not have
been surprised." Then I began to give directions about out-spanning.

We had just got the oxen out of the yokes, when a big, raw-boned,
red-bearded, blue-eyed, roughly-clad man of about fifty years of age
appeared from the house, yawning. I threw my eye over him as he advanced
with a peculiar rolling gait, and formed certain conclusions