dn't thought of it in that light. Well, I should
think the magistrate will let him have the `cat' and plenty of it," she
added, vindictively.

"No, he won't. I've concluded to let the poor devil off. I'll deduct
the value from his wages--it's quite illegal of course, but far more
satisfactory to both parties, in that it saves trouble all round--and
the crack on the head he got can balance the rest of the account."

The girl looked at him, a whole world of admiring love shining in her
eyes. Then she shook her head.

"That's quite wrong. You're spoiling the people, you know. In fact
you're putting quite a premium on `slaag-ing.' But you will do
everything your own way and different to other people. Well, it
wouldn't be you if you didn't."

"Which is an extenuating circumstance, I suppose, sweetheart," he
answered, dropping a hand on to hers. "And now, if we've done, I move
that we go and continue this debate upon the stoep."

CHAPTER THREE.

"LIGHT THROUGH THE GLOOM..."

We have said that in purchasing Seven Kloofs, as his farm was named,
Wyvern had been largely moved by a sense of its beautiful site, and it
certainly had that redeeming feature. Now as these two sat there on the
stoep, a fair and lovely panorama lay spread forth before them. The
house was built on the slope of a hill, and, falling away in front, lay
miles and miles of undulating veldt, now of a young and tender green--
for the season had been a good one--alternating with darker patches of
bush, and the lighter green, still, of the feathery mimosa. While
beyond, walling in the river valley at some miles distant, ran a lofty
ridge, far as the eye could see, stern with stately cliffs, alternating
with the ruggedness of rock and boulder which crowned the height.
Behind the homestead a network of dark and bushy kloofs interseamed the
hills on that side; which, if a very Alsatia for mischievous wild
animals, furnished a compensating element in affording sport to the
owner--and his neighbours--in their periodical destruction.

Nor were the voices of Nature stilled in the sensuous glory of the
unclouded sunlight. The strange call of strange birds echoed
unceasingly, blending with the cheery whistle of the familiar spreeuw,
ubiquitous in his sheeny flash from bough to bough, and the far-off,
melodious call of the hoepoe, in the dusky recesses of bushy kloofs.
Dove notes, too, in ceaseless cooing, and the shrill, noisy crow of
cock-koorha