ed forward to some good opening for
trying their skill was notable.

But beyond an occasional bird which fled with a loud cry at the approach
of the waggon, and a little herd of springbok seen upon the edge of a
low hill quite a mile away, there was little to break the monotony of
the journey over the hot sandy waste, and every one was pretty weary
when, just at sundown, they came in sight of a low house, the abode of a
Boer who had settled there some years before, and who, with his large
family, seemed to be perfectly content, and who smiled with satisfaction
on being presented with some sweets in return for his civility in
pointing out the places where the out-spanned oxen could find an
abundance of grass and water.

Here the first experience of sleeping in a waggon was gone through, and
very comical it seemed to boys who were accustomed to the comforts of a
well-regulated home.

Dick laughed, and said that it was like sleeping in the attic, while the
servants slept in the kitchen, for the drivers and the three Zulus made
themselves snug under the waggon, Dinny joining them very unwillingly,
after a verbal encounter with Dick, who, however much he might be
wanting in bodily strength, was pretty apt with his tongue.

"Sure, Masther Dick, sir, Dinny's the last boy in the world to grumble;
but I'm a good Christian, and the blacks are as haythen as can be."

"Well, Dinny, and what of that?"

"Why, ye see, Masther Dick, I'm a white man, and they are all blacks;
and," he added with a grin, "I shouldn't like to catch the complaint."

"What complaint, Dinny?"

"Why, sure, sir, it would be very painful to you and Masther Jack there,
and the masther himself, if you found poor Dinny get up some fine
morning as black as a crow."

"Get along with you," cried Jack.

"Oh, be easy, Masther Jack, dear," cried Dinny; "and how would you like
to slape under a waggon wid five sacks of smoking and living coals like
them Zulus and Kaffirs is?"

"I wouldn't mind," replied Jack. "We are on a hunting expedition, and
we must take things in the rough."

"Sure an' it is rough indade," grumbled Dinny. "I'm thinking I'd rather
go sthraight home to my poor owld mother's cabin, and slape there dacent
like, wid nothing worse in it than the poor owld pig."

CHAPTER SIX.

A FALSE ALARM.

Mr Rogers had felt a little hesitation in giving the fierce-looking
Zulu permission to make one of the party, but as they journeyed on
across