if I live. The `Ruined Cities of Zulu Land' exist, and the dangers we
have gone through have but opened out the way. Noti's life lost on the
banks of the Golden River, Luji's sacrificed to save ours on the plains
of Manica, must not have been given in vain."

A deep silence ensued as Isabel, leaning on her husband's arm, looked
pensively over the sea. The sound of the steam-whistle was heard,
warning the loiterers on the beach that their time was short.

"I go from this to depose on oath as to our discoveries," continued the
enthusiastic speaker. "I am sure of a welcome at Chantilly, and that
shall be my starting point."

"Well, well," returned Hughes, sorrowfully, "you won't forget the
presents for Masheesh. How he wanted to come with us, poor fellow."

"There goes a gun from the `Saxon,' sir," said the coxswain in charge of
the boat, as the report of a light piece came to their ears, and a wisp
of white smoke rose curling over the point.

"Good-bye, Wyzinski, good-bye," said Hughes, as he grasped the other's
hand. "May God bless you! And remember, while we have a home it's
yours. You must eventually tire of your wanderings."

"Shall I?" returned the other, as a slight smile curled his lip, though
the unbidden tears were standing in his eyes, kept back only by his iron
will "Hark my words: you will tire first of a life of inaction." And
the missionary touched Isabel's cheek with his lips as he handed her
into the boat.

One more grasp of the hand as the two men stood looking into each
other's eyes; one more deep "good-bye!" and Hughes sat by her side.

"Give way, my lads! give way, with a will!" exclaimed the coxswain, as
the sound of a second gun came booming over the point.

"You will tire of the water-melons, Hughes," shouted the missionary, as
the boat shot away from land, "and when you do so, think of the Ruined
Cities of Zulu Land, and your old comrade working alone."

A wave of the hand came back for all reply, as Hughes passed his arm
round Isabel's slender waist.

With the calm serenity which so characterised the man, the missionary
turned, and, instead of remaining to watch the boat, walked firmly
though slowly away, never once faltering. The tears were still standing
in his eyes, but no one marked them, as he moved with his firm springy
step through the busy streets of Durban. The smoke of the mail steamer
"Saxon" was yet to be seen, a black inky spot on the horizon, as he took
his w