way across country.
All that forest part is splendid, but rough."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes, except when I got a native as guide for what looked like some of
the most difficult parts."

Verna's pretty lips emitted a whistle, as she looked at him in
astonishment.

"You did rather a risky thing," she said. "The people down there are
none too well affected, and it's hardly safe in these days for a
solitary white man in some parts of the country. And the Zulus are not
what they used to be. But how did you manage about talking?"

"Oh, I had picked up an ordinary word or two, and the potent sign of a
half-crown piece did the rest. It was quite interesting as an
experience, really."

Verna still looked at him astonished; then she remembered he had said
something about South America; still, his undertaking was at that time,
as she had said, a risky thing. He, remembering one experience, at any
rate, thought she was very likely right.

"Well, you mustn't take any risks when you are with us," she said.

"Why? Are the people your way disaffected, too?"

"It isn't so much that, but you might get lost wandering about by
yourself. The forest country is flatter, and there are no landmarks, at
any rate, that would be of any use to a stranger."

"Oh, I'm not much afraid of that," he answered lightly. They had
resumed their walk, which lay back through the forest by a different
way, chatting freely about anything and everything, as if they had known
each other for years, at least so Denham looked upon it. He had had a
most delightful walk, he told her, and she said she was glad. What he
did not tell her was that he had found in her personality something so
alluring, in her propinquity something so magnetic that it seemed ages
ago when he had never known her. And now he was due to spend an
indefinite time in a wild and unfrequented place, with herself and her
father as sole companions. Assuredly the situation was charged with
potentialities, but from such Alaric Denham, recognising, did not
shrink.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two figures were walking a little way in front of them as they drew near
the hotel garden gate.

"Why, who can that be with father?" said Verna. Then, as they got a
little nearer, "Why, if it isn't Harry Stride!"

"Who's he?"

"A prospector. He's a nice boy. A little while ago he got into a
difference of opinion with some of our people a