solved they should not go to--unless Hazel
particularly wanted to, and somehow he did not think she would--and that
was the township. It was full of his own sex, and he wanted the girl
all to himself, to-day at any rate. He had a lively recollection of the
Christmas gathering which he had not enjoyed, for the reason that then
he never could get her all to himself. He had voted them a set of
unmitigated bores, and, rare thing indeed with him, had become almost
irritable. Yet if ever any one was what is known as a "man's man," that
was Dick Selmes. Given the absence of Hazel on that festive occasion,
he would have voted them all thundering good fellows. But--
circumstances alter cases.

Since the understanding of that morning, and the compact entered into
between them, a more restful feeling had come over these two; a feeling
as though they belonged to each other; and though some patience was
needed, at any rate there was an end to uncertainty.

"We might go round by old Umjuza's kraal and Sampson's store," suggested
Dick, "unless you would like to look anybody up. There are the Paynes,
for instance."

"No; I don't want to see any one. We'll keep to the veldt."

"Them's my sentiments," cried Dick, gaily, emphasising the said gaiety
by a swish of his whip that caused his steed to prance and snort. His
wounded arm was quite healed by now. "What a difference there is about
the veldt here; no jolly old koorhaans crowing and squawking--or a buck
every now and then jumping up under your feet, not even an odd pair of
blue cranes. Only those silly old bromvogels, and they wouldn't be
there either, but that even John Kafir won't eat _them_."

A pair of the great black hornbills were strutting among the sparse
mimosa on the opposite slope, emitting their deep, booming grunt. But
although deficient in game, the veldt was fair and pleasant to the eye,
with its roll of sunlit plain and round-topped hills, and if the crowing
of koorhaans or the grating cackle of the wild guinea-fowl were wanting,
the cooing of doves, and the triple call of the hoepoe from the
bush-grown kloofs made soft music on the slumbrous calm.

"You'll never stand English life after this, Dick."

"Oh yes. We can always come out here again for change. There's more
variety of sport in England; in fact, there's something going all the
year round. What do you think, dear? The dad talks about putting me up
for Parliament soon."

"A very sensibl