he bank of a small watercourse, was a
large bit of enclosed and cultivated land, and beside this a fruit
orchard.

"I'm afraid it's a little late for fruit," said Tom Kingsland, as they
strolled through the latter. "There are still a few peaches left,
though, and any amount of figs."

"You can't grow peaches and grapes like this out-of-doors in England?"
said May. "I suppose you hardly ever see such a thing there except
under glass."

"Oh yes--on walls," said Gerard.

And then, as they wandered on beneath the pleasant shade of the
over-arching fig trees, and down by a quince hedge spangled with yellow
fruit, or again emerged upon a water-hole where a colony of finks dashed
hither and thither chattering in alarm, while their globular nests,
hanging like oranges from the boughs above the water, swung and jerked
at a rate which promised badly for the eggs they might contain--the girl
plied him with all manner of questions about England and the life there.
And, lo, when they had laughed over each other's mistakes and
misconceptions with regard to their respective countries, it seemed as
if they had known each other all their lives. Certain it was that to
Gerard that walk seemed the most delicious he had ever taken. But it
could not last for ever, and so they had to return to the house and to
dinner.

There they found Mr Kingsland's other son, who was duly introduced to
Gerard. Arthur Kingsland was very like his brother Tom, and both were
fine specimens of young colonial manhood. They could ride anything,
follow spoor, hit any mark at most astonishing ranges, and were afraid
of nothing. The reputation of Gerard's feats, which had already reached
them, was a sure passport to their favour, and accordingly they soon
became the very best of friends.

"Heard anything more about the Zulu question, Arthur?" said Mr
Kingsland during dinner to his youngest son, who had been out on
horseback since daybreak.

"Only the usual lie--Cetywayo is going to sweep in and eat us all up at
a minute's notice. Another yarn is that he's going to drive all the
Boers out of the disputed territory."

"It's just possible there may be some disturbance there," said Mr
Kingsland. "Still, Cetywayo is much too shrewd a man to declare regular
war against the Transvaal."

"Well, our route lies right through that same disputed territory," said
Dawes. "What do you think, Ridgeley? Like to get into a scrimmage with
a Zulu _impi_?"

"Mr