the northern face of the koppie. Here,
surrounded by a fence, stood the Chief's kraal, and just outside of it
a large, thatched hut with one or two smaller huts at its back. It was
a good hut of its sort, being built after the Basuto fashion with a
projecting roof and a doorway, and having a kind of verandah floored
with beaten lime.

"This was the Teacher's house," said Kosa as the wagon halted.

"I should like to look inside it at once," remarked Dorcas doubtfully,
adding, "Why, what's that?" and she pointed to a suspicious-looking,
oblong mound that was covered with weeds, over which she had almost
stumbled.

"That is the grave of the late Teacher, Lady. We buried him here because
Menzi's people took up the bones of those who were in the churchyard and
threw them into the river," explained Kosa.

Dorcas looked as though she were going to faint, but Thomas, rising to
the occasion, remarked:

"Come on, dear. The dead are always with us, and what better company
could we have than the dust of our sainted predecessor."

"I would rather have his room," murmured Dorcas, and gathering herself
together, proceeded to the hut.

Somebody opened the door with difficulty, and as it seemed to be very
dark within Thomas struck a match, by the light of which Dorcas peered
into the interior. Next second she fell back into his arms with a little
scream.

"Take me away!" she said. "The place is full of rats."

He stared; it was quite true. There, sitting up upon the dead
missionary's bed, was a singularly large rat that did not seem in the
least frightened by their appearance, whilst other creatures of the same
tribe scuttled about the floor and up the walls.

Dorcas slept, or did not sleep, that night in the wagon with Tabitha,
while Thomas took his rest beneath it as well as a drizzling rain that
was falling would allow.

Such was the beginning of the life of the Bull family in Sisa-Land,
not an encouraging beginning, it will be admitted, though no worse and
perhaps much better than that which many missionaries and their families
are called upon to face in various regions of the earth. What horror is
there that missionaries have not been called upon to endure? St. Paul
tells us of his trials, but they are paralleled, if not surpassed, even
in the present day.

Missionaries, however good, may not always be wise folk; the reader
might even think the Rev. Thomas Bull to be no perfect embodiment of
wisdom, sympathy