nearest
kopjie, he shouted hoarsely:

"Look! There's a man--near that kopjie--he's coming this way!"

It was no dream. A man, unarmed and unaccompanied, was advancing
toward them. From his dress and manner, it was easy to see that he was
not a Boer farmer. He looked more like an Englishman or an American.

Scarcely able to believe the evidence of his own eyes, Handsome watched
his progress.

As he came nearer, he waved his hand to show that he saw them, and he
walked faster, as if afraid that they might disappear before he could
reach them. Hickey, unable to restrain himself, had run forward, and
in a few minutes they met.

"Who are you?" demanded the stranger, whose face, shaded as it was by a
big canvas helmet, it was difficult to see.

"Miners from the Vaal," answered Hickey. "Who are you?"

"I am a Frenchman--Francois Chalat. I am ze valet of an American
gentleman. Our party not know ze road. We has wandered from what you
call ze trail. Will you show ze way to us?"

"Where's your party?" demanded Hickey.

Francois pointed to a kopjie about three miles distant.

"There! Behind zat hill."

Just at that moment, Handsome came lumbering up almost on the run,
anxious to know what it was all about.

"Have you any whiskey?" was his first breathless ejaculation. "We're
starving."

The valet made no answer. He was too startled to speak. Drawing back
a few steps, he stared blankly at the big fellow. For several minutes
he stood as if struck dumb. Presently, when he found his speech, he
asked in awed tones:

"Who are you? What's your name?"

"What business is it of yours?" snapped Handsome, with some show of
irritation. "Have you any food or whiskey? We're starving."

The valet made no answer, but just stared in astonished silence at the
big six-footer who towered above him. For a moment he had thought it a
trick that his master had played upon him. By walking quickly he had
got there before him, and dressed up in these rags just to have fun
with him. But that matted hair and that chin, with its weeks of growth
of beard. He could not be deceived in that. No, this man was not his
employer. Could it be possible, was it--his twin brother long since
given up for dead? The same physique, the same features, the same
eyes, the same thick, bushy hair with the single lock of white hair in
the center of the forehead. There was no room for doubt. It was his
employer's brother. It was just