is not nice."

"Well, that's the advance of civilization," declared Schoverling. "It
was the same in Ohio and Missouri and Montana--everywhere. And yet there
are always new fields to conquer."

"As long as the H. B. C. ran things," flashed up Jack, with the true
Indian prejudice, "it was all right in Canada. The Company took care of
the game first rate. But now everybody takes a whack at trapping--and
where's the beaver gone?"

"True enough," sighed the explorer. "But the hunter must give place to
the settler, Jack."

A spirited argument ensued, to which Charlie and von Hofe listened
amusedly. In the end Jack had to confess that Schoverling was right,
however. Towards evening they got into more rolling country, while to
the northeast towered up the hills about Mount Kenia, whose snowy summit
had been long visible, although nearly a hundred miles away.

Just before sunset they cantered up to Botha's ranch. The hospitable
Boer did not need the letter from Piet Andrus to welcome them, and the
boys were keenly interested in his family. This consisted of his wife,
two stalwart, bearded sons, and their own families--chubby little Dutch
people who clambered over everyone, once their shyness had been removed.
Von Hofe was soon a prime favorite with them.

After dinner was over, the boys discovered that Botha was related to the
famous General of the same name, and had fought through the Boer war
with him until his capture. Like many other Boers, Jan had brought his
family up into the new country, where his sons had grown up, and where
his great ranch was speedily making him wealthy. Dutch and English lived
side by side on a perfectly friendly footing, and the old quarrels were
forgotten forever.

Jan Botha willingly agreed to ride over early in the morning, and set
them right at the Masai village, a dozen miles away, where he was well
known. So Charlie and Jack found themselves up before the dawn with the
rest of the family, eating breakfast by lamplight, and with the first
light of dawn they were on horseback, shivering in the chill morning
air.

An hour after sunrise they reached the village, a collection of grass
huts beside a river in the hills. Charlie was a little surprised to find
that the Masai were stalwart, eager-faced warriors, well dressed in
blankets or cotton cloth draped from the shoulder, and bearing spears,
bows, and black-and-white shields of hide.

"I wonder if they are really a branch of the Zulus