here was the
tremendous barking roar of a lion, and my father uttered a deep "Ha!"

"Boss shoot lion," said the black in a quiet, contented way; and from
out of the darkness beneath the great wagon came the sound of the
foreloper settling himself down once more to sleep. I remember
wondering whether he had anything to cover himself, for the night was
fresh and cold. I asked my father.

"Yes; I saw him with a sheepskin over his shoulders. He won't hurt."

We were interrupted by no lion that night, and at the first dawn of day
we were out with the spades again; our black visitor, under my
direction, digging the holes for the trees, while father planted, and
Bob held the stems straight upright till their roots were all nicely
spread out, and soil carefully placed amongst them, and trampled firmly
in.

This went on till breakfast-time, when Aunt Jenny called us, and the
Dutchman came and sat with us, while the great Kaffir carried his
portion away, and sat under the wagon to munch.

After the meal the Boer lit his pipe, sat down on a piece of rock, and
smoked and looked on till midday, by which time the fruit-trees were all
planted, and the big Kaffir had trotted to and fro with a couple of
buckets, bringing water to fill up the saucer-like depressions placed
about each tree. Then Aunt Jenny called us to dinner, and after that
the Boer said it was time to inspan and begin the journey back.

Oh, how well I remember it all!--seeing my father opening a wash-leather
bag and paying the Boer the sum that had been agreed upon, and that he
wasn't satisfied, but asked for another dollar for the work done by his
man. Then father laughed and said he ought to charge for the meals that
had been eaten; but he gave the Boer the money all the same; and Aunt
Jenny uttered a deep grunt, and said afterwards in her old-fashioned
way, "Oh John, what a foolish boy you are!" Then he kissed her and
said, "Yes, Jen. I always was. You didn't half-teach me when I was
young."

This was after we had watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller in the
distance on its way back, and after the great black had stood and looked
down at me and laughed in his big, noisy way.

Then once more we were alone in the great desert, father looking proudly
down at his little orchard, and Bob walking up and down touching every
tree, and counting them over again.

"Begins to look homely now, Val," he said; "but we must work, boy--
work."

We did work h