rly than his children,
it follows that the hatred which they cherished towards this imperious
and high-handed settler will hardly bear exaggeration. But Carhayes was
a powerful man and utterly fearless, and although these qualities had so
far availed to save his life, the savages were merely biding their time.
Meanwhile they solaced themselves with secret acts of revenge. A
thoroughbred horse would be found dead in the stable, a valuable cow
would be stabbed to death in the open _veldt_, or a fine, full-grown
ostrich would be discovered with a shattered leg and all its
wing-feathers plucked, sure sign, the latter, that the damage was due to
no accident. These acts of retaliation had generally followed within a
few days of one of the broils above alluded to, but so far from
intimidating Carhayes, their only effect was to enrage him the more. He
vowed fearful and summary vengeance against the perpetrators, should he
ever succeed in detecting them. He even went boldly to the principal
Gaika chiefs and laid claim to compensation. But those magnates were
the last men in the world to side with, or to help him. Some were
excessively civil, others indifferent, but all disclaimed any
responsibility in the matter.

Bearing these facts in mind there was, we repeat, every excuse for
Eanswyth's anxiety. But suddenly a sigh of relief escaped her. The
tramp of hoofs reaching her ears caused her to turn, and there,
approaching the house from a wholly unexpected direction, came the two
familiar mounted figures.

CHAPTER FOUR.

"LOVE SETTLING UNAWARES."

"Well, old girl, and how have you been getting through the day," was
Carhayes' unceremonious greeting as he slid from his horse. Eustace
turned away his head, and the faintest shadow of contempt flitted across
his impassive countenance. Had this glorious creature stood in the same
relationship towards himself he could no more have dreamed of addressing
her as "old girl" than he could have of carving his name across the
front of the silver altar which is exhibited once a year in the
"Battistero" at Florence.

"Pretty well, Tom," she answered smilingly. "And you? I hope you
haven't been getting into any more mischief. Has he, Eustace."

"Well, I have, then," rejoined Carhayes, grimly, for Eustace pretended
not to hear. "What you'd call mischief, I suppose. Now what d'you
think? I caught that _schelm_ Goniwe having a buck-hunt--a buck-hunt,
by Jove! right under