le un," said Joe, clapping his brother on
the shoulder. "Let's make our pile first."

"Then the goblin will live for ever," sighed the boy, "for we shall
never make any piles.--Where is he?"

Joe shaded his eyes and looked right across the barren veldt, where the
glare of the sun produced a hazy, shimmering effect.

"There he is!"

"Don't see anything."

"Yes, you can. Your eyes are sharper than mine. There, just to the
left of that rock."

"What!--that one like a young kopje?"

"Yes, just to the left."

"What!--that speck? Oh! that can't be it."

"Yes, it is; and if you had the glass, you could tell directly."

"But it's so far, and oh dear, how hot it is!"

"It will be cooler riding."

"No, it won't," grumbled Dyke; "there'll be hot horses under you, then."

"Yes, but cool air rushing by you. Come, old lad, don't sham idleness."

"It isn't sham," said Dyke. "I don't think I used to be idle, but this
hot sun has stewed all the spirit out of me."

Joe said nothing, but led the way round to the back of the long low
house, to where a high thick hedge of thorns shut in a lean-to shed
thatched with mealie leaves and stalks; these, the dry remains of a load
of Indian corn, being laid on heavily, so as to form a good shelter for
the horses, haltered to a rough manger beneath.

As Dyke approached, he raised a metal whistle which hung from his neck
by a leather thong, and blew loudly. A low whinny answered the call,
and a big, raw-boned, powerful horse and a handsome, well-bred cob were
unhaltered, to turn and stand patiently enough to be bridled and
saddled, afterwards following out their masters like dogs.

And now as they passed the end of the stable, all the languor and
lassitude passed away from Dyke on the instant. For he now caught sight
of their Kaffir servant lying fast asleep just beneath the eaves of the
corrugated iron roof.

The sand hushed the horses' hoofs, and the Kaffir slept on, with the
flies buzzing about his half-open mouth, as if they mistook the thick
red lips for the petals of some huge flower.

"I'm not going to stand that," said the boy.

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll see," whispered Dyke. "If I'm to be toiling after goblins, he's
not going to sleep there like a black pig. Go on a little way and look
back."

Joe Emson smiled in a heavy, good-humoured way, as he took the bridle
his brother handed to him, and the smile developed into a silent laugh,
as he saw