xen to
water or pasture, the dog followed close at his heels, making no
demonstration of friendliness, never barking, but walking with lowered
head and surly look, just behind, stopping when the black did, going on
or returning, and never leaving him for a moment, and ending by going
back to his place under the wagon, and there resting his head upon his
paws.

Of course, all this was the sick dog's natural objection to being left
alone; but to Jack it meant a great deal more. That dog had always been
rather unfriendly, and was evidently a very uncanny kind of beast, which
could understand everything that was said to him, and would fully carry
out the old German's instructions. Duke followed him about to see that
he did his work properly, and as Jack walked on, he often felt the
sensation in his calves known as pins and needles, which made him wince
and tremble; and on one occasion he uttered a yell of horror, for the
dog's cold nose touched one of his bare ankles, and made him bound a
couple of yards.

For to him there was no doubt about the matter whatever. Duke was
watching everything he did, and the moment he relaxed his efforts, those
white teeth would close upon his leg; and if he had been talked to and
argued with for a week, he would never have believed that he would not
for a certainty go mad, die, and be thrown out upon the sands to the
jackals and vultures which hung about their nightly camps.

The consequence was that, saving a few of the trifling mishaps which
befall wagon travellers through the South African deserts, Dyke's return
journey was peaceful and enjoyable, even if slow. He would often have
liked to gallop forward to get nearer home; but the wagon held him as a
magnet does its bar, and he thoroughly fulfilled the trust placed in him
by his brother.

At last the morning dawned when a steady day's work would bring them to
Kopfontein, and starting at once, they got on a few miles before halting
for breakfast. Then went on for three hours; halted again to dine and
rest during the hottest part of the day. After which there was the
little river to ford a couple of miles farther on, and then twelve miles
would bring them home, late in the evening perhaps, but Dyke was
determined to finish before he slept.

Hardly had they settled down in the shelter of the wagon for that
mid-day halt, than Dyke found that the wagon-tilt would be useful for
something else besides keeping off the sun. For some