and "Ta-ra-ra boomdeay," seemed to frame a jarring
harmony to the sweet sunset beauty of that green and golden sweep of
surrounding--the feathery mimosa and the tropical mahobo-hobo tree, and
the grey granite piles, yonder, against the purple and red of the
western sky--but the shrill whoop and dark forms of the Mashuna boys
bringing in the cattle fitted in with the picture. But no eye or ear
had she for any such incongruities, any such contrast. Justin Spence
was drawing nearer and nearer to the house, with rapid impatient
strides, and she could see that he was not returning empty-handed
either.

Assuming her most seductive manner and most bewitching smile, she
strolled down to the gate to welcome him.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE NET SPREAD.

"Look at this--and this. Five altogether, and I only had six chances.
Not bad, is it? They were beastly wild, you know, and I had to scramble
all over that second kopje after them."

He flung down two substantial feathered bunches, representing _in toto_
the guinea-fowl just enumerated.

"You are a dear good boy, Justin," replied Hermia, looking down at the
spoils which he had literally laid at her feet, and then up into his
eyes. They were clear and blue, the clearer for the healthy brown of
the face. How handsome he was, she thought, glancing with a thrill of
approval at the tall well set-up form, in all the glory of youth and the
full vigour of health. "You are really very reliable--and--you need not
go yet. Come in now, and well put away the gun, and you shall stay and
have some supper with me; for really I am awfully lonely. Unless, of
course, you are afraid of going to your camp so late. They say lion
spoor has been seen again."

"If it had been the devil's spoor it would matter about as much or as
little," he replied, with huge and delighted contempt.

"Sh! Don't talk about unpleasant subjects--or people," she retorted.
"It isn't lucky."

They had entered the house. After the glow of light without, it seemed
almost dark, and the sun had just gone off the world, leaving the brief
pretence of an African twilight. An arm stole around her, imprisoning
her tightly.

"I want my reward for having carried out your instructions so
efficiently," said the young man. "Now give it me."

"Reward! Virtue is its own reward, you silly boy," answered Hermia,
glancing up into his eyes, with her mocking ones. "In this case, it
will have to be."

"Will it indeed?"