ight, sir,--right; the mixture is not a bad one. The Dutch
element gives steadiness, the English vigour, and the French spirit.--By
the way, Arend," he continued, turning to one of his stout
olive-branches, "talking of spirit reminds me that you will have to go
to work at that leak in the dam with more spirit than usual, for we
can't afford to lose water in this dry weather. It is not finished, I
think?"

"No, father, but we hope to get it done this afternoon."

"That's well. How many of you are at it?"

"David and I, with six Totties. Old Sam is ill, and none of the others
can be spared to-day."

"Can't some of your brothers help?" asked the farmer. "Losing water is
as bad almost as losing gold."

"Joseph meant to come, but he started at six this morning to look after
the cattle. We hear that the Kafirs carried off some of Jan Smit's
sheep yesterday."

"The black scoundrels!" exclaimed Conrad Marais, with a growl and a
frown, "they are never at rest, either in times of peace or of war."

The frown passed as quickly as it came, and the genial smile habitual to
the farmer resumed its place on his countenance as he ran his fingers
through the thick masses of his iron-grey hair, and rose from the table.

"Come, Mr Considine," he said, putting on his hat, "are you disposed
for a ride? I take a look round the farm every morning to see that
things are going straight. Will you join me?"

Of course Considine gladly assented, and Hans said he would accompany
them, while the other sons--except of course the younger ones, and the
baby who was Bertha's special charge--went out to their various
avocations.

A few minutes later the three horsemen were cantering over the plain.

During the ride, Considine was again questioned closely as to his future
intentions and prospects, but without anything very satisfactory being
evolved. At last Conrad Marais pulled up, after a long pause in the
conversation, and while they advanced at a walk, said--"Well, I've been
_thinking_, and here is the outcome. You want work, Mr Considine, and
I want a workman. You've had a good education, which I count a
priceless advantage. Some of my sons have had a little, but since I
came here the young ones have had none at all worth mentioning. What
say you to become a schoolmaster? You stop with me and give the
youngsters as much as you think fit of whatever you know, and I'll give
you house-room and food, with a small salary and a he