n which was his
bachelor home.

Stephen, we may remark in passing, was not a bachelor from choice.
Twice had he essayed to win the affections of Jessie McTavish, and twice
had he failed. Not being a man of extreme selfishness, he refused to
die of a broken heart. He mourned indeed, deeply and silently, but he
bowed his head, and continued, as far as in him lay, to fulfil the end
for which he seemed to have been created. He travelled with goods far
and wide throughout the eastern districts of the colony, became a
walking newspaper to the farmers of the frontier, and a guide to the
Better Land to whoever would grant him a hearing.

But Stephen's mercantile course, like that of his affections, did not
run smooth. At the present time it became even more rugged than the
mountain road which almost dislocated his waggon and nearly maddened his
Hottentot drivers, for, when involved in the intricacies of a pass, he
was suddenly attacked by a band of "wild" Bushman marauders. The spot
chanced to be so far advantageous that a high precipice at his back
rendered it impossible to attack him except in front, where the ground
was pretty open.

Orpin was by no means a milksop, and, although a Christian man, did not
understand Christianity to teach the absolute giving up of all one's
possessions to the first scoundrel who shall demand them. The moment,
therefore, that the robbers showed themselves, he stopped the waggon at
the foot of the precipice, drew his ever-ready double-barrelled
large-bore gun from under the tilt, and ran out in front, calling on his
men to support him. Kneeling down, he prepared to take a steady aim at
the Bushman in advance, a wild-looking savage in a sheepskin kaross and
armed with an assagai. The robbers were evidently aware of the nature
of a gun, for they halted on seeing the decided action of the trader.

"Come on!" shouted Orpin to his men, looking back over his shoulder; but
his men were nowhere to be seen: they had deserted him at the first
sight of the robbers, and scrambled away into the jungle like monkeys.

To resist some dozens of savages single-handed Stephen knew would be
useless, and to shed blood unnecessarily was against his principles. He
therefore made up his mind at once how to act. Rising and turning
round, he discharged his gun at the precipice, to prevent the Bushmen
from accidentally doing mischief with it; then, sitting down on a piece
of fallen rock, he quietly took out