e confidence of youth.

The stranger proved to be a young man of about his own age--a little
over twenty--but much taller and more massive in frame. He was, indeed,
a young giant, and bestrode a horse suitable to his weight. He was clad
in the rough woollen and leathern garments worn by the frontier farmers,
or boers, of that period, and carried one of those long heavy flint-lock
guns, or "roers," which the Dutch-African colonist then deemed the most
effective weapon in the universe.

"Well met!" exclaimed Considine heartily, as he rode up.

"Humph! that depends on whether we meet as friends or foes," replied the
stranger, with a smile on his cheerful countenance that accorded ill
with the caution of his words.

"Well met, I say again, whether we be friends or foes," returned
Considine still more heartily, "for if we be friends we shall
fraternise; if we be foes we shall fight, and I would rather fight you
for love, hate, or fun, than die of starvation in the karroo."

"What is your name, and where do you come from?" demanded the stranger.

"One question at a time, if you please," answered the youth. "My name
is Charles Considine. What is yours?"

"Hans Marais."

"Well, Mr Marais, I come from England, which is my native home. In the
coming I managed to get wrecked in Table Bay, landed at Capetown, joined
a frontier farmer, and came up here--a long and roughish journey, as
probably you know, and as my garments testify. On the way I lost my
comrades, and in trying to find them lost myself. For two days nothing
in the shape of meat or drink has passed my lips, and my poor horse has
fared little better in the way of drink, though the karroo-bush has
furnished him with food enough to keep his bones together. So now, you
have my biography in brief, and if you be a man possessed of any powers
of sympathy, you will know what to do."

The young Dutchman held out his huge hand, which Considine grasped and
shook warmly.

"Come," he said, while a slight smile played on his bronzed countenance;
"I have nothing here to give you, but if you will come with me to yon
koppie you shall have both meat and drink."

The koppie to which he referred was a scarce discernible knoll on the
horizon.

Hans Marais seemed to be a man of few words, for he turned and galloped
away, without for some time uttering another syllable to his companion.
As for Considine, the thought of once more feasting on any sort of meat
and drink wa