she will never, to
her dying hour, forget the scene that lay before her. Boer women are
not, as a rule, impressionable; they give little heed to the sights that
surround them, and have no eye for the picturesque. But this evening,
of all others, will, for a particular reason, remain imprinted deep in
the tablets of Jacoba's remembrance. Below the wagons lay the Lake
River, now somewhat shrunk within its low banks, and teeming with bird
life. Just here the tall reeds had been burnt down, and there was a
clear view. Flamingoes, ibises, coots, great gaudy geese, thousands of
wild-duck, widgeon, and teal thronged the shallows and darkened the
river surface. Elegant jacanas flitted brilliantly upon trembling
islets of floating weed. Noisy spur-winged plovers clamoured with sharp
metallic voices. Aloft soared a great fishing-eagle or two. And from
afar, following one another slowly and solemnly in even, single-file
procession, long lines of monstrous pelicans filled the sky. Their
soft, melancholy whistling sounded clear, even amid the lowing of the
parched oxen, now frantic and well-nigh dead with thirst. To the right
the vast reed-beds of the Komadau marsh filled the view for miles. In
front, outlined clear against the flaming sunset, stood up here and
there a few tall palm trees, marking the course of the river. Beyond
these the dry plains stretched to the north and west in illimitable
monotony.

Just beyond where the Steyns had outspanned was the wagon of another
traveller. And as Jacoba Steyn stood, stretching herself a little after
the long wagon journey, and gazing about her, the owner of it walked up
from the river. He was an Englishman, that was perfectly clear. His
smart, erect carriage, short, neatly trimmed dark beard and moustache,
and the cut of his breeches, gaiters, and boots, at once proclaimed the
fact. He looked to be about the middle height; he was strong and well
set up; an air of careless grace sat well upon him. He had dark and
very handsome grey eyes, and a most pleasant smile, and his face,
throat, and bare arms were deeply tanned by the sun. He wore a
broad-brimmed felt hat for head-gear, and his grey flannel shirt was
open at the throat, and had the sleeves rolled up. On his shoulder
rested a double-barrelled shot-gun. At his heels followed a pointer
dog, and a young native boy, the latter carrying several couple of duck
and geese. As the stranger approached the wagons and dof