the “location.”

in the midst of the confused heap of their property, edwin brook sat down on a large chest beside his wife and daughter, and gazed for some time in silence on his new estate and home.

to say truth, it was in many respects a pleasant prospect. a bright blue sky overhead, a verdant earth around. grassy hills and undulations of rich pasture-land swept away from their feet like a green sea, until stopped in the far distance by the great blue sea itself. these were dotted everywhere with copses of the yellow-flowered mimosa-bush, through openings in which the glitter of a stream could be seen, while to the left and behind lay the dark masses of a dense jungle filled with arboreous and succulent plants, acacias and evergreens, wild-looking aloes, tall euphorbias, quaint cactuses, and a great variety of flowering shrubs—filled also, as was very soon discovered, with antelopes, snakes, jackals, hyenas, leopards, and other wild creatures. the only familiar objects which broke the wild beauty of the scene were the distant white specks which they knew to be the tents just put up by those settlers who chanced to be their “next neighbours.”

“may god protect and bless us in our new home!” said edwin brook, breaking the silence, and reverently taking off his cap.

a heartfelt “amen” was murmured by mrs brook and gertie, but a strange, though not unpleasant, feeling of loneliness had crept over their spirits, inducing them to relapse into silence, for they could not avoid realising strongly that at last they were fairly left alone to fight the great battle of life. edwin brook in particular, on seeing the long team of the dutch driver disappear over a distant ridge, was for the first time deeply impressed with, as it were, the forsaken condition of himself and his family. it was plain that he must take root there and grow—or die. there was no neighbouring town or village from which help could be obtained in any case of emergency; no cart or other means of conveyance to remove their goods from the spot on which they had been left; no doctor in case of sickness; no minister in cases either of joy or sorrow—except indeed (and it was a blessed exception) him who came to our world “not to be ministered unto, but to minister.”

strong in the comfort that this assurance gave, edwin brook shook off the lethargy that had been stealing over him, and set about the duties of the present hour. the tent had to be pitched, the trunks and boxes conveyed into it, a fire kindled, the kettle boiled, the goods and chattels piled and secured from the weather, firewood cut to prepare for the night-bivouac, etcetera.

much of this work was already in progress, for george dally,—with that ready resource and quiet capacity of adaptation to circumstances which he had displayed on the voyage out and on the journey to the location,—had already kindled a fire, sent scholtz to cut firewood, and was busy erecting the tent when brook joined him.

“that’s right, george,” he said, seizing a tent-peg and mallet; “we have plenty to do here, and no time to waste.”

“very true, sir,” replied george, touching his cap, for george was an innately respectful man—respectful to all, though with a strong tendency to humorous impudence; “very true, sir; that’s just what i thought when i see you a-meditatin’, so i went to work at once without wastin’ any time.”

“is zat enough?” asked scholtz, staggering up at the moment with a heavy load of firewood, which he threw on the ground.

the question was put to george, for whom the big german had a special regard, and whose orders he consequently obeyed with unquestioning alacrity, although george had no special right to command.

“enough!” exclaimed george, with a look of surprise, “why, zat is not enough to scare a weasel with, much less a elephant or a—a platzicumroggijoo.”

george was ignorant of south african zoology, and possessed inventive powers.

“bring ten times as much,” he added; “we shall have to keep a blazin’ bonfire agoin’ all night.”

scholtz re-shouldered his axe, and went off to the jungle with a broad grin on his broader countenance.

he was a man who did not spare himself, yet of a temperament that kicked at useless labour, and of a size that forbade the idea of compulsion, but george dally could have led him with a packthread to do anything.

before he had reached the jungle, and while the smile was yet on his visage, his blood was curdled and his face elongated by a most appalling yell! it was not exactly a war-whoop, nor was it a cry of pain, though it partook of both, and filled the entire family with horror as they rushed to the tent on the mound from which the cry had issued.

the yell had been given by junkie, who had been bitten or stung by something, and who, under the combined influence of surprise, agony, and wrath, had out-junkied himself in the fervour and ferocity of his indignant protest.

the poor child was not only horrified, but inconsolable. he wriggled like an eel, and delivered a prolonged howl with intermittent bursts for full half an hour, while his distracted nurse and mother almost tore the garments off his back in their haste to discover the bite or the brute that had done it.

“it must have bin a serpent!” cried the nurse, agonising over a knotted string.

“perhaps a tarantula,” suggested gertie, who only clasped her hands and looked horrified.

“quick!” exclaimed mrs brook, breaking the unmanageable tape.

“ze chile is growing black and vill bust!” murmured scholtz in real alarm.

it did seem as if there were some likelihood of such a catastrophe, for junkie’s passion and struggles had rendered him blue in the face; but it wes found that the bite or sting, whichever it was, had done little apparent damage, and as the child cried himself out and sobbed himself to sleep in half an hour without either blackening or bursting, the various members of the family were relieved, and resumed their suspended labours.

the shades of evening had fallen, and, among other orbs of night, the stars of that much too highly complimented constellation, the “southern cross,” had for some time illumined the sky before these labours were completed, and the wearied brook family and household retired to rest, with weapons ready at hand and fires blazing. wild beasts—to whose cries they were by that time accustomed—soon began their nightly serenade and carried it on till morning, but they were not wild enough to disturb the newcomers with anything more formidable than sound.

next morning early, george dally was the first to bestir himself. on taking a general view of surrounding nature he observed a thin column of smoke rising above the tree-tops in the direction of the stream or river to which reference has already been made.

“perhaps it’s kafirs,” thought george.

following up that thought he returned to what we may style his lair—the place where he had spent the night—under a mimosa-bush, and there girded himself with a belt containing a long knife. he further armed himself with a fowling-piece. thus accoutred he sallied forth with the nonchalant air of a sportsman taking his pleasure. going down to the stream, and following its course upwards, he quickly came in sight of the camp-fire whose smoke had attracted his attention. a tall man in dishabille was bending over it, coaxing the flame to kindle some rather green wood over which a large iron pot hung from a tripod. the fire was in front of a large, but not deep, cavern, in the recesses of which three slumbering figures were visible.

drawing cautiously nearer, george discovered that the man at the fire was john skyd, and of course jumped to the conclusion that the three slumbering figures were his brothers and friend. these enterprising knights of the quill, having found what they deemed a suitable spot, had selected a cave for their residence, as being at once ready and economical.

now, george dally, being gifted with a reckless as well as humorous disposition, suddenly conceived the idea of perpetrating a practical joke. perhaps junkie’s performances on the previous evening suggested it. flinging his cap on the ground, he ran his fingers through his thick hair until it stood up in wild confusion, and then, deliberately uttering a hideous and quite original war-whoop, he rushed furiously towards the cave.

the brothers skyd and company proved themselves equal to the occasion, for they received him at the cavern mouth with the muzzles of four double-barrelled guns, and a stern order to halt!

next moment the muzzles were thrown up as they exclaimed in surprise—

“why, dally, is it you?”

“didn’t you hear it?” gasped george, supporting himself on the side of the cavern.

“hear what?”

“the war-whoop!”

“of course we did—at least we heard a most unearthly yell. what was it?”

“we’d best go out and see,” cried george, cocking his gun; “if it was kafirs the sooner we follow them up the better.”

“not so, friend george,” said frank dobson, in a slightly sarcastic tone. “if it was kafirs they are far beyond our reach by this time, and if they mean us harm we are safer in our fortress here. my opinion is that we should have our breakfast without delay, and then we shall be in a fit state to face our foes—whether they be men or beasts.”

acting on this suggestion, with a laugh, the brothers leaned their guns against the wall of the cavern and set about the preparation of breakfast in good earnest.

meanwhile george gravely assented to the wisdom of their decision, and sat down to his morning pipe, while he questioned the brothers as to their intentions.

they pointed out to him the spot where they thought of commencing agricultural operations and the site of their future dwelling—close, they said, to the cave, because that would be conveniently near the river, which would be handy for both washing, drinking, and boiling purposes.

“that’s true—wery true,” said george, “but it seems to me you run a risk of bein’ washed away, house and all, if you fix the site so low down, for i’ve heard say there are floods in these parts now and again.”

“oh, no fear of that!” said robert skyd, who was the quietest of the three brothers; “don’t you see the foundation of our future house is at least ten feet above the highest point to which the river seems to have risen in times past?”

“ah, just so,” responded george, with the air of a man not convinced.

“besides,” added john skyd, lifting the iron pot off the fire and setting it down, “i suppose that floods are not frequent, so we don’t need to trouble ourselves about ’em.—come, dally, you’ll join us?”

“no, thank ’ee. much obleeged all the same, but i’ve got to prepare breakfast for our own party.—goin’ to begin plantin’ soon?”

“as soon as ever we can get the soil broken up,” replied dobson.

“studied farmin’?” inquired george.

“not much, but we flatter ourselves that what we do know will be of some service to us,” said john.

dally made no reply, but he greatly doubted in his own mind the capacity of the brothers for the line of life they had chosen.

his judgment in this respect was proved correct a week later, when he and edwin brook had occasion to visit the brothers, whom they found hard at work ploughing and sowing.

“come, this looks business-like!” exclaimed brook heartily, as he shook hands with the brothers; “you’ve evidently not been idle. i have just come to ask a favour of you, gentlemen.”

“we shall grant it with pleasure, if within our powers,” said robert skyd, who leaned on a spade with which he had been filling in a trench of about two feet deep.

“it is, that you will do me and mrs brook the pleasure of coming over to our location this afternoon to dinner. it is our gertie’s birthday. she is thirteen to-day. in a rash moment we promised her a treat or surprise of some sort, but really the only surprise i can think of in such an out-of-the-way place is to have a dinner-party in her honour. will you come?”

the brothers at once agreed to do so, remarking, however, that they must complete the sowing of their carrot-seed before dinner if possible.

“what did you say you were sowing?” asked brook, with a peculiar smile.

“carrot-seed,” answered robert skyd.

“if your carrot-seed is sown there,” said george dally, pointing with a broad grin to the trench, “it’s very likely to come up in england about the time it does here,—by sendin’ its roots right through the world!”

“how? what do you mean?”

“the truth is, my dear sir,” said brook good-humouredly, “that you’ve made a slight mistake in this matter. carrot-seed is usually sown in trenches less than an inch deep. you’d better leave off work just now and come over to my place at once. i’ll give you some useful hints as we walk along.”

the knights of the quill laughed at their mistake, and at once threw down their implements of husbandry. but on going over their farm, brook found it necessary to correct a few more mistakes, for he discovered that the active brothers had already planted a large quantity of indian corn, or “mealies,” entire, without knocking it off the cobs, and, in another spot of ground, a lot of young onions were planted with the roots upwards!

“you see, miss gertie,” said john skyd, when commenting modestly on these mistakes at dinnertime, “my brothers and i have all our lives had more to do with the planting of ‘houses’ and the growth of commercial enterprise than with agricultural products, but we are sanguine that, with experience and perseverance, we shall overcome all our difficulties. have you found many difficulties to overcome!”

gertie was not sure; she thought she had found a few, but none worth mentioning. being somewhat put out by the question, she picked up a pebble—for the dinner was a species of picnic, served on the turf in front of mr brook’s tent—and examined it with almost geological care.

“my daughter does not like to admit the existence of difficulties,” said mrs brook, coming to the rescue, “and to say truth is seldom overcome by anything.”

“oh, ma, how can you?” said gertie, blushing deeply.

“that’s not true,” cried mr brook; “excuse me, my dear, for so flat a contradiction, but i have seen gertie frequently overcome by things,—by junkie’s obstinacy for instance, which i verily believe to be an insurmountable difficulty, and i’ve seen her thoroughly overcome, night after night, by sleep.—isn’t that true, lass?”

“i suppose it is, father, since you say so, but of course i cannot tell.”

“sleep!” continued brook, with a laugh, “why, would you believe it, mr skyd, i went into what we call the nursery-tent one morning last week, to try to stop the howling of my little boy, and i found him lying with his open mouth close to gertie’s cheek, pouring the flood of his wrath straight into her ear, and she sound asleep all the time! my nurse, mrs scholtz, told me she had been as sound as that all night, despite several heavy squalls, and notwithstanding a chorus of hyenas and jackals outside that might almost have awakened the dead.—by the way, that reminds me: just as i was talking with nurse that morning we heard a most unearthly shriek at some distance off. it was not the least like the cry of any wild animal i have yet heard, and for the first time since our arrival the idea of kafirs flashed into my mind. did any of you gentlemen happen to hear it?”

the brothers looked at each other, and at their friend dobson, and then unitedly turned their eyes on george dally, who—performing the combined duties of cook and waiter, at a fire on the ground, not fifteen feet to leeward of the dinner-party—could hear every word of the conversation.

“why, yes,” said john skyd, “we did hear it, and so did your man dally. we had thought—”

“the truth is, sir,” said george, advancing with a miniature pitchfork or “tormentor” in his hand; “pardon my interrupting you, sir,—i did hear the screech, but as i couldn’t say exactly for certain, you know, that it was a kafir, not havin’ seen one, i thought it best not to alarm you, sir, an’ so said nothing about it.”

“you looked as if you had seen one,” observed frank dobson, drawing down the corners of his mouth with his peculiar smile.

“did i, sir!” said george, with a simple look; “very likely i did, for i’m timersome by nature an’ easily frightened.”

“you did not act with your wonted wisdom, george, in concealing this,” said edwin brook gravely.

“i’m afraid i didn’t sir,” returned george meekly.

“in future, be sure to let me know every symptom of danger you may discover, no matter how trifling,” said brook.

“yes, sir.”

“it was a very tremendous yell, wasn’t it, dally?” asked john skyd slily, as the waiter-cook was turning to resume his duties at the fire.

“wery, sir.”

“and alarmed us all dreadfully, didn’t it?”

“oh! dreadfully, sir—’specially me; though i must in dooty say that you four gentleman was as bold as brass. it quite relieved me when i saw your tall figurs standin’ at the mouth o’ your cavern, an’ the muzzles o’ your four double-guns—that’s eight shots—with your glaring eyes an’ pale cheeks behind them!”

“ha!” exclaimed john skyd, with a grim smile—“but after all it might only have been the shriek of a baboon.”

“i think not, sir,” replied george, with a smile of intelligence.

“perhaps then it was the cry of a zebra or quagga,” returned john skyd, “or a south african ass of some sort.”

“wery likely, sir,” retorted george. “i shouldn’t wonder if it was—which is wery consolin’ to my feelin’s, for i’d sooner be terrified out o’ my wits by asses of any kind than fall in with these long-legged savages that dwell in caves.”

with an appearance of great humility george returned to his work at the fire.

it was either owing to a sort of righteous retribution, or a touch of that fortune which favours the brave, that george dally was in reality the first, of this particular party of settlers, to encounter the black and naked inhabitant of south africa in his native jungle. it was on this wise.

george was fond of sport, when not detained at home by the claims of duty. but these claims were so constant that he found it impossible to indulge his taste, save, as he was wont to say, “in the early morn and late at eve.”

one morning about daybreak, shouldering his gun and buckling on his hunting-knife, he marched into the jungle in quest of an antelope. experience had taught him that the best plan was to seat himself at a certain opening or pass which lay on the route to a pool of water, and there bide his time.

seating himself on a moss-covered stone, he put his gun in position on his knee, with the forefinger on the trigger, and remained for some time so motionless that a north american indian might have envied his powers of self-restraint. suddenly a twig was heard to snap in the thicket before him. next moment the striped black and yellow skin of a leopard, or cape tiger, appeared in the opening where he had expected to behold a deer. dally’s gun flew to his shoulder. at the same instant the leopard skin was thrown back, and the right arm of a tall athletic kafir was bared. the hand grasped a light assagai, or darting spear. both men were taken by surprise, and for one instant they glared at each other. the instance between them was so short that death to each seemed imminent, for the white man’s weapon was a deadly one, and the cast of the lithe savage would doubtless have been swift and sure.

in that instant of uncertainty the white man’s innate spirit of forbearance acted almost involuntarily. dally had hitherto been a man of peace. the thought of shedding human blood was intensely repulsive to him. he lowered the butt of his gun, and held up his right hand in token of amity.

the savage possessed apparently some of the good qualities of the white man, for he also at once let the butt of his assegai drop to the ground, although he knew, what dally was not aware of, that considering the nature of their weapons, he placed himself at a tremendous disadvantage in doing so—the act of throwing forward and discharging the deadly fire-arm being much quicker than that of poising and hurling an assagai.

without a moment’s hesitation george dally advanced and held out his right hand with a bland smile.

although unfamiliar with kafir customs, he had heard enough from the dutch farmers who drove the ox-teams to know that only chiefs were entitled to wear the leopard skin as a robe. the tall form and dignified bearing of the savage also convinced him that he had encountered no ordinary savage. he also knew that the exhibition of a trustful spirit goes a long way to create good-will. that his judgment was correct appeared from the fact of the kafir holding out his hand and allowing george to grasp and shake it.

but what to do next was a question that puzzled the white man sorely, although he maintained on his good-natured countenance an expression of easy nonchalance.

of course he made a vain attempt at conversation in english, to which the kafir chief replied, with dignified condescension, by a brief sentence in his own tongue.

as george dally looked in his black face, thoughts flashed through his brain with the speed of light. should he kill him outright? that would be simple murder, in the circumstances, and george objected to murder, on principle. should he suddenly seize and throw him down? he felt quite strong enough to do so, but after such a display of friendship it would be mean. should he quietly bid him good morning and walk away? this, he felt, would be ridiculous. at that moment tobacco occurred to his mind. he quietly rested his gun against a tree, and drew forth a small roll of tobacco, from which he cut at least a foot and handed it to the chief. the dignity of the savage at once gave way before the beloved weed. he smiled—that is, he grinned in a ghastly way, for his face, besides being black, was streaked with lines of red ochre—and graciously accepted the gift. then george made an elaborate speech in dumb-show with hands, fingers, arms, and eyes, to the effect that he desired the kafir to accompany him to his location, but the chief gravely shook his head, pointed in another direction and to the sun, as though to say that time was on the wing; then, throwing his leopard-skin robe over his right shoulder with the air of a spanish grandee, he turned aside and strode into the jungle.

george, glad to be thus easily rid of him, also turned and hurried home.

this time he was not slow to let his employer know that he had met with a native.

“it behoves us to keep a sharp look-out, george,” said brook. “i heard yesterday from young merton that some of the settlers not far from his place have had a visit from the black fellows, who came in the night, and while they slept carried off some of the sheep they had recently purchased from an up-country county dutchman. we will watch for a few nights while rumours of this kind are afloat. when all seems quiet we can take it easy. let scholtz take the first watch. you will succeed him, and i will mount guard from the small hours onward.”

for some days this precaution was continued, but as nothing more was heard of black marauders the brook family gradually ceased to feel anxious, and the nightly watch was given up.