As soon as Alexander and the Major had made known their perils and sufferings to Swinton, the latter informed them that about three hours after they had left the caravan in pursuit of the cattle, the animals had returned, that of course, he had fully expected them to follow.

Finding that they did not arrive, he had decided upon remaining where he was, at all events, for another day; but that the cattle were by that time so exhausted, that it was with difficulty they were moved, and he could not proceed with them more than ten miles, when they lay down in their yokes.  Thirteen had died, and the others must have shared their fate, if it had not been for the providential rain, which had restored them.

Swinton stated that he had been in a great state of alarm for them, and that he had almost satisfied himself that they had perished, although he had used every means that he could think of.  When he fired the rockets off, he had scarcely a hope of thus bringing them back to the caravan.

“However,” observed Swinton, “it shows that we should never despair, and never leave a chance untried, even in the most desperate circumstances.  You are back again, and I thank the Almighty for it with all my heart and all my soul and all my strength, most fervently and most sincerely.  I have been very, very miserable, I can assure you, my dear fellows.  The idea of returning to the Cape without you was dreadful.  Indeed, I never would have left the country until I had found you, or had some clew to your deaths.”

“Our preservation has indeed been miraculous,” replied the Major; “I never thought to have raised my head out of the ant-hill again.”

“Nor I,” replied Alexander; “and next to the Almighty, we certainly owe our lives to little Omrah.  There is nothing that I would not do for that boy, if you will only give him over to my care.”

“Or mine, Swinton,” replied the Major.

“Depend upon it,” replied Swinton, “I will do all for him that ought to be done; I owe him a debt of gratitude for preserving my friends, and will not forget to repay it.”

“Well then, you must allow us to help him as well,” replied the Major.  “How far are we now from the Modder River?”

“About forty miles, I should think, and we had better push on as fast as we, can; for although the river will contain water, the pools in the desert between us and the river will soon be dried up.  The cattle, however, are still very weak, and, as I have stated, we have lost all our relays.  But you must long to have a good night’s rest, so go to your wagons, and we will watch and keep off the wild beasts.  We have been obliged to fire our guns all night long since your absence, and have burned one of the spare poles of the wagons to cook our victuals.”

Every thing is comparative.  When our travelers first took up their night’s lodgings in the wagons they found their resting-places hard, after sleeping in comfortable beds at Cape Town; but now, after having passed their nights in the wild desert, their mattresses in the wagons were a luxury that was fully appreciated.  Returning thanks to Heaven for their preservation, Alexander and the Major slept soundly till morning, notwithstanding that the latter was often half roused by the importunities of Begum, who appeared delighted at the return of her master.