“Yes; alone as we are,” replied Swinton, laughing; “that is, with a party of thirty people, well armed, in search of adventure.  To be clear of the bustle of the town, and no longer cooped up in the fort, is pleasant enough; but, I suspect, to be quite alone in these African wilds would be any thing but agreeable.”

“Perhaps so.”

“Neither would you feel so much at ease if you knew that your chance of to-morrow’s dinner was to depend wholly upon what you might procure with your gun.  There is a satisfaction in knowing that you have four well-filled wagons behind you.”

“I grant that also,” replied the Major; “but still there is solitude even with this company, and I feel it.”

“A solitary caravan—­but grant that there is some difference between that and a solitary individual,” rejoined Swinton; “however, we have not come to solitude yet, for we shall find Dutch boors enough between this and Graham’s Town.”

“I think, Wilmot,” observed Henderson, “that I should, if I were you, proceed by slow stages at first, that we may get our men into some kind of order and discipline, and also that we may find out whether there are any who will not suit us; we can discharge them at Graham’s Town, and procure others in their place, at the same time that we engage our interpreters and guides.”

“I think your plan very good,” replied Alexander; “besides, we shall not have our wagons properly laden and arranged until we have been out three or four days.”

“One thing is absolutely necessary, which is, to have a guard kept every night,” said Swinton; “and there ought to be two men on guard at a time; for one of them is certain to fall asleep, if not both.  I know the Hottentots well.”

“They will be excellent guards, by your account,” said Alexander; “however, the dogs will serve us more faithfully.”

“I do not mean my remark to include all Hottentots; some are very faithful, and do their duty; but it comprehends the majority.”

“Are they courageous?” inquired Alexander.

“Yes, certainly, they may be considered as a brave race of men; but occasionally there is a poltroon, and, like all cowards, he brags more than the rest.”

“I’ve a strong suspicion that we have one of that kind among our hunters,” replied Henderson; “however, it is not fair to prejudge; I may be mistaken.”

“I think I know which you refer to, nevertheless,” said Alexander; “it is the great fellow that they call Big Adam.”

“You have hit upon the man, and to a certain degree corroborated my opinion of him.  But the day is dawning, the sun will soon be above those hills.”

“When we stop, I will have some grease put to those wagon-wheels,” said Alexander.

“I fear it will be of little use,” replied the Major; “creak they will.  I don’t know whether the oxen here are like those in India; but this I know, that the creaking of the carts and hackeries there is fifty times worse than this.  The natives never grease the wheels; they say the oxen would not go on if they did not hear the music behind them.”