As it turned out this was a wise conclusion, since although it took four weary months, in the end we accomplished it without any accident whatsoever, if I except a slight attack of fever from which both Miss Hope and I suffered for a while.  Also we got some good shooting on the road.  My only regret was that this change of plan obliged us to abandon the tusks of ivory we had captured from the slavers and buried where we alone could find them.

Still, it was a dull time for me, who, for obvious reasons, of which I have already spoken, was literally a fifth wheel to the coach.  Hans was an excellent fellow, and, as the reader knows, quite a genius in his own way, but night after night in Hans’s society began to pall on me at last, while even his conversation about my “reverend father,” who seemed positively to haunt him, acquired a certain sameness.  Of course, we had other subjects in common, especially those connected with Retief’s massacre, whereof we were the only two survivors, but of these I seldom cared to speak.  They were and still remain too painful.

Therefore, for my part I was thankful when at last, in Zululand, we fell in with some traders whom I knew, who hired us one of their wagons.  In this vehicle, abandoning the worn-out donkeys and the white ox, which we presented to a chief of my acquaintance, Brother John and the ladies proceeded to Durban, Stephen attending them on a horse that we had bought, while I, with Hans, attached myself to the traders.

At Durban a surprise awaited us since, as we trekked into the town, which at that time was still a small place, whom should we meet but Sir Alexander Somers, who, hearing that wagons were coming from Zululand, had ridden out in the hope of obtaining news of us.  It seemed that the choleric old gentleman’s anxiety concerning his son had so weighed on his mind that at length he made up his mind to proceed to Africa to hunt for him.  So there he was.  The meeting between the two was affectionate but peculiar.

“Hullo, dad!” said Stephen.  “Whoever would have thought of seeing you here?”

“Hullo, Stephen,” said his father.  “Whoever would have expected to find you alive and looking well—­yes, very well?  It is more than you deserve, you young ass, and I hope you won’t do it again.”

Having delivered himself thus, the old boy seized Stephen by the hair and solemnly kissed him on the brow.

“No, dad,” answered his son, “I don’t mean to do it again, but thanks to Allan there we’ve come through all right.  And, by the way, let me introduce you to the lady I am going to marry, also to her father and mother.”