As Oscar's freight was all booked for Cape Town, it was necessary that it should go through the custom-house before it could be reshipped on the Ivanhoe, the little coasting steamer that was to convey the young hunter and his outfit to Port Natal.

In superintending this transfer Oscar was kept busy, for he was on deck from the time his goods were taken out of the steamer's hold until the Ivanhoe's hatches were closed over them.

Then he secured his bunk on board the coasting vessel, and, being free from care and anxiety, was at liberty to accept some of the numerous invitations he had received from those of the steamer's passengers who called Cape Town their home.

He dined with one, ate an eleven o'clock supper with another, and at three in the morning was sleeping soundly in his bunk, while the Ivanhoe was skimming over a dark and threatening sea, with a lowering sky above her, and a strong southerly gale howling through her rigging. But the day dawned bright and clear, and at an early hour Oscar was on deck.

The change from the roomy deck of the steamship to his cramped quarters on board the coasting vessel was not a pleasant one, and neither were his fellow-passengers as agreeable as those of whom he had just taken leave, and in whose company he had passed so many happy hours.

They were a boisterous, good-natured crowd, and acted more like Western men than any he had before met on that side of the Atlantic.

The most of them were roughly dressed, and some carried riding-whips in their hands. They did not seem to be very favorably impressed with the appearance of Colonel Dunhaven (who came on deck about midday, languid and sleepy-looking as usual), for the remarks they made concerning him, some of which he must have overheard, were anything but complimentary.

The colonel looked at Oscar through his eyeglass, but did not seem to recognize him.

"That man has certainly mistaken his calling," thought Oscar as he leaned on the rail and looked down into the water. "He hasn't energy enough to carry him through. If he is so helpless now that he has to have a man to wait on him continually, what will he do when he starts on his journey? He would look nice swinging a heavy ox-whip and wading about in mud, knee-deep, wouldn't he?"

The Ivanhoe came to anchor twice before reaching her destination—once at Port Elizabeth, where some of the passengers who were bound for the diamond fields left her, and the next time at East London.

The captain made all haste to transact his business at the latter town, for the open roadstead in which his vessel was anchored was a dangerous place.

Although there was scarcely any wind stirring, and the sea was comparatively smooth, the surf rolled wildly on the beach, and it was a mystery to Oscar how the boats ever got through it.

Besides, there was a suspicious-looking bank of clouds off in the southern horizon, of which the captain and his mates kept close watch.

There was wind in those clouds, but it did not touch the Ivanhoe. She reached Port Natal in safety, and Oscar made all haste to get ashore, his long sea-voyage being happily ended.

He had accomplished the easiest part of his undertaking. Perils, privations, and discouragements were yet to come.

The next day Oscar handed an invoice of his goods to the custom-house officers, and having obtained a permit to land his guns, and seen all his boxes and bales put safely under lock and key, he took his seat in a post-cart, and, in company with the colonel, his body-servant, and two other passengers, was whirled away toward the town of Durban, which lay three miles inland from Port Natal.

Here he was to deliver two of his letters of introduction, which were addressed to Mr. Morgan, the editor of the leading newspaper.

As it was late in the afternoon, he decided to wait until the next morning before he sought out Mr. Morgan.

Having registered his name, and seen his trunk carried to his room, he walked out on the porch, where he was accosted by a "horsey" looking individual, who held a riding-whip in his hand.

Oscar had caught a momentary glimpse of the man when he alighted from the post-cart, and knew, as soon as he laid his eyes upon him, that he belonged to a class with whom Captain Sterling had frequently and earnestly warned him to have nothing to do.

He was a cattle-dealer and speculator—a human shark, who profited by the misfortunes of others.

His first words indicated that he had been looking at the register.

"You're from America, I believe," said he with easy familiarity.

Oscar replied that he was.

"Big nation that, and fine people in it, too. Going up the country?"

"I think some of it," Oscar replied.

"Are you going far up?" asked the man.

"Beyond Zurnst, probably; that is, if I can get there," replied Oscar, taking possession of a chair, and depositing his feet on the railing.

The man opened his eyes and began to look earnest. He ascended the steps, and, taking up a chair, seated himself by the boy's side.

"Are you a clerk?" was his next question.

"No, I'm not a clerk."

"Sportsman, then, most likely?"

"In a small way."

"Then I am just the man you want to see," said the cattle-dealer. "You'll need a wagon, a span of oxen, half a dozen salted horses, and a big lot of supplies."

Oscar said he knew that.

"Well, it's my business to furnish those things to gentlemen who are going up the country, and I will fit you out in good shape without the least trouble to yourself. I have a good, strong wagon—the best in the country—with canvas tent and all complete."

"What is it worth?" asked Oscar.

"A hundred and twenty-five pounds."

"How much do you ask for your oxen?"

"Fifteen pounds apiece."

"Got any salted horses?"

"Plenty of them, and they are worth a hundred each. They are fine runners and good, steady hunters, used to elephants, lions, buffalo, and all that sort of game. You'll be wanting dogs, too," said the man, who began to think he had struck a gold mine.

"Yes; but I don't expect to pay much for them."

"Oh, you'll have to if you get good hunters! You want experienced and well-broken dogs, of course, for green ones would run away the moment they caught sight of big game, and leave you to shift for yourself. Suppose you come over and take a look at that fine outfit."

"I don't believe I care to bother with it to-day. There is no use in rushing things, and I want to rest this afternoon."

"There's no time like the present," said the cattle-dealer earnestly. "Somebody may get the start of you if you don't close the bargain at once, for of course I shall sell to the first man who will give me my price."

"All right," replied Oscar indifferently; "sell if you get the chance. I suppose there is more than one outfit to be had in Durban."

"No, there isn't. Mine is the only good one there is left. It is true there are some rattletrap wagons and broken-down oxen to be had at high prices, but no gentleman would be seen riding after such a turnout. Why, even the Hottentots would laugh at him. Besides," added the man, speaking in a low, confidential tone, "there are a good many swindlers here."

Oscar said he knew that, too.

"They'll sell you a patched-up and freshly painted wagon for a new one, and for salted horses they'll offer you green ones, that have never been further up the country than Maritzburg. If you will take my advice you will come and secure that bargain now."

Just then voices sounded in the hall, and Colonel Dunhaven came out, accompanied by three or four cattle-dealers, the indefatigable body-servant bringing up the rear.

As they passed down the steps Oscar caught enough of their conversation to satisfy him that the colonel had been successfully "roped in."

"There," exclaimed Oscar's companion, "your friend is caught! Those men are all swindlers, and they will cheat him out of his eye-teeth."

"He's no friend of mine," said Oscar.

"Why, you came up in the same post-cart, and went into the hotel together."

"That may be; but still he is not my friend. I am alone."

"You are?" exclaimed the cattle-dealer, who was really astonished. "Do you mean to say that you are going so far up the country all by yourself? You can't do it. You will need a first-class man for a companion and adviser. I know one—a brave fellow, a splendid rider, and a dead shot—who will be glad to go with you. I'll engage him if you say so."

"Not to-day," answered Oscar. "I shall need all the things of which you have spoken, but I say again that I'm in no hurry to get them."

"Well, think over what I have said, and let me know what you conclude to do, will you?" said the man, rising from his chair.

He was growing uneasy. Some of his friends had caught a pigeon that they were going to pluck, and he wanted to have a hand in the proceeding.

"Yes," said Oscar; "I'll think of it."

"All right. Remember that that is a promise between gentlemen, and that I am to have the first chance."

"Gentlemen!" thought Oscar as the cattle-dealer sprang down the steps and walked rapidly in the direction in which his friends had gone with the colonel. "I wonder if he calls himself one? My friend Dunhaven has put his foot in it, sure! I wonder that he doesn't go to some of his countrymen here who are experienced, and ask them to assist him in selecting an outfit."

If Oscar had been better acquainted with the colonel he would not have wondered at it at all.

That gentleman cherished the same opinion now that he did while he was fooling about on the plains. He thought he was fully posted in everything relating to hunting and travelling, and his insufferable egotism and self-conceit would not permit him to ask advice of anybody.

But a few days' experience with unruly cattle, saucy drivers, bad roads, and African treachery changed all this, and he was glad to accept favors at the hands of the boy he had so unmercifully snubbed.

The next morning Oscar despatched a messenger to Mr. Morgan's office with his letters of introduction, and a note similar to the one he had written to Captain Sterling.

Half an hour later the editor answered that note in person. He was profoundly astonished when he saw Oscar, and like everybody else who knew what object he had in view in coming to Africa, gave it as his opinion that our hero was altogether too young in years to engage in any such hazardous enterprise.

But he received him very cordially. He ordered Oscar's trunk to be taken to his house, then led him away to his office.

After conversing with him for an hour or more, and drawing from him all his plans and a short history of his former exploits, Mr. Morgan said:

"You seem to be very confident, my lad, and I glory in your unalterable determination to go through in spite of every difficulty. You are the first American who has ever come here on an expedition of this kind. You would have the hardest kind of work before you even if everybody felt friendly toward you and was willing to lend you a helping hand; but, unfortunately, such is not the case. You will find treachery on all sides of you so long as you remain in the settlement. To begin with, steer clear of all cattle-dealers. Don't let one of them approach you."

"I have already been approached by one of them, who assured me that he had the only serviceable outfit that was to be found in Durban," replied Oscar.

"You didn't buy it?" cried the editor.

"No, sir! Captain Sterling told me to look out for them," said Oscar, who then went on to tell of his interview with the cattle-dealer.

"What sort of looking fellow was he?"

The boy described him.

"That's Barlow," said Mr. Morgan. "He and the most of the gang he runs with live in Maritzburg, and bigger scoundrels never went unhanged."

Oscar thought of the colonel, and made the mental resolution that he would warn him against the cattle-dealers as soon as he could find opportunity to go back to the hotel.