Dinner was served at six o'clock in the evening. It took almost an hour to eat it, and when it had been disposed of the captain was ready for business, as Oscar thought he would be. He conducted his guest to the library, and said, as he filled and lighted his well-blackened pipe:

"Now, then, my boy, what are your plans? Be explicit, so that I may know just how I can aid you."

Oscar replied by repeating his written instructions, which he had read so often that he knew them by heart.

"All right, so far," said the captain approvingly. "Now where's your ordnance?"

"In my trunk," answered Oscar.

"In your trunk?" repeated the captain, opening his eyes and looking up at his own tried and trusted "battery" on the walls. "It must be rather smaller than mine, or else your trunk is larger than any I ever heard of. Go and get it; I want to look at it."

Oscar left the room, and presently returned with his little fowling-piece in one hand and his Sharp's rifle in the other. The captain took the double-barrel and looked critically into the muzzle of it.

"This will answer for Namaqua partridges—nothing else," said he. "By the way, those birds may prove to be the best friends you will have when you reach your hunting-grounds. If you are in want of water, and see a flock of them on the wing, note the direction in which they go and follow them, and you will be sure to find a spring. They never stray far away from water, for they must have it twice a day."

The captain handed back the double-barrel and took the rifle, looking carefully at that also, to see how large the bore was.

"This will do for spring-buck," said he; "but an eland or a wilde-beest (naturalists call it a gnu) wouldn't stop for half a dozen such balls as this weapon carries. Go and get the rest."

"These are all I have," answered Oscar.

"All!" vociferated the captain. "And do you think of going into the wilds of Africa with only two guns, and pop-guns at that? Why, you might as well commit suicide and have done with it."

"This rifle has bowled over some of the largest game in America," said Oscar. "It killed a grizzly bear with one ball as dead as if he had been struck by lightning."

"A chance shot, undoubtedly. I have killed an elephant with a single bullet, and a man-eating tiger also—the one that wore the skin on which you are standing; but such things happen only once in a lifetime."

"There was no 'chance' about my shot, sir," replied Oscar, rather proudly. "I aimed for his spine, and there was the place I hit him. It was a good shot, and it was made under the most trying circumstances. If I had missed my guide would have been torn in pieces before my eyes, and I should have been left to find my way back to civilization as best I could."

"Well, you will never go to Africa with that battery by my advice," said the captain. "In order to do good work you must have good weapons; and as your life may some time depend on the way in which they do their duty, it stands you in hand to mind what you are about. You must have at least three heavier rifles for yourself—you may lose or break one, you know—and a Martini-Henry carbine for each of your servants. We will go down to Birmingham to-morrow and get them. Now sit down and tell me about your fight with that grizzly bear."

Oscar often thought of the pleasant evening he passed in that library. The old hunter was full of stories, and every one he told contained some scraps of valuable information which Oscar treasured up in his memory for future use.

The hours flew rapidly by, and it was ten o'clock before he knew it. He began to wonder why his host did not say something about going to bed; but the latter talked as rapidly as ever, until a servant opened the door to announce that supper was ready.

Having never been accustomed to eating at that hour of the night, Oscar did not make a very hearty meal; but the captain went to work manfully, and no one would have supposed, from the way the eatables disappeared before his attacks, that he had eaten dinner only five hours before.

It was two o'clock before Oscar went to his room, and ten by his watch when he awoke.

He put on his clothes with all haste, wondering the while why somebody had not called him in time for breakfast; but when he went downstairs he learned that his host had not yet left his bed, and that breakfast would not be ready for more than an hour.

True to his promise, the captain accompanied his guest to Birmingham that afternoon, and picked out some weapons for him—three heavy breech-loading Express rifles, with interchangeable shot barrels, one ponderous muzzle-loading rifle, carrying twelve bullets to the pound, and six carbines.

Besides these there was a case of cheap muskets, which were to be used in trading for any curiosities which Oscar thought the committee would like to see in the museum.

The carbines and muskets were shipped to London, where they were to remain until Oscar was ready to start for the Cape, and the rifles he took to Somerset with him.

That evening while they were seated at the dinner-table the captain said, with as much enthusiasm as a school-boy would have exhibited:

"That much is done, and to-morrow we'll take a run up into Argyleshire. I have some intimate friends up there who are acquainted at the Cape, and in Durban, Maritzburg, Zurnst—in fact, all through the country; and from them we'll get a letter or two that will make friends for you among the Africanders. While they are writing them you and I will look over their preserves, and throw a hook into their well-stocked lakes. Sleep lightly to-night, for I warn you that I shall have you up in the morning at a most uncomfortably early hour."

When morning came Oscar found that what was called an early hour in England would have been called a very late hour in America.

He was up and dressed at five o'clock, and took himself to task for sleeping so long; but it was eight before the captain made his appearance, nine when breakfast was served, and eleven when they set out for Argyleshire.

The two succeeding days were spent in fly-fishing and "fagging after grouse," as the captain termed it.

Although our hero was not much of a fly-fisher, he was an adept at shooting on the wing, and his companions were loud in their praises of the clean and handsome manner in which he cut down his birds.

He made the acquaintance of a good many gentlemen, some of whom were old East Indian soldiers and sportsmen, and acquainted in America as well as at the Cape, and from them he received letters which proved to be of the greatest assistance to him.

Oscar thoroughly enjoyed himself during his short sojourn among the highlands, for the company into which he was thrown was most agreeable, the shooting excellent, the game being strictly preserved, and he would have been glad to remain longer, but duty called him, and he was obliged to heed the call.

On the Thursday following his arrival at the lodge he took leave of his kind hostess, and in company with the captain, who took as much interest in the matter as he would if he had been going to Africa himself, set out for London, where he spent two very busy weeks in purchasing an outfit.

The captain proved to be an invaluable assistant, and although Oscar could not see the use of half the articles he selected for him, he afterward found that there was not a single useless thing in the whole collection.

Some idea of the size of his outfit and of the money he must have spent during those two weeks may be gained when we say that he had, among a good many other heavy and bulky things, fifteen thousand rounds of ammunition—seventy-five pounds of powder, three hundred pounds of lead and as many of shot of different sizes—and that, when the outfit was boxed and ready for shipment, it weighed over eight thousand pounds.

Having secured his berth and ticket and taken a receipt from the purser, showing that his goods had been safely stowed away on board the steamer that was to take them to the Cape, Oscar took the next day to look about the city.

Eleven o'clock was the hour set for sailing, and long before that time he and the captain were seated on the steamer's deck, where all was bustle and confusion.

Porters and cabmen jostled one another, stevedores were shouting themselves hoarse in giving orders to their perspiring gangs; careless passengers were searching frantically for missing luggage, and in little retired nooks and corners, out of earshot of the gay, laughing groups around them, could be seen a wife taking a tearful leave of a husband, or a father and mother bidding a fond farewell to a son going out into the world to seek his fortune.

Presently the captain of the steamer took his stand upon the bridge, bells began to ring, and a shudder ran through the mighty craft as the donkey engines were set in motion and began the work of warping her out of her berth toward the entrance to the dock.

Captain Sterling, who was continually thinking of some important thing which he had neglected to say to his young friend, talked incessantly, all the while looking about among the passengers in the hope of finding a familiar face.

"If I could only run across just one friend for you to talk to it would shorten the voyage by a good many miles," said he; "but they are all strangers to me. However, you will not long want for company. Don't expect too much of sea-sick people. At least wait until you leave Madeira before you denounce them as a boorish, unsociable set."

At last Gravesend was reached, and there the steamer paused for a few moments to take breath and summon her strength for the run down the Channel—at least, that was what Oscar's companion said.

A hoarse voice, which sounded like the sigh of a tired nor'wester, shouted, "All ashore!" whereupon the kissing and hand-shaking between friends and relatives who were about to separate were repeated, and the passengers made a rush for the gangway.

"Good-by, my dear boy! My heart goes with you, and if I had a few years less on my shoulders I should go with you in person."

The kind-hearted old fellow's voice was husky, and there was a suspicious look about his eyes, as he took Oscar's hand in both his own, and wrung it energetically. His short acquaintance with Oscar had affected him just as the blast of a bugle affects a superannuated cavalry horse.

It had brought back the memory of old times to him so vividly that he almost fancied he was young again.

"Good-by, captain!" said Oscar, whose own voice was none of the steadiest. "I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am to you for the services you have rendered me. I could not have got along without you. How can I ever repay you for your great kindness?"

"You can do it by making a success of your expedition. I want you to do that, so that I can take some credit to myself. Don't give up; whatever happens, don't give up. I assure you I shall not forget you; and I don't want you to forget me, either. Drop me a line as often as you are within reach of a post-office. You can send me a letter every two or three weeks until you reach Zurnst. If you go beyond that place you will disappear as completely from the gaze of the civilized world as though you had ceased to live. You will see nobody except your servants, and perhaps a few wandering bushmen, who will be glad to give you a drink of water from their ostrich shells in return for a few mouthfuls of dried meat. Good-by—good-by!"

The bells rang again, the last of the visitors ran for the gang-plank, the screw began to revolve, and the huge vessel swung around until her bow pointed down the Channel. Oscar was off for Africa at last.