That Barlow was very angry over his failure to compel Oscar to purchase his outfit and supplies of him at the prices he set upon them was evident from the manner in which he ground his teeth and shook his fists in the air as he strode rapidly along.

He walked the whole length of the principal street, and finally turned toward a dilapidated Kaffir kraal, in the open door of which sat a young man, smoking a dingy pipe and watching a span of oxen that were feeding close at hand.

This was the "friend" of whose varied accomplishments as a hunter the cattle-dealer had spoken in terms so flattering; but if Oscar could have seen him he would have thought twice before consenting to take him as a companion on a long and perilous journey.

His appearance was against him. His face bore the traces of recent dissipation, and there was a swaggering, rowdyish air about him that would not have suited Oscar at all.

Close beside the kraal was the wagon that Barlow had tried so hard to force upon our hero, and a most disreputable affair it was. It had been newly painted, to conceal some of the numerous injuries it had received during the long years it had been in service; the dissel-boom and both the axle-trees were strengthened with strips of raw-hide; the canvas tent was torn and patched in a dozen places, and the chests and water-butts looked as though they were about to fall to pieces.

The oxen feeding close by, and which were a part of "the best outfit to be had in the colony," were a fit team for such a wagon as this, for they were in strict keeping with it.

A more forlorn and vicious-looking lot of brutes it would have been hard to find anywhere. The whole concern was not worth half the money Barlow had demanded for the wagon alone.

"Well, Thomas," said the cattle-dealer as soon as he came within speaking distance of his friend, "that little game is blocked."

Thomas uttered a rough exclamation and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. He looked disappointed as well as angry.

It was plain that these two worthies had hoped to make something handsome out of Oscar.

"Yes," continued Barlow, "it's blocked. I had thought to rope him in very easy, but he's much too knowing."

"I didn't expect any of the time that you could do anything with him," growled Thomas. "They say that those fellows from the other side the pond are awful sharp, and cut their eye-teeth early."

"And aren't we sharp, too, I'd like to know?" demanded Barlow. "He hasn't got out of the colony yet. I told him that I had seen more than one traveller break down before he got over the town hill, and we must see to it that he breaks down, too. Understand?"

"I think I do," answered Thomas, with a grin.

Thrusting his hand into the inside pocket of his coat, he took out a well-worn wallet and produced from it something that looked like a watch-spring.

"The teeth are pretty small, but they have cut through a heap of iron," said he, drawing the spring out to its full length.

"If you can give them a chance to cut into the Yankee's trek-tow it will be the best job they ever did for us," said Barlow. "If he buys his oxen and wagons of the farmers, and his supplies at Maritzburg, his outfit will be a splendid one, and breaking him down will be as good as finding a new diamond field. We're going to see fun in a few days. There's another chap in town—a colonel of something or other—who has been taken in hand by Harris and the rest of the boys. They have sold him a wagon and a span of oxen at a good price, and contracted to furnish him with supplies here in Durban. They have hired the right kind of men for him, and when he tries to climb the town hill he'll find himself in a fix. Won't they bleed him, though! I might have made a few pounds out of him," added the cattle-dealer, with a long-drawn sigh, "but I didn't bother with him, for I was sure I could manage this Yankee boy to suit me. No matter; he isn't out of our reach yet, and we'll make him open his eyes."

Meanwhile Oscar, all unconscious of the plans that were being laid against him, returned to Mr. Morgan's office, and reported the result of his interview with the cattle-dealer.

"Wouldn't it be a good plan for you to say a word to the colonel?" he asked, after he had told where and when he first met that gentleman. "You are a countryman of his, and might have some influence with him."

"I'll not go near him. He's a snob. His men will smash his wagon if they can't discourage him in any other way, and then desert him. You see if they don't. Now we will go to lunch, and after that we will ride out into the country to see a man who will sell you a wagon worth your money. He will sell you a span of oxen, too, but I would not advise you to buy of him,—and neither will he,—for you can do much better in Maritzburg."

When Oscar went to bed that night he was the owner of a ponderous Cape wagon, entirely new, and two salted horses, all of which had cost him £310.

He had taken a cordial leave of the editor, after thanking him for his advice and for the interest he had taken in the affairs of one who was an entire stranger to him, and at daylight the next morning seated himself in a post-cart and was driven rapidly toward Maritzburg.

He had also bargained with the farmer of whom he purchased his wagon and horses to haul his goods up from Port Natal.

With Mr. Morgan's aid he had secured a small pack of mongrel dogs, deerhounds, greyhounds, pointers, and curs, which was to be brought up with the wagon.

While on the way to Maritzburg Oscar saw something that made him think of his double-barrel, that was stowed away in his trunk under the seat. It was a flock of white-necked ravens. They sat on the trees by the roadside, and showed no signs of alarm as the post-cart dashed by so close to them that the driver could have touched them with his whip if he had made the attempt.

Oscar looked closely at them, noting the attitude of their bodies and the position in which their heads were held, so that he would know how to set up his specimens after he had shot them.

No sooner had Oscar reached his destination than he was surrounded by a new gang of cattle-dealers, who, having learned that he was going up the country, insisted on selling him an outfit.

But the boy dismissed them in the most unceremonious manner, and lost no time in hunting up Judge Donahue and Mr. McElroy.

These gentlemen received him with the greatest courtesy, and were untiring in their efforts to assist him. They superintended the buying of his provisions, hired for him men who they knew could be trusted, and selected a span of oxen which looked very unlike the one Barlow wanted to sell him.

His driver and fore-loper were Hottentots; his "boss"—who was also the interpreter and man-of-all-work—was a Kaffir, who spoke English well enough to make himself understood; and his cook was an Irishman, with a rich brogue and an inexhaustible fund of humor.

The Hottentots and Kaffir were engaged to go with Oscar wherever he went, and to return with him to Maritzburg; while the Irishman was to go no further than Leichtberg, in the Transvaal, where he expected to find relatives.

Paddy O'Brian was a genuine son of the Old Sod. He wore velveteen knee-breeches, long stockings, and hob-nail shoes, and carried all his worldly possessions tied up in a handkerchief, which, when travelling, he slung over his shoulder, on the end of a blackthorn stick that he had used in more than one faction fight.

He had never seen any animal more to be dreaded than a pugnacious billy-goat, and had never handled a gun, but he had for several months officiated as cook in the family of Judge Donahue, who recommended him as an honest, painstaking man, and one who would not let a hungry sportsman starve while waiting for his dinner.

He excited Oscar's mirth every hour in the day, especially when he addressed him as "me lord."

Although Paddy had kissed the blarney stone, there was no blarney about this. He thought that every man who came to Africa to hunt must of necessity be an English nobleman, for he did not believe that anybody else had money to spend in that way.

The offer of ten pounds for the faithful performance of his duties as cook almost took his breath away.

While Oscar was engaged in making ready for his departure two interesting incidents happened.

The first was the arrival of Barlow and his man Thomas, both of whom lived in Maritzburg. They came seated in their rattletrap of a wagon, and drawn by their span of crow-bait oxen, which acted all the time as if they were on the lookout for an excuse to become "rusty."

The driver's arms must have ached, for he was compelled to belabor them continually in order to keep them in motion.

Barlow and his man were not long in finding out how things were going, and when they saw Oscar's outfit, which was fully as expensive and as complete in all its details as any they had ever seen before, they became all the more determined that they would compel him to sell out, so that they could purchase it for a mere tithe of its value.

But they did not know how wary and resolute a boy they had to deal with.

Acting upon Judge Donahue's advice, Oscar put his oxen and horses into the pound every night, and taking Paddy O'Brian into his confidence, ordered him to sleep in the wagon.

Paddy, being always ready for a row, willingly complied, and it would have given him the greatest pleasure to break the head of anybody who ventured to tamper with that vehicle or its cargo.

One thing that amused Oscar exceedingly was the perseverance exhibited by his landlord in trying to "pump" him and his servants; but he got no satisfaction.

Oscar would not talk about his private affairs, and his men could not, for they knew nothing about them.

In fact, no one knew much about him or his business except the few gentlemen to whom he had been introduced, and he was looked upon by "outsiders" as a very mysterious person.

The other interesting incident of which we have spoken was the arrival of Colonel Dunhaven, who came in grand style, riding a fine horse, and closely followed by his body-servant, who rode another equally as good.

He had fared better at the hands of the cattle-dealers, so far as the appearance of his outfit was concerned, than Oscar thought he would.

His cattle, although they were not to be compared to Oscar's slick Zulus, were in a tolerably fair condition.

His wagon was a very good one, and he had servants enough for half a dozen hunters; but his head man looked too much like Thomas to be trusted.

The colonel galloped up to the porch, threw his reins to Roberts, and went into the hotel.