When Oscar arose the next morning and looked down into the stable-yard he saw that it was empty. The colonel's wagon had gone on toward Howick, and the colonel himself was in the parlor eating an early breakfast, preparatory to following it on horseback.

A glance at his own wagon, which stood in front of the supply store, on the other side of the street, showed him that the cattle-dealers were out in full force, and that those he had seen loitering about the hotel ever since he arrived there had been joined by Harris and the rest of the "boys" who had supplied Colonel Dunhaven with his outfit.

The sight of them did not trouble him, however, for Paddy O'Brian was sitting on the dissel-boom, with his stick in his hand, and the dogs were lying under the wagon.

"That would be a bad crowd for those rascals to meddle with," thought Oscar as he put on his clothes. "Paddy looks as though he could handle two or three ordinary men, and I am certain that there are some dogs in that pack that would just as soon take hold of a fellow as to let him alone. Indeed, I am afraid of them myself. There he goes!" added the young hunter as the colonel and his servant rode away from the hotel steps, neither of them paying the least attention to the boisterous farewells that were shouted at them by the cattle-dealers across the street. "I shall expect to hear from him in the course of two or three days."

Oscar heard from the colonel in less than one day—that very afternoon, in fact. While he was seated in the parlor he heard a heavy step in the barroom, and Barlow's voice addressing the landlord.

"That's one smash-up," said the cattle-dealer in a tone of exultation. "Harris and the rest of 'em worked it pretty slick on that English snob."

"What has happened?" inquired Mr. Dibbits.

"Trek-tow broke—that's all; and the colonel is up to the blacksmith shop getting it repaired, and swearing about the beastly hills we have here in Africa. I say, old fellow, we must break up that little Yankee in some way. He's got a splendid outfit, everything top-notch, and there's a pile of money in it if we can only make him sell out. Harris tried to bribe that Irishman of his to leave the wagon, but Paddy told him to hold his jaw and wouldn't stir a step."

Barlow went out, and Oscar laid down his pen and walked to the window. His wagon, fully loaded and ready for the start, had been backed under one of the sheds, and Paddy O'Brian sat at his ease on the dissel-boom, puffing at a short pipe, and blowing the smoke into the eyes and nostrils of the dogs whenever they showed a disposition to become too familiar. Oscar raised the window and called to him.

"Take off your caubeen, if that's what you call it in Irish," said he. "I've got something for you."

Paddy doffed his hat, and his employer tossed a couple of sovereigns into it.

"That isn't to be taken out of your wages, Paddy," Oscar explained. "It is a present from me. You may want to buy something for yourself or your sweetheart before we start. Judge Donahue tells me you have a sweetheart."

"Long life to your honor!" cried the Irishman as soon as he had recovered from his surprise.

"That is to reward you for being faithful to your trust," continued Oscar. "You see you didn't lose anything by refusing to take the bribe Harris offered you this morning."

Paddy began to understand the matter now. He backed away from the window, and, looking through the gateway, saw the man who had tried to bribe him passing along the street.

"There he is overbeyont. Say the worrud, your honor, an' I'll go an' bate him."

"No, no!" said Oscar quickly. "That would never do. The way for you to beat him is to keep a close watch over the wagon. Don't allow a stranger to go near it."

"Bedad, I won't, then," said Paddy.

He went back to the shed, and Oscar closed the window, but stood looking through it, watching the motions of his faithful servitor.

The latter took the money out of his hat, jingled it in his closed hands, and finally put it carefully away in his pocket. Then he jumped up and executed a wild Irish war-dance, at the same time whirling his stick viciously in the air and uttering suppressed whoops.

"The only thing that man needs now to make him supremely happy is a head to crack," thought Oscar as he went back to his writing. "I don't think it would be quite safe for anybody to make another attempt to bribe him."

Having completed and mailed his letters, Oscar went about his unfinished business, feeling perfectly satisfied that the care of his outfit had been committed to trusty hands.

Two or three times during the afternoon and evening he heard from Colonel Dunhaven through Judge Donahue, who told him that the man who knew so much about travelling in Africa that he would not ask advice of anybody was having an exceedingly hard time of it.

His oxen, after breaking the trek-tow faster than the blacksmith could mend it, had at last turned "rusty" and run the wagon into an ant-bear's hole, in which it was so hopelessly "stalled" that it would take an extra span of oxen to draw it out.

"But even if he finds anybody who is accommodating enough to haul him out on hard ground, he will not be any better off than he is now," added the judge. "His whole rigging has been sawed into, and if the town hill does not prove to be an obstacle he cannot get over, the Drackenberg will."

The next morning Oscar dressed himself in one of the moleskin suits he had purchased in England and packed his trunk, which was stowed away in the wagon.

He had ordered his driver to start for Howick at an early hour, and when he went downstairs he found everything in readiness for inspanning as soon as the oxen were brought from the pound.

His interpreter and the two Hottentots had gone after them. Paddy O'Brian occupied his usual seat on the dissel-boom, twirling his stick in one hand and holding fast to a saddled horse with the other. Oscar opened the window and Paddy got upon his feet.

"Good-morning to your honor!" he exclaimed. "An' can I go now, I dunno?"

"Yes, go on," answered Oscar. "But be sure and join the wagon when you hear it go by the house."

Paddy got into the saddle and rode off to pay his last visit to his sweetheart, and to present her with a few trifles he had purchased with the two sovereigns he had earned by his devotion to duty.

Barlow, who was always on the watch, saw him ride out of the gate, and, believing that the wagon was left unguarded, made all haste to send his man Thomas into the stable-yard to operate on the trek-tow with his saw. But Oscar, who was on the watch, detected him in the act, and defeated his plans, as we have already described.

While the boy stood at the window Colonel Dunhaven, utterly disgusted with his short experience of African life, came into the room, and after using some pretty strong language regarding the country and Oscar's business in it, began to talk of selling out and going home.

Our hero had a long conversation with him, and during its progress the colonel was amazed to learn that the humble American youth had brought with him letters from some of the best known men in England.

Then his icy reserve melted, and he was as affable as one could wish; but he did not succeed in working his way into Oscar's good graces. It was too late. The boy, as we have said, had seen quite enough of him.

"When I saw you with those cattle-dealers in Durban I knew that you were going to be cheated," said Oscar as he and the colonel seated themselves. "I tried to make you understand it, but you told me, in effect, that it was none of my business. One of those men behind us tried to force a most inferior outfit on me, and threatened to prosecute me because I declined to be imposed upon. Did you examine your trek-tow to see if anybody had been fooling with it?"

"No," said the colonel in surprise.

"You ought to have done so. I know that you are a victim of treachery."

"I know that, also. Didn't I tell you that my servants had deserted me, and that my cattle and horses had been allowed to stray away?"

"The men from whom you purchased your outfit are responsible for all that. They intend to keep you here if they possibly can."

"And for what purpose, pray?" asked the colonel, still more astonished.

"They want to force you to sell your goods back to them for a good deal less than you gave for them. I know what I am talking about, for I have heard stories of their villainy told by a dozen different gentlemen who are acquainted with their way of doing business."

Just at that moment, as if to corroborate these words, Barlow approached and laid his hand familiarly on the colonel's shoulder.

The surprised Englishman quickly brought his eyeglass to a focus and stared up at him as if he meant to annihilate him by his angry glances.

"Fellow!" he vociferated, promptly shaking off the cattle-dealer's hand.

"No offence, sir," said Barlow, who, having an eye to prospective profits, could not afford to make the colonel angry. "I heard you say something just now about selling out."

"And if I did speak of it what's that to you, I would like to know?" demanded the colonel angrily.

"It is just this much to me," answered Barlow in his free-and-easy way. "If you want to sell out I am the man you are looking for. I want a rig just like yours, and a wagon-load of supplies; and if you are open for a bargain I will make you an offer now, and pay you cash in hand."

"I decline to exchange any more words with you," said the colonel.

"Well, think it over, then, will you, and let me know what you decide to do. Remember, I want the first chance."

The Englishman made no reply. He turned his back to the cattle-dealer, and, taking off his eyeglass, thrust it into his pocket with a rather vicious movement.

"What did I tell you?" said Oscar when Barlow had gone back to his companions at the bar. "That man is probably working for the ones of whom you bought your outfit. They are all in league, and don't mean to let you get over the town hill if they can help it."

"I don't see how you have escaped their persecutions," said the colonel.

"I haven't escaped them altogether. I saw a man in the act of cutting into one of the links of my trek-tow just now, but when I went out to catch him the landlord, or some other friend of his, warned him, and he got safely off. He did the chain no damage, however, for I gave him no time. I bought a good outfit all through—and I'll warrant it didn't cost me as much money as you paid for yours—and after I got it I kept watch over it night and day."

"I don't know what to do," said the colonel, looking down at the floor in a brown study. "My wagon is in a terrible fix, but I don't like to give up."

"I wouldn't give up," said Oscar promptly. "If I were in your place, I should go back to the wagon. It must be watched every minute, and your man Roberts can't stand guard all day and all night too. He must be relieved, so that he can get some sleep. I shall be detained in town until one o'clock, probably, and then I shall go on after my wagon, and spend the rest of the night with it. To-morrow we will put our two teams together and see what they can do. What do you think of the proposition?"

The colonel thought it a good one, and was glad to accept it. Acting upon Oscar's suggestion, he ordered out his horse and rode away.

The boy watched him as long as he remained in sight, frequently saying to himself:

"I knew I would some day have a chance to get even with him, but I didn't think it would come so soon."