We wish we could say that from this time forward Oscar prosecuted his journey without any mishap, but such was not the case. Accidents of all kinds were of almost daily occurrence, and that was no more than one could expect in a country in which the roads are left to take care of themselves, and are passable only for the strongest of wagons, drawn by teams the most powerful.

Before the foot of the Drackenberg Mountains was reached Oscar had fashioned three new dissel-booms with his own hands, and the trek-tow had been repaired more than once. But there was something of which he no longer stood in fear, and that was treachery. His men were all capable, honest, and willing, and never shirked their share of the work.

Before attempting the ascent of the dreaded Drackenberg Oscar off-loaded and had his wagon thoroughly overhauled by a blacksmith.

He afterward told himself that it was well he did so, for he found the pass to be the worst place he ever got into. His own oxen alone never could have pulled his heavy wagon up that steep incline.

But, as good luck would have it, he came up with a couple of Dutch farmers, who had spent two days in camp at the foot of the mountains, smoking their pipes, and looking first at the pass and then at their wagons, and trying to make up their minds whether or not they could reach the top with two teams to each vehicle.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Oscar found them. He immediately out-spanned a little distance away, and, in company with his interpreter, went over to invite the Boers to drink coffee with him; but, to his surprise, the men flatly refused to have anything to do with him.

"What's the matter with them, Thompson?" asked Oscar.

"They say they don't like Englishmen, and won't drink coffee with them," answered the interpreter.

"But I am not an Englishman," said Oscar. "Ask them if they ever heard of America. I don't suppose they ever did," he added to himself.

In this the boy was happily mistaken. The Boers could not understand all he said (it turned out afterward that they were by no means as ignorant of the English language as they pretended to be), but they caught the word "America," and straightway began to exhibit a lively interest in our hero—that is, as lively an interest as men of their temperament could exhibit in anything.

They took their pipes out of their mouths and looked at him, while something that was doubtless intended for a smile overspread their faces.

When the boy walked up and offered them his hand they took it and shook it cordially.

"Now, Thompson, ask them again if they will come over and have some coffee," said Oscar.

The men did not refuse this time. A Boer is very fond of coffee, and although there are few of them who will spend any of their own money for it, they are quite willing to drink it when it is provided at the expense of somebody else.

Oscar's guests emptied their cups almost as fast as Paddy O'Brian could fill them, and poured the hot liquid down their throats in a way that made that worthy individual open his eyes.

"Now, Thompson," said Oscar when the huge coffee-pot had been drained of its last drop, "tell them that if they will help me pull my wagon over the Drackenberg I will help them pull theirs over."

This was a very plain and simple proposition, and it seemed as though anybody ought to have understood it; but it was evident that the Boers did not.

When Big Thompson repeated his employer's words to them in Dutch they arose from their seats, went a little way from the wagon, and held a long and earnest consultation.

Then they came back, and, through the interpreter, asked that the proposal might be repeated. This they did so many times that Oscar began to be provoked, and to wonder at their stupidity.

He afterward learned that this way of doing business was characteristic of the Dutch farmers. They never would accept any offer until they had consulted with some of their friends, and it was impossible to hurry them.

Oscar's guests, although they were anxious to get over the mountains, were fully half an hour in making up their minds whether or not they would accept the proposition that had been made them; but they did accept it at last, and after the bargain had been ratified by another pot of coffee, liberally sweetened, they went back to their camp, and Oscar proceeded at once to inspan. Half an hour afterward his wagon moved off, drawn by thirty-six oxen, and began the toilsome ascent.

It was ten hours' hard work to reach the summit. Strong and willing as most of the oxen were, they could not draw the heavy vehicle more than fifty feet without stopping to take breath, and then it was necessary that the wheels should be blocked with large stones, the brakes not being powerful enough to hold them.

While Oscar was toiling up the pass behind one of the wheels, carrying in his arms a stone weighing between twenty and thirty pounds, one of the Boers, similarly provided, following close behind the other, he often thought of Colonel Dunhaven, and wondered what the man who had been ready to give up in despair because his wagon had been "stalled" on level ground would have thought of such work as this.

There was danger in it, too, as Oscar learned before he had gone a great way, for whenever they reached a particularly bad portion of the road, where the rocks arose on one side and a gulf yawned on the other, the Boer, who had by this time found out that he could talk a little English, was sure to remark that a wagon had gone over there only a short time before.

If Oscar's had gone over it would have taken a good many cattle with it unless the trek-tow broke; but, fortunately, no accident happened.

The skilful drivers—there were two of them besides Oscar's—accomplished the ascent in safety, and at last the summit of the pass was reached.

There a breathing spell was taken and more coffee drank, after which the Boers unhitched their oxen, leaving Oscar to take care of himself.

In two hours more his wagon was standing in the edge of a grassy plain, and Oscar was sleeping soundly in his cot, while Paddy O'Brian nodded over his pipe, and the Hottentots toiled back over the mountain to assist the Boers.

About noon Oscar awoke, feeling perfectly refreshed, and, drawing aside the fly of his tent, took a look at the dreaded Drackenberg by daylight.

It had been a bugbear to him from the start, and he had repeatedly been warned that, unless he were possessed of an unusual amount of pluck and determination, his journey would end when he reached it.

But it had been passed in safety, thanks to the friendly Boers, and it was a relief to him to know that he need not bother his head about it again, for a year at least.

Two days afterward Oscar reached Harrismith, and after outspanning below the town he climbed the hill and made inquiries for Mr. Hutchinson, to whom he had letters of introduction.

That gentleman said he was glad to see him, gave him a large package of letters and papers which Mr. Donahue had forwarded by post-cart, and invited him to dinner.

Oscar looked first at his letters and then at his clothes—which were beginning to show signs of wear—and wondered how he could decline the invitation.

"Never mind your clothes," said Mr. Hutchinson—a jolly old gentleman who reminded Oscar of his friend Captain Sterling. "We don't expect hunters to look as though they had just come out of some lady's bandbox."

"I am greatly obliged to you, sir," replied Oscar; "but when I tell you that these are the first letters I have received from home since leaving Maritzburg I know you will not press the matter."

"Oh, oh—of course! Then say to-morrow—to-morrow evening at six, sharp."

Oscar accepted this invitation, and, picking up his package, hurried down the hill.

"Dinner at six," thought he as he quickened his pace almost to a run. "These English cling to their old-time customs wherever they go. I wouldn't delay the reading of these letters for the sake of all the dinners that were ever served up."

The wagon seemed to be a long way off; but Oscar reached it at last, and throwing himself upon his cot, tore open the package, and began sorting out its contents.

He found there several letters from his mother; others from Sam Hynes, Leon Parker, Captain Sterling, and Mr. Donahue.

The letters were long and full of news, and Oscar became so deeply interested in reading them that he did not know that Paddy O'Brian had twice called him to dinner.

"I don't want anything to eat," said he when Paddy had at last succeeded in attracting his attention by thumping the fore-chest with his stick. "I have something better on hand."

Oscar had not gone very far into his third letter before he felt as homesick as Leon Parker did when he found himself, friendless and alone, in the fort at Julesburg. A lump rose up in his throat, a mist gathered before his eyes, and, throwing down the letter, he sprang off his cot and rushed out of the wagon. It seemed to him that he would suffocate if he stayed in there a moment longer.

"Paddy," he exclaimed, "put the saddle on Little Gray!"

"And don't ye want any dinner at all at all?" asked the cook.

"No, I don't. Hurry up!"

Paddy made all haste to obey, and then stood and looked wonderingly after his employer, who, as soon as he was fairly seated on Little Gray's back, set off over the plain as if all the lions in Africa were close at his heels.