I was stopped by a surprised look in her face. Her eyes had opened somewhat, as I had delivered myself of the above rather lame declamation. Yet I had spoken with quite an unwonted degree of warmth, when contrasted with my ordinary laconic way of expressing myself. "Good Lord!" I thought, "I seem to be getting sentimental. No wonder she thinks I've got softening of the brain." But if she thought so she gave no sign of anything of the sort. On the contrary her tone was kind and sympathetic, as she said: "Strange how little we can enter into the lives of others. Now yours, I suppose, is lonely enough at times." "Oh, I've nothing to complain of," I answered with a laugh, anxious to dispel any impression of sentimentality which my former words and tone might have set up. "I started on this sort of life young, and have been at it in one way or another ever since. It hasn't used me badly, either." She looked at me, with that straight, clear glance, and again a little smile that was rather enigmatical, hovered around her lips. But before she could say anything, even if she had intended to, Falkner's voice was raised in front. "Wake up, Aida, and come along. I'm just going to heave Arlo in." "No. You're not to," she cried hurrying forward. The others had already reached the waterhole, and there was Falkner, on the rock brink, holding on to Arlo, grinning mischievously. The dog was licking his hands, and whining softly, his tail agitating in deprecatory wags. He wasn't in the least anxious for the plunge--and speaking personally I should have been uncommonly sorry to have undertaken to make him take it against his will, but then Falkner was one of the family. Now there was a half playful scrimmage between him and his cousin, in the result of which Arlo was rescued from taking what really was rather a high leap, and frisked and gambolled around us in delight. This waterhole or pool, was rather a curious one. It filled a cup-like basin about twenty-five yards across, surrounded by precipitous rocks save at the lower end, and here, overflowing, it trickled down to join the Tugela, about half a mile distant. It was fed from a spring from above, which flowed down a gully thickly festooned with maidenhair fern. Where we now stood, viz. at the highest point, there was a sheer drop of about twenty feet to the surface of the water--a high leap for a dog, though this one had done it two or three times and had come to no harm. The hole was of considerable depth, and right in the centre rose a flat-headed rock. It was a curious waterhole, as I said, and quite unique, and I more than suspected, though I could never get anything definite out of them, that the natives honoured it with some sort of superstitious regard. Incidentally it held plenty of coarse fish, of no great size, likewise stupendous eels--item of course mud-turtles galore. "Hie in, old dog! Hie in!" cried Falkner.