The boy's spirits sank lower and lower as he checked his horse's pace to a canter, hushing the beat of its feet upon the soft sand as he rode on, seeing no one stirring, and at last, in the deepest despair, feeling as if he dare go no farther. But just at that moment a low crooning sound fell upon his ear, and the reaction was so sudden and so great that Dyke nearly shouted aloud as he pressed on to the door, feeling now that he had been letting his imagination run riot, and that there was nothing whatever the matter. In fact, that was his brother's tall gaunt horse grazing where it had been hidden from his sight by one of the low, shed-like buildings. "What a lot of stuff one can fancy!" said Dyke to himself. "Why, it's early yet, and poor old Joe hasn't got up. I'll give him such a rouser." The next minute he had pulled up, thrown his rein over the cob's head, as he dismounted, and ran to the open doorway from whence came the crooning sound. "Morning, Tant," he cried to the woman, who sat crouched together on the floor. Then as his eyes caught sight of the pallet in the corner of the room, he shouted: "Joe, old man, what is it? Are you ill?" "No makee noisy," cried the woman; "shoo, shoo, shoo. Baas Joe go die." CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. A TEST OF MANHOOD. Dyke uttered a cry of horror as he ran to the bedside and sank upon his knees, gazing wildly in his brother's dark, thin face, with its wild eyes, in which was no sign of recognition, though Emson kept on muttering in a low voice. "Joe--Joe, old fellow, don't you know me?" There was no reply, and in his agony of spirit Dyke caught his burning, dry hand, and pressed it. "Speak to me!" he cried. "How long have you been ill? What is it, Joe? Tell me. What am I to do?" No answer; but the muttering went on, and Dyke turned to the Kaffir woman. "How long has he been ill?" "Baas Joe go die," said the woman, nodding her head. "No, no; he will be better soon. When was he taken ill?" "Baas Joe go die," said the woman with horrible persistence. "No eat-- no drink--no sleep. Go die." "Go away!" cried Dyke wildly. "You are as bad as one of those horrible birds. Get out!" The woman smiled, for she did not understand a word. The gesture of pointing to the door was sufficient, and she went out, leaving the brothers alone. "Joe!" cried Dyke wildly. "Can't you speak to me, old chap? Can't you tell me what to do? I want to help you, but I am so stupid and ignorant. What can I do?" The muttering went on, and the big erst strong man slowly rolled his head from side to side, staring away into the past, and sending a chill of horror through the boy. For a few moments Dyke bowed his head right into his hands, and uttered a low groan of agony, completely overcome by the horror of his position--alone there in that wild place, five or six days' journey from any one, and hundreds of miles from a doctor, even if he had known where to go.