Warley soon caught Ella's horse, and then went in search of his own, which he found grazing quietly at the distance of two or three hundred yards. They mounted and galloped off in quest of Wilmore and Gilbert, encountering them and the Basutos in attendance in about half an hour, and finding them greatly vexed at their ill success. The giraffes had galloped up the side of a long slope of hill, which gave them so great an advantage, that when the horsemen reached the summit of the range, the herd were quite out of sight, and after several ineffectual attempts to regain the scent, they were obliged to abandon the pursuit. They heard of Ella's and Ernest's success with equal surprise and satisfaction, and hurrying off in the direction indicated, were soon engaged in flaying the hides off both animals, as well as in selecting the choicest morsels of the camelopard's flesh to supply the Queen's table. Late in the evening the party returned to the kraal, where they were welcomed by the Queen and De Walden, who questioned them as to what had taken place during the hunt. But neither Ella nor Warley seemed inclined to say more than they could help on the subject. The truth was, that a feeling of mutual liking had been growing up between the two since the first day of their meeting; when the princess had owed her life to Warley's promptitude. The attachment was little to be wondered at under the circumstances. Warley was now in his one-and-twentieth year--a fine well-grown young man, with a face of rare intelligence. He was the first Englishman who had come under Ella's notice; and when contrasted with the dark-skinned and coarse-visaged Basutos, he seemed like a being from some higher sphere. On the other hand, Ella's rare grace and beauty, her exquisite simplicity and frankness, were the qualities most likely to captivate a youth of Ernest's imaginative temperament; and the wild freedom of the life, by which they were surrounded, only added to the charm. But though he was conscious of the fascination, which was daily growing stronger, Warley felt perplexed and uncomfortable. He could not turn hunter, and live all his life in these remote solitudes. But to take Ella with him, to England or elsewhere, as his wife, was wholly impracticable, so far as he could see. How could he maintain her? How induce others to receive her? What would his friends say to such an alliance? or indeed to his forming any alliance at all? The life which had been arranged for him--that of a clerk in a house at Calcutta--it seemed impossible that Ella could share that. The idea of marrying Ella was, in fact, little better than a wild dream.