They were now travelling down a path skirting a range of stony hills. Below, and in front at no great distance, was another horseman proceeding in the same direction. It took but one moment to determine him a white man, and not many more to overhaul him and range up alongside. The stranger was dressed in serviceable khaki and a sun-helmet, all of which was in keeping with the bronzed face and short black beard, but not altogether with the round clerical collar. Catching the sound of hoofs behind, he reined in and turned, and Lamont recognised him as Father Mathias, one of the priests attached to the Buluwayo Mission. "Good evening, Father," he called out, as he came up. "Rather far afield, aren't you? This is an unexpected pleasure. I hope we are travelling the same way, because I'm already a good bit sick of my own company." "Mr Lamont, is it not?" said the priest, speaking with a foreign accent. "Ah yes. We met in Gandela, did we not? I too--I shall be very glad of company." They rode along, chatting. The while, Lamont was eyeing the other's horse, a sorry-looking beast at best, and, besides its rider, was loaded up with a fair amount of luggage, in the shape of a large rolled valise across the horn of the saddle and a couple of well filled-out saddle-bags on each side. "You'd better let me help you with some of that load," he said at last. "In fact we'll transfer the lot. My horse is as fresh as paint, and won't feel it." "Oh, I could not think of letting you do that, Mr Lamont. A few pounds more or less make no great difference." "Don't they? I don't know if you have ever walked with a knapsack, Father, but I have--and it's just that very pound or so extra that makes all the difference in the world. Are you going to ride that horse all the way to Buluwayo?" "Yes. But I shall have a day's rest at Skrine's Store, where I have to look after some of our people." "Thirty-five miles. You will hardly get him there--certainly not to-night. You had better come home with me." The other feared that this was impossible, as, after they had journeyed together up to a certain point, it would be right in the contrary direction. But he ceased to combat Lamont's offer to relieve him of some of the load. "You don't travel light, Father," laughed Lamont, as he finished strapping the valise across his own saddle. "But this is not my own luggage. I have been on a round of visitation, and wherever I find some of our people they are glad of the opportunity to hear Mass. It is the ornaments required for the Mass that are in these saddle-bags." "Oh, I understand now," said Lamont. "I thought it was camping outfit. Well, that is shepherding the flock and no mistake--and that over a pretty wide run." "That is what we are here for, Mr Lamont. It is possible we may miss some, but we try not to." "I'm sure you do," assented Lamont heartily. "Why, you are proverbial in this country as models of energy."