As they were to halt till the cool of the evening, Mr Daveney proposed that poor May's footsteps should be traced, while the sturdy burghers, resting on their arms, kept guard over his people; so, with a knowing old Hottentot, and two Fingoes, the latter on foot, the host and Frankfort well mounted, pistols in their belts, and rifles slung ready for use, started for the vley, where Piet had lingered on the midnight march. CHAPTER NINE. THE GATHERING OF THE SETTLERS. Anxious as Frankfort was concerning the fate of his attendants, thoughts of his host's daughter Eleanor _would_ rise as he rode silently beside Mr Daveney on the expedition in search of Piet the obstinate. Within the last twenty-four hours of his existence a new chapter had been opened before him in his book of fate--it was not his own inditing. Frankfort, although not the man to be attracted by a mere pretty, interesting face, had been taken by surprise in the desert. He had never been a trifler in those showy circles in which Ormsby was wont to flutter; he loved books, reflection, and but for his sporting tastes and military talent might have been considered by his brother-officers a "slow man." Albeit courteous by nature and education to the gentler sex, and less uncharitable towards its failings than many more favoured than himself, he never could bring himself to "philander," as Ormsby designated flirting, for which the latter had a cruel capacity. But this sorrowful, gentle-looking being would have drawn Frankfort to her side anywhere--so he thought. Certainly, the circumstances attending the introduction of our travellers to this family had brought out features in the character of all, which placed them in a strong light before the young men, who naturally yielded to the influence of the fair daughters of the wilderness. Ormsby was attracted at once by the merry-eyed Marion; Frankfort's contemplative mind dwelt on the care-worn face and dignified calmness in the midst of dangers displayed by Eleanor; and now, as he rode beside her father, he found himself going back to the first moment of meeting, and counting, as it were, every link in the chain that he felt had been silently, but surely, cast around him. Her quiet courage, her steady reasoning, her unconsciousness of display as she stood amid the clatter of arms, the centre of a group of uncouth creatures, so strongly contrasted with herself, as they received the weapons of death from her hands; the mysterious sadness that superseded all other feeling, clouding her young brow, and influencing the very tones of her voice as she addressed words of comfort and encouragement to her sister, who, like all volatile people, had been struck down at once by terror--all those attributes, so rare in woman, or so seldom developed--(perhaps for want of opportunity--that is a mighty word, though all men may not know it)--would have impressed Frankfort, had the possessor of them been the plainest woman in the world.