“Truly the Almighty has had you both in His keeping,” exclaimed Mr. Dove, when their tale was done. “And now, Richard, my boy, what are you going to do? You see, we caught your horse—it was grazing about a mile away with the saddle twisted under its stomach—and wondered what white man could possibly have been riding it in this desolate place. Afterwards, however, one of my voor-loopers reported that he had seen two waggons yesterday afternoon trekking through the poort about five miles to the north there. The white men with them said that they were travelling towards the Cape, and pushing on to get out of the hills before the storm broke. They bade him, if he met you, to bid you follow after them as quickly as you could, and to say that they would wait for you, if you did not arrive before, at the Three Sluit outspan on this side of the Pondo country, at which you stopped some months ago.” “Yes,” answered Richard, “I remember, but that outspan is thirty miles away, so I must be getting on, or they will come back to hunt for me.” “First you will stop and eat with us, will you not?” said Mr. Dove. “No, no, I have eaten. Also I have saved some meat in my pouch. I must go, I must indeed, for otherwise my father will be angry with me. You see,” he added, “I went out shooting without his leave.” “Ah! my boy,” remarked Mr. Dove, who seldom neglected an opportunity for a word in season, “now you know what comes of disobedience.” “Yes, I know, sir,” he answered looking at Rachel. “I was just in time to save your daughter’s life here; as you said just now, Providence sent me. Well, good-bye, and don’t think me wicked if I am very glad that I was disobedient, as I believe you are, too.” “Yes, I am. Good comes out of evil sometimes, though that is no reason why we should do evil,” the missionary added, not knowing what else to say. Richard did not attempt to argue the point, for at the moment he was engaged in bidding farewell to Rachel. It was a very silent farewell; neither of them spoke a word, they only shook each other’s hand and looked into each other’s eyes. Then muttering something which it was as well that Mr. Dove did not hear, Richard swung himself into the saddle, for his horse stood at hand, and, without even looking back, cantered away towards the mountains. “Oh!” exclaimed Rachel presently, “call him, father.” “What for?” asked Mr. Dove. “I want to give him our address, and to get his.” “We have no address, Rachel. Also he is too far off, and why should you want the address of a chance acquaintance?” “Because he saved my life and I do,” replied the child, setting her face. Then, without another word, she turned and began to walk towards their camp—a very heavy journey it was to Rachel.