"Well, Guy," said his uncle, with a pleased look on his kindly, expressive face, "I’m very glad to hear this. I like you, my boy. I believe you will stick to your business, and not look at it merely as a hobby or a plaything; and I can only say, for my part, that I will do all in my power to help you on. For your father’s sake, as well as your own, I shall do this; and I hope in a few years, when you’ve got experience, you will do very well for yourself. Meanwhile, I’ve lately had my eye on two farms, hitherto unoccupied, which touch our north-west boundary. They are called Hartebeestfontein and Bushman’s Kraal. I can get them cheap. They are the usual six thousand acre farms, and I can buy them from Government for £600 the pair. I shall write to my agent at Vryburg to-morrow to secure these farms, which I shall henceforth take to and stock. I shall hold these at your disposal, either one or both of them; and in two or three years’ time, if you like to try and make a start on your own hook, why, we’ll put up a decent house for you, open up the water supply--I know on Hartebeestfontein there is a spring, and I believe there are some likely _aars_ [veins] in the limestone, where more water is pretty certain to be found--and stock the place, so that you can make a fair beginning. But we must go slow for a time, and meanwhile you’ve got to learn your business. Still, I am bound to say that I believe and hope you’ll do very well. You are steady, or I am very much mistaken; you have brains; and I know, I can see, that, like your dear father, you will always go straight, which in this life is a good deal more than half the battle." *Chapter IV.* *THE GOLD SPOOR.* "There is another matter I want to speak to you about, Guy," continued Mr. Blakeney, "which has been perplexing me a good deal. It is this: When your father wrote me the first of the two last letters he sent me before his death, he sent also a short statement, sealed in a packet and marked ’Important.’ This statement concerns a very rich discovery of gold in a far-away part of the interior of South-west Africa, somewhere on the border of the Portuguese territory of Benguela. I have worried over this problem for many weeks past, and the conclusion I have come to is that I ought to tell you about the whole business. The shortest and best plan is, I think, to show you your father’s letter. Here it is; I’ll read it to you:-- "’ABAQUESSA, GOLD COAST, _March_ 19, 1896.