"Even at this last moment, Wyzinski, it is not too late. There are plenty of empty berths on board the `Saxon.'" Hughes seemed greatly moved, and the missionary's usually impassive face showed signs of deep emotion, which, it was evident, he suppressed with difficulty. "No, old friend. No, it must not be," he replied, his thin lips quivering as he spoke. "The work we have begun together, I will finish if I live. The `Ruined Cities of Zulu Land' exist, and the dangers we have gone through have but opened out the way. Noti's life lost on the banks of the Golden River, Luji's sacrificed to save ours on the plains of Manica, must not have been given in vain." A deep silence ensued as Isabel, leaning on her husband's arm, looked pensively over the sea. The sound of the steam-whistle was heard, warning the loiterers on the beach that their time was short. "I go from this to depose on oath as to our discoveries," continued the enthusiastic speaker. "I am sure of a welcome at Chantilly, and that shall be my starting point." "Well, well," returned Hughes, sorrowfully, "you won't forget the presents for Masheesh. How he wanted to come with us, poor fellow." "There goes a gun from the `Saxon,' sir," said the coxswain in charge of the boat, as the report of a light piece came to their ears, and a wisp of white smoke rose curling over the point. "Good-bye, Wyzinski, good-bye," said Hughes, as he grasped the other's hand. "May God bless you! And remember, while we have a home it's yours. You must eventually tire of your wanderings." "Shall I?" returned the other, as a slight smile curled his lip, though the unbidden tears were standing in his eyes, kept back only by his iron will "Hark my words: you will tire first of a life of inaction." And the missionary touched Isabel's cheek with his lips as he handed her into the boat. One more grasp of the hand as the two men stood looking into each other's eyes; one more deep "good-bye!" and Hughes sat by her side. "Give way, my lads! give way, with a will!" exclaimed the coxswain, as the sound of a second gun came booming over the point. "You will tire of the water-melons, Hughes," shouted the missionary, as the boat shot away from land, "and when you do so, think of the Ruined Cities of Zulu Land, and your old comrade working alone." A wave of the hand came back for all reply, as Hughes passed his arm round Isabel's slender waist.