"Well, you certainly did not show a bold front on that occasion," laughed the Major. "No, indeed," rejoined his friend. "But I can assure you that few men could have presented a broader back than did the gallant purser; and it has always been a mystery to me how a man of his rotundity got over the ground at such a wonderful pace. He beat me by a good fifty yards. Now who is going to take first watch?" "Black William is first on the roster, sorr, and I shall relave him," answered Patrick Keown; and the Hottentot having been duly posted, the others lay down before the camp fire and were soon wrapped in sleep-- sleep-- "The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast!" CHAPTER EIGHT. TOM GIVES THE ALARM--RIFLE VERSUS ASSEGAI--TRIUMPH OF THE WHITE MAN!--"KICKING JAN" OUTKICKS HIMSELF--A CATASTROPHE--ARRIVAL AT RALFONTEIN. The night passed away quietly and day dawned with all the splendour of a South African morning. By five o'clock the little camp was astir, and our friends, having first enjoyed a refreshing dip in the clear pool at the foot of the hill, hastened to prepare breakfast; whilst Patrick Keown and his sable ally busied themselves making ready for the day's journey. "Well, Tom, how did you get on between one and three am?" was Mr Weston's first question when they sat down to break their fast with the remains of last night's supper. "Found it rather lonely, didn't you?" "I should just think I did," was the candid reply; "horribly lonely! And I was obliged to keep trotting backwards and forwards like a hyaena in a cage to prevent myself nodding; not that I should have minded that, if I'd only had someone to talk to." "Well, you look fresh as a four-year-old this morning," Major Flinders said. "I'm certain that a trip of this sort is a capital thing for getting young fellows into condition." "No doubt of it," assented his friend; "so long as it is not attended with too much fatigue or hardship." As soon as Tom had finished his breakfast he expressed his intention of taking a look round before they inspanned. "Don't go far, my boy; keep within hail," said his father. "We shall make a start directly Keown has the carts ready." "All right, father," replied the boy, taking up his rifle. "I'll just stroll up the donga and see if I can get a crack at something or other. There's no fresh meat in the larder, you know." And off he trudged-- "Unknowing what he sought, And whistling as he went for want of thought."