Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-02-06

-HE afternoon was intensely, ter
bly, hot. Looked at from the
high ground where they were
encamped above the river. the
sea. mile or two to her right
for this was the coast Of Pondo-land-to
little Rachel Dove staring at 1t with sad
eyes, seemed an illimitable sheet of stag
nant oil. Yet there was no sun, for a
gray haze hung like veil beneath the
arch of the sky. SO dense and thick that
it's rays were cut off from the earth,
which lay below silent and stifled. Tom.
the kaff1r driver. had told her that a
storm was coming. a father Of storms.
which would end the great drought.
Therefore he had gone to a kloof in the
mountains where the oxen were in charge
of the other two native boys-since on this
upland there was no pasturage-to drive
them back to the wagon. For. as he ex-
planned to her. in such tempests cattle are
apt to take fright and rush away for
miles, and without cattle their plight
would be even worse than 1t was at pres
ent.
At least this was what Tom said, but
Rachel, who had been brought up among
natives and understood their mind. knew
that his real reason was that he wished
to be out Of the way when the baby was
buried. Kaffirs do not like death. unless
1t comes by the assegai In war. and Tom.
a good creature, had been fond of that
baby during its short little life. Well. it,
was buried now; he had finished digging
its resting place in the hard soil before
he went. Rachael, poor child, for she
was but fifteen, had borne 1t to its last
bed and her father had unpacked his sur
plice from q box. put it on and read the
burial service over the grave. Afterward
together they had filled In that dry. red
earth, and rolled stones on to it. and as
there were few flowers at this season of
the year. placed a shriveled branch or two
OF mimosa upon the stones-the best Of
fering they had to make
Rachel and her father were the sole
mourners at this funeral, If we may omit
of stone In a neighboring cliff, and an old
baboon which peered at these strange
proceedings from it's crest and finally
pushed down boulder before it departed.
barking Indignantly. Her mother could
not come because she was Ill with grief
and fever in little tent by the wagon.
When it was all over they returned to
her. and there had been painful scene
Mrs. Dove was lying on a bed made of
the cartel. or frame strung with strips
of green hide, which had been removed
from the wagon. pretty. pale-faced
woman with a profusion Of fair hair. Ra-
chel always remembered that scene. The
hot tent with its flaps turned up to let
in whatever air there might be. Her
mother in a blue dressing gown, dingy
with wear and travel, from which one of
the ribbon bows hung by thread her
face turned to the canvas and weeping
silently. The gaunt form Of her father
with his fanatical. saint-like face pale
beneath its tan, his high forehead over
which fell one griZzled lock, his thin. set
lips and far-away gray eyes. taking off
his surplice and folding it up with quick
movements of his nervous hands, and her
self. a scared wondering child. watching
them both and longing to slip away to
indulge her grief in solitude 1t seemed
an age before that surplice was folded.
pushed into linen bag which in their old
home used to hold dirty clothes and
finally slowed away in a deal box with
a broken hinge. At length it was done.
and her father Strengthened himself with
a sigh, and said In voice that tried to
be cheerful
do not weep. Janey Remember this
is all for the best. The Lord hath taken
away, blessed be the name of the Lord
Her mother sat up looking at him re-