The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-02-16
CHAPTER IT.

t4. 4 I 7 Q The river towards which Rachel headed, one of the mouths of the Um- tavuna, was much further off than it
 looked. It was, indeed, not less than mile and a half away. She had said that she feared nothing, and it was one of this child's characteristics. She could scarcely ever remember hav- ing felt afraid for herself except some times of her father when he grew an- gry--or was it mad that he grew-and ragged at her, threatening her with pun ishnent in another world in reward for her childish sins. Even then the
 sensation did not last long, because she could not : believe in that punish
 ment which he so wildly imagined. So it came about that now she had no
 fear when there was so much cause. For this place was lonely; not a liv- ing creature could be seen. Moreover, a dreadful hush hrooded on the face of earth. and in the sky above; only far away over the mountains the light ming hickered incessantly, as though a monster in the skies were licking their precipices and pinnacles with a thou sand tongues of fire. Nothing stirred,
 not even an insect;every creature that drew breath had hidden itself away l until the coming terror was overpast. The atmosphere was full of electric | ity struggling to be free. Although she knew not what 1t was, Rachel felt Iit in her blood and brain. In some strange way it affected her mind, op- ening windows there through which the eyes of her soul looked out. She became aware of some new influence
 drawing near to her life; of a sudden her budding wOmanhOOd burst into flower in her breast, shone on by an unseen sun; she was no more a child. Her being quickened and acknowledg- x I-s~> 70 <>1I That breeding, hame-threaded sky she was part of it; the earth she trod, it was a part of her; the Mind that caused the stars to roll and her to live, dwelt in her bosom, and like 8 babe she nestled within the arm of it's almighty will.
 Now, as in a dream, Rachel descend ed the steep, rock-strewn banks of the dry branch of the river-bed. vending her way Ibetween the boulders and not ing that rotten weeds and peeled brushwood rested against the stems of the mimosa thorns which grew there, tokens which told her that here in times of flood the water flowed. We'll, there was little enough of 1t now, only a pool or two to form a mirror for the lightning. In front of her lay the fs- land where grew the Cape gOOseber- rieS, or winter cherries, as they are
 sometimes called which she came to seek. IL was a low piece or ground d quarter of a mile long, perhaps, but in
 the centre of it were some great rocks
 and growing among the rocks, trees,
 one of them higher than the rest. Be-
 yond it ran the true river, even now
 at the end of the dry season three or
 four hundred yards in breadth, though
 so shallow that 1t could be forded by an ox-drawn wagon.
 It was raining on the mountains yon-
 der, raining in torrents poured from
 those inky clouds, as it had done off
 and on for the past twenty-four hours.
 and above their fire-laced bosom float
 ed glorious-coloured masses of misty
 vayour, enflamed in a thousand hues
 by the arrows of the sinking sun.
 Above her, however, there was no sun,
 nothing but the curtain of cloud, which
 grew gradually frem grey to black and
 minute by minute sank nearer to the
 earth.
 Walking through the dry river-bed
 Rachel reached the island which was
 the last and highest of Q line of sim
 liar islands that, separated from each
 other by narrow breatdhs of water, lay
 like a chain between the dry donga
 and the river. Here she began to
 gather her gooseberries, picking the
 silvery, octagonal pods from the green
 stems on which they grew. At first
 she opened these pods, removing from
 each the yellow, sub-acid berry, think
 ing that tf1us her basket would hold