The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-02-15
CHAPTER I.
The Girl.

CHAPTER I.
 The Girl.
 The afternoon was intensely. terribly hot Looked at from the high ground
 where they were encamped above the
 river. the sea, a mile or two to hel
 right--for this was the coast of Pondo-
 land-to little Rachel Dove staring al
 it with sad eyes. seemed an illimitable
 sheet of stagnant oil. Yet there was
 no sun, for a grey haze hung like a
 veil beneath the arch of the sky So
 dense and thick that it's rays were cut
 off from the earth which lay belC <
 silent and stifled. Tom, the KafiI
 driver. had told her that a storm was
 coming. a father of storms. which
 would end the great drought. There
 fore 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 pas
 tura ge-to drive them back to the wag-
 gon. For, as he explained 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 it was at present.
 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 it comes by the
 assegai in war and Tom. a good crea- ture had been fond of that baby dur ing it's short little life. Well. it was buried TOW: he had finished digging it's resting-place in the hard soil before he went Rachel poor child. for she was but fifteen. had borne it to it's last bed and her father had unpacked his sur plice from a box. put it on and read the Burial Service over the grave. Aft erwards 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 shrivelled branch or two of mimoSa upon the stones-the best offering they had to make.
 Rachel and her father were the sole mourners at this funeral. if we may omit two rock rabbits that sat upon shelf of stone in a neighboring cliff, and an old baboon which peered at these strange proceedings from its crest, and finally pushed down a bould- CT before it departed, barking indig- nantly. Her mother could not come because she was ill with grief and feV- CT in a little tent by the wagon: When it was all over they returned t3 her, and there had been a painful scene.
 Mrs Dove was lying on 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. Rachel always remembered that scene. The hot tent with it's flaps turned up to let in whatever air there might be. Her mother in a blue dress ing-gown dingy with wear and travel. from which one of the ribbon bows hung by a thread. her face turned to the canvas and weeping silently. The gaunt form of her father with his fanatical saint-lilxe face. pale beneath it's tan, his high forehead over which fell one grizzled lock. his thin, set lips and far-away grey eyes, taking off ms surplice and folding it up with qu1ck of his nervous hands, ana herself. a scared, wondering child watching them both and longing to slin away to indulge her grief in soli- tude. It seemed an age before that was folded. pushed into lin en bag which in their old home used to hold dirty clothes. and finally stoWeu away in a deal box with broken hinge At length it was done. and her father strengthened himself with a sigh. and said in voice that trleo lo be cheerful:
 Do not weep. Janey. Remember this is all for the best. The Lord hath taken away. blessed be the name or the Lord.''
 Her mother sat up looking at him responsibility with her blue eyes. anu answered in her soft Scotch accent:
 You said that to me before, John, when the other one went, down at Grahamstown. and I am tired of near ing it. Don't ask me to bless the Lord when He takes my babies, no. nor any mother. He who could spare them II He chose Why should the Lord give me fever so that I could not nurse It. md make snake bite the COW so that f died? If the Lords ways are such, hen those of the savages are more l nerciful.' .,
 sJaney. Janey. do not blaspheme," Ter father had exclaimed. ou should rejoice that the child IS ln Heaven"
 "Then do you rejoice and leave me Q prieye. From to-day l only make ,ne prayer, that I may never have an other. John'' she added. with a sud len outburst, ''it is your fault. You rnow well told you how it would be.
 told vou that if you would come this mad tourney the babe would Gle, aye, md T tell vou-'' here her voice sank Q q kind Of wailing before he tale is ended others will dle, too, III of us. except Rachel there who was porn to live her life. Well. for my ,art. the sooner the better. for | wish o go to sleep with my children.
 ..rThis is evil.' broke in her husband, evil and rebellious--
 ssThen evil and rebellious let it be- ohn. But why am I evil if have the econd sight like my mother before ne? Oh! she warned me what must ome if I married you. and I would not sten; now I warn you, anG you Will