The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1910-12-16
CHAPTTR XIV.
Conclusion.

SOISIoolS's
Where the road from Kunwana,
winding its way through broken
bush-veldt country on to Witwaters-
rand, branches out into a north and
south fork-the new direction strik-
ing out for Zeerust-there is a
wide. reed-bound vley, carefully and
deliberately fenced in with wire and
toL-rail. The fence has an opening
at the roadside, but otherwise there
is no approach to the waters edge,
1t is an innocent looking place;
one wide. open sheet of clear, spring
like water, smooth and inviting, and
the hedge of reeds marking its
shadows suggests an admirable wa
tering-place for cattle; yet it is
scrupulously fenced in.
Before this is reached. less than
hundred yards away, in the fork
OF the diverging roads, there is a
thick bluff of heavy bush, whose
shelter is a recognized outspan for
weary trekkers. The water in the
vley is too sweet an1 pure to be
passed by without pause in so
dry a country. Every wagon making
the journey to Witwatersrand over
this road finds a camping-ground
here.
Two wagons are now drawn UP
in this shelter The camp is lavish
and well appointed The wagons are
of the type known as buck-tent,"
and are such as are only owned
by wealthy traders, for, generally
speaking, the Boer farmer cannot
afford such vehicles.
There are several men and no
woman about the camp, which is
in Transvaal trekking.
There are also an unusual number
of Kaffirs around the smouliering
ashes of the campfire.
The white men are lolling in the
scant shade about the wagons, wait
ing for the afternoon cool before
they give the order to move on.
Nor are they waiting with any
thing of that philosophical resigna-
ton which characterizes the habit
ual trekker Each and all want to
be moving on, and to put as many
miles of Transvaal soil between
them and their starting point as
possible. Two days ago they left
Sitlagoli, and their departure thence
was hurried-almost in the nature
Of a flight.
The wagons belonged to Jerry
Boyle; and the old storekeeper and
MS companions, Sam Goodall and
Mike Donovan, were making their
hurried way to the remoter parts
)f the Transvaal.
Few men understood the ups and
downs of frontier life better than
Jerry Boyle. He had already spent
years in this great
game of chance. That he had been
amply successful on the whole his
great dry goods business in Kim,
oerley testified; but the process half
bred in him restless craving for
further speculation, for further con-
quests or failures. 1t was his ma
ture; scheming speculation had be
come as the breath of life to him.
He belonged to a race of gamblers,
and it would have been difficult to
have found a more pronounced ex-
ample of this wonderful Hebrew
trait.
Now, as he lounged in the shadow
Of the wagons, he seemed quite un
disturbed. His huge, round face, with
its spread of whisker, his alert,
deep eyes, was a picture of seren-
Ity. No thoughts or feelings of his
ever disturbed his unctuous exterior
Had it been otherwise, the presnt
was certainly one for the
display of a hundred emotions. He
had failed in his great scheme; he
lad lost considerable treasure, he
lad spent valuable time in useless
and al for no return,
a failure which drove
lim head.ong from the country.
His companions were more demon
;trative, particularly Sam Goo3all.
They had less command of them