The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-01-28


 but he seemed impervious to the heat His horse moved slowly with droop- ing head and lolling ears, with every ounce of superfluous energy put into the operation of swishing off the flies with his long, unkenpt tail. The poor brutes gait was weary, hopeless. but it knew its work and would do it; it was used to its rider, used to him and to the weary, arid land of the Kalahari Desert.
 Ferman Elwood was never the man to consider his own personal comfort. or. for that matter. his horses, when such a. course might interfere with his purpose. Just now his purpose
 demanded bird-eye view of the val ley of the Molopo River, and q watchful eye for what might be hid den therein. His course was the van
 tage ground needed for the purpose. He was looking for flash of white canvas through the trees below, or the smoke of a distant campfire which might indicate the presence of a trekking wagon.
 His search was close and unre;nit- ting; no thought was permitted that might divert his attention, no sight beyond that which lay in the valley. He had been riding since daylight, nursing his horse with due regard to his own weight and the nature of the waterless wastes through which he was riding. The desert had few ter TOTS for him. He had crossed and re-crossed it so often; he had hunt ed in it's dimmest recesses until fa- miliarity had bred indifference to it's dangers, and had given him a knowl- edge of it almost equal to that of bushman.
 At last his listless horse felt check upon the loosely hanging reins. It halted with suspicious alacrity, and the man sat looking out ahead with speculative eyes. A thin twist of smoke was lifting skywards beyond distant rampant of heavy timber and closea bush. For some moments he contemplated the object, then quite suddenly he lifted his reins and urged the horse down towards the sheltering trees below him. The campfire, whence proceeded that column of tell-tale smoke, was his goal,
 Guy Chalmer was alone in his camp.
 A week had gone since the loss of his cattle The search for them was still proceeding, but he had almost given up hope. That morning, as a last effort, his two boys had gone in opposite directions along the river to, search the country around the water holes; now he was awaiting their re- turn.
 His vor-looper had deserted. Three days had been sufficient for the poor wretch to recover from the worst effects of his fogging, and he prompt ly decamped at the first favourable opportunity. taking what provisions he could lay hands on and one of his baas's best blankets.
 Guy was lying stretched out upon his bed kaartel in the wagon. His catastrophe weighed heavily upon him, and left him at a loss. He knew that if his boys returned with out the cattle this time he must con- slider them gone for good. Then what was he to do? He tried to could see no way out of the difficulty. One thing was certain, he could not return to his friends. He remember ed Jerry Boyle's final words. Be- those others who were banded with them. Out of all the directions in which he groped. seeking solution of his predicament. there seemed to like promise.
 There was a trader in the neigh borhood of Maroqweng who had trek oxen, but he knew enough to be cer-
 tain that he would not hire them for a journey through the desert, and to purchase them was out of the ques- ton.
 Consequently there remained only ! one means of acquiring them, and on this he fixed his whole attention. It
 was q question of inveigling his two
 boys into joining him in his enter prise. If this could be done, then 1t
 was only left for them to ride over
 to Maroqweng, distance of perhaps sixty miles, and make O night raid upon the kraals. It was neck or ! nothing. A successful raid would put
 things right. If he failed he felt pretty certain that he was hardly likely to escape with his life, which, after all. considering the circumstan-
 ccs, was hardly a matter that need
 worry him.
 He thought long over his plans, and the more he considered them the better and easier the thing appeared. His spirits rose in proportion. He | felt that all hope was not yet gone, and he found himself less anxious 1 for his cattle than for his boys re- turn to camp. He did not doubt his