“Yes, and to-day might almost be an African day,” said Dick. “It’s so still and lovely, and cloudless.”
“Oh, talking of Africa,” cried Hazel, “I’ve just got a lot of news—mail letters—came soon after you had started. Dick—Mr Greenoak—what do you think? Elsie is going to be married!”
“No!” shouted Dick; and he threw back his head and roared. “Oh, that’s good. Who to?”
“I don’t remember the man, but he was one of the party who came to our rescue that night. He’s got a farm in the Chalumna district.”
“He didn’t see the play she made with that axe,” laughed Dick. “That might have scared him off—eh?”
“Perhaps that constituted the attraction, Dick,” said Sir Anson. “Useful sort of wife to have, you know, in such a troublesome neighbourhood.”
“She says that now her ‘bairn’ has left her—that’s me,” went on Hazel—“she might as well look out for herself. And so—she did.”
“What a howling joke!” cried Dick. “Good old Elsie! We’ll ship her out no end of a tea-service—and things—eh, dad? What other news, dear?”
“The Commandant has resigned.”
“Pity, fine old boy the Commandant. Why did he chuck?”