On they sped, now ascending a hill at a foot’s pace, now bowling briskly down the next declivity, as the road wound over the rolling country. To Lilian the journey, so far from being a tedious one, was wholly delightful. She was vividly interested in everything. Even the little meercats, which sat upright on their hind legs a few yards from the road and then bolted into their burrows at the approach of the horses, came in for a share of her notice and admiration. A solitary secretary bird, stalking away down in the hollow, became the subject of numerous inquiries, and she gazed with awe upon a cloud of great white vultures soaring overhead bound for some defunct horse or sheep, appearing from nowhere and disappearing as mysteriously. To the English girl, with her keen love of Nature, even these insignificant representatives of wild African animal life were full of interest.
They passed a large ostrich farm lying beneath them on the slope, and she could hardly believe her companion’s statement that the distant black specks at the farther ends of their respective enclosures were as formidable as the traditional mad bull, until a large troop of ten-months-old ostriches, under charge of herds, swept past, and he drew her attention to their size, and the strength of those long legs terminating in a sharp, horny toe, capable of ripping a man up. But the birds looked very handsome, very picturesque as they careered by, their snowy plumes extended and waving, and she was delighted with the picture they made, though her enjoyment was tempered with alarm as the horses showed signs of restiveness. But Claverton reassured her, and the ostriches and their keepers were soon left far behind.
“You live at Seringa Vale, do you not, Mr Claverton?”
“Well, yes; I do at present. I am jackarooing there, as they say in Australia, which is to say that I am imbibing instruction in the craft in consideration of my valuable services.”
“And are you going to settle out here, then?”
“To settle! H’m! How do you know I wasn’t born and bred out here?”
“I suppose because there’s some sort of secret sign by which one importation can detect another,” answered Lilian. “I don’t believe you have been out here as long as I have.”
“Do I look so thoroughly the ‘new chum,’ then? Point out the conspicuous sign of ‘rawness,’ that I may at once eradicate it, if it is worth eradicating, that is.”
“No. I refuse to reveal my masonic sign,” she answered, gaily; “but I know I am right in my conjecture. I could tell the moment I saw you. Am I not right? Now confess!”
“Yes and no. That is to say, it is only three months since I left England this time; but before that I was out here in South Africa for several years.”