"Seems to me," said Charlie on the third day, as he thawed out a gourd full of water that had frozen overnight, "that we could load up the wagons with green stuff when we go through here. That last village we came through was plumb chuck full o' pumpkins."
"Melons, you mean," laughed Jack. "I dug into one. There was some squash, though, in the back fields. How far we going, General?"
Schoverling consulted his pocket-map and compass before replying.
"We ought to be near the station of the commissioner of the district now. If we don't strike it by night we may as well go back. I've found out what we came for."
About noon, however, they came to a long unpainted frame building with corrugated iron roof, set in the midst of a grove of small trees. At the rear were stables and a great corral of wire netting, in which grazed a herd of ostriches. As they rode up to the door one or two natives came out, and a khaki-clad Englishman with shoulder-straps rushed out to receive them.
"Hello!" laughed Schoverling as he shook hands. "This is the commissioner—Captain Yonge?"
"Yes—and this is the famous Schoverling, I'll wager," smiled the clean-shaven officer. "But where's von Hofe? I got word from down country to watch out for him."
Matters were soon explained, and they joined Yonge at lunch. An hour later a dozen trim King's African Rifles cantered up—Zulus all, under command of Yonge, who maintained order through two hundred miles of savagery.
"Say, the old M. P. ain't in it with this!" said Jack that evening, as he and Charlie wandered out to inspect the ostrich farm. "Hear that yarn he told about nabbing those ju-ju murderers last year, single-handed. No wonder he got a D. S. O. for it!"
"And they do it all with native troops, too," added Charlie thoughtfully. "You've got to hand it to the British for governing by force of character, right enough. Wonder what the country gets like on the other side of this plateau. Let's find out."