“Certainly not, if our commander-in-chief will allow us to stop.”
“I think your commander-in-chief,” replied Wilmot, “is just as anxious to have a day’s sport with them as you are, Major; so you will certainly have his permission.”
“I think we ought to put Omrah on a horse. He is a nice light weight for a spare horse, if required.”
“Not a bad idea,” replied Alexander. “What a tiger he would make for a cab in the park!”
“More like a monkey,” replied the Major; “but it is time to go to bed; so, good-night.”
Chapter Eleven.
The caravan proceeded on the following morning, and by noon they arrived at the Mission station of Butterworth, which was about one hundred and forty miles from the colonial boundaries. This station had only been settled about three years, but even in that short time it wore an air of civilisation strongly contrasted with the savage country around it. The Mission-house was little better than a large cottage, it is true, and the church a sort of barn; but it was surrounded by neat Caffre huts and gardens full of produce.
On the arrival of the caravan, Mr S, the missionary, came out to meet the travellers, and to welcome them. He had been informed that they would call at the station, and bring some articles which had been sent for. It hardly need be said that, meeting at such a place, and in such a country, the parties soon became on intimate terms. Mr S offered them beds and accommodation in his house, but our travellers refused; they were well satisfied with their own; and having unyoked their oxen, and turned them out to graze with those belonging to the station, they accepted the missionary’s invitation to join his repast.