He had accomplished the easiest part of his undertaking. Perils, privations, and discouragements were yet to come.
The next day Oscar handed an invoice of his goods to the custom-house officers, and having obtained a permit to land his guns, and seen all his boxes and bales put safely under lock and key, he took his seat in a post-cart, and, in company with the colonel, his body-servant, and two other passengers, was whirled away toward the town of Durban, which lay three miles inland from Port Natal.
Here he was to deliver two of his letters of introduction, which were addressed to Mr. Morgan, the editor of the leading newspaper.
As it was late in the afternoon, he decided to wait until the next morning before he sought out Mr. Morgan.
Having registered his name, and seen his trunk carried to his room, he walked out on the porch, where he was accosted by a "horsey" looking individual, who held a riding-whip in his hand.
Oscar had caught a momentary glimpse of the man when he alighted from the post-cart, and knew, as soon as he laid his eyes upon him, that he belonged to a class with whom Captain Sterling had frequently and earnestly warned him to have nothing to do.
He was a cattle-dealer and speculator—a human shark, who profited by the misfortunes of others.
His first words indicated that he had been looking at the register.
"You're from America, I believe," said he with easy familiarity.
Oscar replied that he was.