In two hours more his wagon was standing in the edge of a grassy plain, and Oscar was sleeping soundly in his cot, while Paddy O'Brian nodded over his pipe, and the Hottentots toiled back over the mountain to assist the Boers.
About noon Oscar awoke, feeling perfectly refreshed, and, drawing aside the fly of his tent, took a look at the dreaded Drackenberg by daylight.
It had been a bugbear to him from the start, and he had repeatedly been warned that, unless he were possessed of an unusual amount of pluck and determination, his journey would end when he reached it.
But it had been passed in safety, thanks to the friendly Boers, and it was a relief to him to know that he need not bother his head about it again, for a year at least.
Two days afterward Oscar reached Harrismith, and after outspanning below the town he climbed the hill and made inquiries for Mr. Hutchinson, to whom he had letters of introduction.
That gentleman said he was glad to see him, gave him a large package of letters and papers which Mr. Donahue had forwarded by post-cart, and invited him to dinner.
Oscar looked first at his letters and then at his clothes—which were beginning to show signs of wear—and wondered how he could decline the invitation.
"Never mind your clothes," said Mr. Hutchinson—a jolly old gentleman who reminded Oscar of his friend Captain Sterling. "We don't expect hunters to look as though they had just come out of some lady's bandbox."
"I am greatly obliged to you, sir," replied Oscar; "but when I tell you that these are the first letters I have received from home since leaving Maritzburg I know you will not press the matter."