As Miss Boland entered the tent I rose and was cordially greeted. The manners of the two ladies suggested that they certainly had not taken offense at my treatment of them at our first meeting in the forest. They looked far less like hunters than at the time I first saw them, as their hunting-costumes had been replaced by the morning wrapper of civilized femininity. I took a sly glance in search of the powder and other facial adornments which also belong to civilized life, but could not discover traces of anything of the kind. Their faces were a ruddy brown, and evidently the women had no fears that the climate of South Africa would spoil their complexions; in fact, they were allowing the complexions to take care of themselves, while enjoying the pleasures of a hunter's life.
We had a general conversation on hunting and other topics, which it is unnecessary to repeat. In fact, I would find it impossible to write a verbatim report of what was said during my visit. I was impressed with the enthusiasm which these women showed for their semi-wild life, and also with the care they had taken to provide themselves with as many of the comforts of civilization as it was possible to bring along. They had a chestful of books, most of them relating to the country they were in or the sports which attracted them, and they had not forgotten to bring along a quantity of novels and miscellaneous matter, such as one does not often find in the outfit of an African hunter. They offered me several works of fiction which they were through with, both having read them. I accepted their offer, as we were short of literature in our camp, and the books were quickly made into a parcel and handed over to my after-rider.
I remained there perhaps half an hour. As I rose to go they urged me to remain longer, just as is always the case in fashionable society, no matter how much the host may wish for the visitor's departure. I explained that my companions were hunting buffaloes in the locality where I had the pleasure of meeting the two ladies, and that they expected me to join them. This led to my explaining who my companions were and also to a further explanation as to myself.
"You already know," I said, "that my name is Frank Manson. I am from New York, and take pride in saying that my father is one of the prominent citizens of that metropolis of the western world. After my graduation from college I was taken, into my father's law-office and expected in due course of time to become his partner and successor. My health became impaired and it was decided that I should take a year or two of active outdoor life. I had read the books of Gordon Cumming, Baldwin, and other South African hunters, and it did not take me long to make up my mind to visit this part of the world and take my active outdoor life in pursuit of South African game.
"When I reached the Cape I made the acquaintance of two young men who had come, the one from London and the other from Glasgow, with the same objects in view as myself. Jack Delafield is the son of a wealthy manufacturer in Scotland, and Harry Lawrence is the son of a London merchant, also reputed wealthy. They are bright, interesting fellows, and it did not take us long to form a partnership in a hunting-enterprise. They are my two companions, and we have had a royal good time together."
Mrs. Roberts said that she would certainly be pleased to meet the gentlemen, and Miss Boland acquiesced in the suggestion. I observed that Mrs. Roberts seemed to be in the position of chaperon to the younger woman; the initiative in everything was taken by the former, but whether this was accidental or otherwise I was unable to say at that time.
"Would it please you," I asked, "to visit our camp, on any day and hour that you choose, where you can see our hunting-outfit and meet my two companions?"
The ladies looked from one to the other, and I decorously turned my attention to the opposite side of the tent, so that they could express approval or disapproval to each other without coming under my eye. I fastened my gaze on a gun-case, and not only my gaze, but my hands, whereupon Miss Boland remarked:
"That's my favorite gun—a Winchester. I have two or three other kinds, but that's the one I prefer above all others and carry more frequently than any other." Then she stepped forward, deftly opened the case, and took out the weapon.
It was, as she said, a Winchester, and one of the best of its kind. I remarked that I was familiar with the gun, as we had four of that pattern in our outfit. Of course this led to a brief dissertation on the merits of the Winchester, in which Miss Boland grew quite enthusiastic over the rapid firing qualities of the weapon.