quarrelled　violently　to　collect　his　debts　instead　of　one　of　his　own
  beloved　Boers；　I　am　sure　I　do　not　know。　　I　will　go　and　write　to　him。
  Allan；　see　that　the　messenger　and　his　horse　get　something　to　eat。〃
  I　nodded　and　went　to　the　man；　who　was　one　of　those　that　had　defended
  Maraisfontein　with　me；　a　good　fellow　unless　he　got　near　liquor。
  〃Heer　Allan；〃　he　said；　looking　round　to　see　that　we　were　not　overheard；
  〃I　have　a　little　writing　for　you　also；〃　and　be　produced　from　his　pouch　a
  note　that　was　unaddressed。
  I　tore　it　open　eagerly。　　Within　was　written　in　French；　which　no　Boer
  would　understand　if　the　letter　fell　into　his　hands：
  〃Be　brave　and　faithful；　and　remember；　as　I　shall。　　Oh！　love　of　my　heart；
  adieu；　adieu！〃
  This　message　was　unsigned；　but　what　need　was　there　of　signature？
  I　wrote　an　answer　of　a　sort　that　may　be　imagined；　though　what　the　exact
  words　were　I　cannot　remember　after　the　lapse　of　nearly　half　a　century。
  Oddly　enough；　it　is　the　things　I　said　which　I　recall　at　such　a　distance
  of　time　rather　than　the　things　which　I　wrote；　perhaps　because；　when　once
  written；　my　mind　being　delivered；　troubled　itself　with　them　no　more。　　So
  in　due　course　the　Hottentot　departed　with　my　father's　letter　and　my　own；
  and　that　was　the　last　direct　communication　which　we　had　with　Henri　or
  Marie　Marais　for　more　than　a　year。
  I　think　that　those　long　months　were　on　the　whole　the　most　wretched　I
  have　ever　spent。　　The　time　of　life　which　I　was　passing　through　is　always
  trying；　that　period　of　emergence　from　youth　into　full　and　responsible
  manhood　which　in　Africa　generally　takes　place　earlier　than　it　does　here
  in　England；　where　young　men　often　seem　to　me　to　remain　boys　up　to
  five…and…twenty。　　The　circumstances　which　I　have　detailed　made　it
  particularly　so　in　my　own　case；　for　here　was　I；　who　should　have　been　but
  a　cheerful　lad；　oppressed　with　the　sorrows　and　anxieties；　and　fettered
  by　the　affections　of　maturity。
  I　could　not　get　Marie　out　of　my　mind；　her　image　was　with　me　by　day　and
  by　night；　especially　by　night；　which　caused　me　to　sleep　badly。　　I　became
  morose；　supersensitive；　and　excitable。　　I　developed　a　cough；　and
  thought；　as　did　others；　that　I　was　going　into　a　decline。　　I　remember
  that　Hans　even　asked　me　once　if　I　would　not　come　and　peg　out　the　exact
  place　where　I　should　like　to　be　buried；　so　that　I　might　be　sure　that
  there　would　be　no　mistake　made　when　I　could　no　longer　speak　for　myself。
  On　that　occasion　I　kicked　Hans；　one　of　the　few　upon　which　I　have　ever
  touched　a　native。　　The　truth　was　that　I　had　not　the　slightest　intention
  of　being　buried。　　I　wanted　to　live　and　marry　Marie；　not　to　die　and　be
  put　in　a　hole　by　Hans。　　Only　I　saw　no　prospect　of　marrying　Marie；　or
  even　of　seeing　her　again；　and　that　was　why　I　felt　low…spirited。
  Of　course；　from　time　to　time　news　of　the　trek…Boers　reached　us；　but　it
  was　extremely　confused。　　There　were　so　many　parties　of　them；　their
  adventures　were　so　difficult　to　follow；　and；　I　may　add；　often　so
  terrible；　so　few　of　them　could　write；　trustworthy　messengers　were　so
  scanty；　distances　were　so　great。　　At　any　rate；　we　heard　nothing　of
  Marais's　band　except　a　rumour　that　they　had　trekked　to　a　district　in
  what　is　now　the　Transvaal；　which　is　called　Rustenberg；　and　thence　on
  towards　Delagoa　Bay　into　an　unknown　veld　where　they　had　vanished。　　From
  Marie　herself　no　letter　came；　which　showed　me　clearly　enough　that　she
  had　not　found　an　opportunity　of　sending　one。
  Observing　my　depressed　condition；　my　father　suggested　as　a　remedy　that　I
  should　go　to　the　theological　college　at　Cape　Town　and　prepare　myself　for
  ordination。　　But　the　Church　as　a　career　did　not　appeal　to　me；　perhaps
  because　I　felt　that　I　could　never　be　sufficiently　good；　perhaps　because
  I　knew　that　as　a　clergyman　I　should　find　no　opportunity　of　travelling
  north　when　my　call　came。　　For　I　always　believed　that　this　call　would
  come。
  My　father；　who　wished　that　I　should　hear　another　kind　of　call；　was　vexed
  with　me　over　this　matter。　　He　desired　earnestly　that　I　should　follow　the
  profession　which　he　adorned；　and　indeed　saw　no　other　open　for　me　any
  more　than　I　did　myself。　　Of　course　he　was　right　in　a　way；　seeing　that　in
  the　end　I　found　none；　unless　big　game　hunting　and　Kaffir　trading　can　be
  called　a　profession。　　I　don't　know；　I　am　sure。　　Still；　poor　business　as
  it　may　be；　I　say　now　when　I　am　getting　towards　the　end　of　life　that　I　am
  glad　I　did　not　follow　any　other。　　It　has　suited　me；　that　was　the
  insignificant　hole　in　the　world's　affairs　which　I　was　destined　to　fit；
  whose　only　gifts　were　a　remarkable　art　of　straight　shooting　and　the　more
  common　one　of　observation　mixed　with　a　little　untrained　philosophy。
  So　hot　did　our　arguments　become　about　this　subject　of　the　Church；　for；
  as　may　be　imagined；　in　the　course　of　them　I　revealed　some　unorthodoxy；
  especially　as　regards　the　matter　of　our　methods　of　Christianising
  Kaffirs；　that　I　was　extremely　thankful　when　a　diversion　occurred　which
  took　me　away　from　home。　　The　story　of　my　defence　of　Maraisfontein　had
  spread　far；　and　that　of　my　feats　of　shooting；　especially　in　the　Goose
  Kloof；　still　farther。　　So　the　end　of　it　was　that　those　in　authority
  commandeered　me　to　serve　in　one　of　the　continual　Kaffir　frontier　wars
  which　was　in　progress；　and　instantly　gave　me　a　commission　as　a　kind　of
  lieutenant　in　a　border　corps。
  Now　the　events　of　that　particular　war　have　nothing　to　do　with　the
  history　that　I　am　telling；　so　I　do　not　propose　even　to　touch　on　them。　　I
  served　in　it　for　a　year；　meeting　with　many　adventures；　one　or　two
  successes；　and　several　failures。　　Once　I　was　wounded　slightly；　twice　I
  but　just　escaped　with　my　life。　　Once　I　was　reprimanded　for　taking　a
  foolish　risk　and　losing　some　men。　　Twice　I　was　commended　for　what　were
  called　gallant　actions；　such　as　bringing　a　wounded　comrade　out　of　danger
  under　a　warm　fire；　mostly　of　assegais；　and　penetrating　by　night；　almost
  alone；　into　the　stronghold　of　a　chieftain；　and　shooting　him。
  At　length　that　war　was　patched　up　with　an　inconclusive　peace　and　my
  corps　was　disbanded。　　I　returned　home；　no　longer　a　lad；　but　a　man　with
  experience　of　various　kinds　and　a　rather　unique　knowledge　of　Kaffirs；
  their　languages；　history；　and　modes　of　thought　and　action。　　Also　I　had
  associated　a　good　deal　with　British　officers；　and　from　them　acquired
  much　that　I　had　found　no　opportunity　of　studying　before；　especially；　I
  hope；　the　ideas　and　standards　of　English　gentlemen。
  I　had　not　been　back　at　the　Mission　Station　more　than　three　weeks；　quite
  long　enough　for　me　to　begin　to　be　bored　with　idleness　and　inactivity；
  when　that　call　for　which　I　had　been　waiting　came　at　last。
  One　day　a　〃smous〃；　that　is　a　low　kind　of　white　man；　often　a　Jew；　who
  travels　about　trading　with　unsophisticated　Boers　and　Kaffirs；　and
  cheating　them　if　he　can；　called　at　the　station　with　his　cartful　of
  goods。　　I　was　about　to　send　him　away；　having　no　liking　for　such　gentry；
  when　he　asked　me　if　I　were　named　Allan　Quatermain。　　I　said　〃Yes；〃
  whereon　he　replied　that　he　had　a　letter　for　me；　and　produced　a　packet
  wrapped　up　in　sail…cloth。　　I　asked　him　whence　he　had　it；　and　he　answered
  from　a　man　whom　he　had　met　at　Port　Elizabeth；　an　east　coast　trader；　who；
  hearing　that　he　was　coming　into　the　Cradock　district；　entrusted　him　with
  the　letter。　　The　man　told　him　that　it　was　very　important；　and　that　I
  should　reward　the　bearer　well　if　it　were　delivered　safely。
  While　the　Jew　talked　（I　think　he　was　a　Jew）　I　was　opening　the
  sail…cloth。　　Within　was　a　piece　of　linen　which　had　been　oiled　to　keep
  out　water；　addressed　in　some　red　pigment　to　myself　or　my　father。　　This；
  too；　I　opened；　not　without　difficulty；　for　it　was　carefully　sewn　up；　and
  found　within　it　a　letter…packet；　also　addressed　to　myself　or　my　father；
  in　the　handwriting　of　Marie。
  Great　Heaven！　　How　my　heart　jumped　at　that　sight！　　Calling　to　Hans　to
  make　the　smous　comfortable　and　give　him　food；　I　went　into　my　own　room；
  and　there　read　the　letter；　which　ran　thus：
  〃MY　DEAR　ALLAN；I　do　not　know　whether　the　other　letters　I　have　written
  to　you　have　ever　come　to　your　hands；　or　indeed　if　this　one　will。　　Still；
  I　send　it　on　chance　by　a　wandering　Portuguese　half…breed　who　is　going　to
  Delagoa　Bay；　about　fifty　miles；　I　believe；　from　the　place　where　I　now
  write；　near　the　Crocodile　River。　　My　father　has　named　it　Maraisfontein；
  after　our　old　home。　　If　those　letters　reached　you；　you　will　have　learned
  of　the　terrible　things　we　went　through　on　our　journey；　the　attacks　by
  the　Kaffirs　in　the　Zoutpansberg　region；　who　destroyed　one　of　our　parties
  altogether；　and　so　forth。　　If　not；　all　that　story　must　wait；　for　it　is
  too　long　to　tell　now；　and；　indeed；　I　have　but　little　paper；　and　not　much
  pencil。　　It　will　be　enough　to　say；　therefore；　that　to　the　number　of
  thirty…five　white　people；　men；　women　and　children；　we　trekked　at　the
  beginning　of　the　summer　season；　when　the　grass　was　commencing　to　grow；
  from