else, until he grew too old to hunt, when he intended to take to farming.

His story done, Rachel told him hers, to which he listened eagerly.

"Is your father mad?" he asked when she had finished.

"No," she answered. "How dare you suggest it? He is only very good; much
better than anybody else."

"Well, it seems to come to much the same thing, doesn't it?" said Richard,
"for otherwise he would not have sent you to gather gooseberries here with
such a storm coming on."

"Then why did your father send you to hunt lions with such a storm coming
on?" she asked.

"He didn't send me. I came of myself; I said that I wanted to shoot a
buck, and finding the spoor of a lion I followed it. The waggons must be a
long way ahead now, for when I left them I returned to that kloof where I
had seen the buck. I don't know how I shall overtake them again, and
certainly nobody will ever think of looking for me here, as after this
rain they can't spoor the horse."

"Supposing you don't find it--I mean your horse--tomorrow, what shall you
do?" asked Rachel. "We haven't got any to lend you."

"Walk and try to catch them up," he replied.

"And if you can't catch them up?"