"Lady, among us black people he is named Ibubesi (lion), but his white
name is Hishmel."

"Hishmel, Hishmel?" said Rachel. "Oh! I know, he means Ishmael. There,
mother, I told you he was something biblical, and of course Ishmael dwelt
in the wilderness, didn't he, after his father had behaved so badly to
poor Hagar, and was a wild man whose hand was against every man's."

"Rachel, Rachel," said her mother suppressing a little smile. "Your father
would be very angry if he heard you. You should not speak lightly of holy
persons."

"Well, mother, Abraham may have been a holy person, but we should think
him a mean old thing nowadays, almost as mean as Sarah. You know they were
most of them mean, so what is the use of pretending they were not?"

Then without waiting for an answer she asked the Kaffir again: "Where does
the Inkoos Ishmael dwell?"

"In the wilderness," answered the man appropriately. "Now his kraal is
yonder, two hours' ride away. It is called Mafooti," and he pointed over
the top of the precipice, adding: "he is a hunter and trades with the
Zulus."

"Is he Dutch?" asked Rachel, whose curiosity was excited.

The Kaffir shook his head. "No, he hates the Dutch; he is of the people of
George."