‘So I am. I only hope that if ever I marry, I may get a man as good as they are for a husband.’
‘Daniel is going to get married soon, is he not?’
‘Yes, within three months, probably. Do you think he looks sickly, or unhealthy?’
‘No; on the contrary, I think he looks remarkably healthy and strong. Why do you ask?’
‘Because, a few days ago, I came into his room; he was looking at the photo of his intended; tears were in his eyes. I asked him, “What is the matter?” He replied that he loved her so much, and that yet she would never be his wife. “What! never your wife!” I said, “and you are going to be married in a few months to her; what do you mean?” He replied that _he felt it in his heart_; he did not know why, unless _he should die before the time came_. And then he told me that I was to take his Bible, if he should die, and his sweetheart his new hymn book, and other things he told me to give to mother and father, as well as something for Ignatious. The foolish boy, as if he were going to die so soon; the idea is ridiculous; and yet, if he should die, I don’t know what we should do without him.’
‘Oh, you need not fear for him, he is strong and healthy enough to outlive us both.’
No more was said, and Steve did not think much of what was said, but he had reason sooner than he could have thought, to recall this conversation.
At last they started, and all hoped to have better luck than the day before. Steve was a fairly good shot at a target, in fact he was (like most South Africans) a born shot; but he had never had a chance to practise rifle shooting at a distance at real game, but he was a good hand at bird shooting with a shot-gun. Ever since he was a boy of twelve, he used to scrape his pennies together to buy powder and shot, and go pigeon-shooting with an old muzzle-loading shot-gun, which had formerly belonged to his father, and a good hand he learned to be at it by such practice. It was one of the few kinds of sport he enjoyed; he loved shooting. For the above reasons, Steve longed to bring down a real antelope of some kind, but he was doomed to disappointment. The game was too shy, and kept at a distance, requiring a really good shot to bring them down. Theron was the only one to kill that day. After a long walk in the hot sun and among the trees, Theron succeeded, by taking a good steady aim (and being told what sight to put on by Oom Ignatious) at a buck standing broadside on, unaware of their presence, in bringing it down. Oom Ignatious refused to shoot, as he said he did not like to spoil their sport, but inwardly he thought that, after the previous day’s occurrence--of which he had been told by Steve--it would be too unkind to humiliate the poor young greenhorns by a display of his accurate aim, for he knew that with him to shoot was to kill. The sun was hot and heavy, thunder-clouds were beginning to rapidly cover the sky, so it was determined to return home as fast as possible before the heavy storm, which was surely coming on, broke on them.