to the ford, but it no longer had any terrors for us. We were nearly across when the wheels seemed to drive heavily, and a curious crackling from behind arrested us. “It’s the kerosene tin!” I exclaimed. It was jammed between the wheel and the side of the buggy, and the handle had come off. I grabbed at it desperately, but it got free and floated swiftly out of reach. Duncan, seeing it thus, kicked his horse in the ribs and rode after it, and we watched a wild chase down stream, sometimes he just had his hand on it, and the horse swerved or the river bore it away, and off they went again. At last we saw him jump into the water, and he returned triumphant and soon patched up another handle, and on we went once more.
We had just got to the Niger Hut, with its memories of bottomless beds and hungry cows, when a grinding crash came and the wheel jammed. The kerosene tin again!—but Duncan to the rescue; and this time, when with tugs and jerks and objurgations he freed it, we tied it in a better place, and forward good Berline once more.
And now we took farewell of Mr. Macpherson. He had been kindness itself, and we had learned to like and respect the Highland family up in their lonely home. We watched him ride away till he and his dogs were but moving dots on the wide stretch of grey stones; then we trotted gaily over the grassy track, and pulled up at Mrs. Ross’s: as usual a feast was ready—roast lamb, junket, and
