CHAPTER V.
THE OLD HOMESTEAD.
And the bush hath friends to meet him,
And their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid
Of the sun-lit plains extended,
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars.
We pushed open the door and inspected our quarters, and after my night in the Niger I was not so hard to please, and quite ready to think them all they should be. At any rate, doors and windows were fairly intact—the chimney, it is true, left something to be desired; the last party of rabbiters had repaired the holes with old sacking and grass, with the result that when we lighted a fire we nearly set the cottage in a blaze! The men rushed and tore down the burning stuff and filled up the holes with some old tins and sods, and I stood with the kerosene tin full of water ready to help.
After this I hurriedly unpacked something for lunch, as Mr. Ross wanted to go back ere the ford got too deep, and we sat down in cheerful spirits to herrings and tomato, tongue, bread and butter, and tea; after which he set out homewards, and we turned our attention to settling in.
