"We are all much upset," he went on, rubbing his high forehead with his
thin hand. "I suppose it is the heat and this--this--trial of our faith.
What did I come to speak to you about? Oh! I remember; your mother will
eat nothing, and keeps asking for fruit. Do you know where there is any
fruit?"
"It doesn't grow here, father." Then her face brightened, and she added:
"Yes, it does, though. The day that we outspanned in this camp mother and
I went down to the river and walked to that kind of island beyond the dry
donga to get some flowers that grow on the wet ground. I saw lots of Cape
gooseberries there, all quite ripe."
"Then go and get some, dear. You will have plenty of time before dark."
She started up as though to obey, then checked herself and said:
"Mother told me that I was not to go to the river alone, because we saw
the spoor of lions and crocodiles in the mud."
"God will guard you from the lions and the crocodiles, if there are any,"
he answered doggedly, for was not this an opportunity to show his faith?
"You are not afraid, are you?"
"No, father. I am afraid of nothing, perhaps because I don't care what
happens. I will get the basket and go at once."
In another minute she was walking quickly towards the river, a lonely
little figure in that great place.
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