Mrs. Dove, frail,
delicate, grey-haired, placed her foot upon the disselboom and hesitated,
for to her the ground seemed far off, and the heels of the cattle very
near.
"Jump," said Rachel in her clear, laughing voice, as she smacked the near
after-ox to make it turn round, which it did obediently, for all the team
knew her. "I'll catch you."
But her mother still hesitated, so thrusting her way between the ox and
the front wheel Rachel stretched out her arms and lifted her bodily to the
ground.
"How strong you are, my love!" said her mother, with a sort of wondering
admiration and a sad little smile; "it seems strange to think that I ever
carried you."
"One had need to be in this country, dear," replied Rachel cheerfully.
"Come and walk a little way, you must be stiff with sitting in that horrid
waggon," and she led her quite to the top of the knoll. "There," she
added, "isn't the view lovely? I never saw such a pretty place in all
Africa. And oh! look at those buck, and yes--that is a rhinoceros. I hope
it won't charge us."
Mrs. Dove obeyed, gazing first at the glorious sea, then at the plain and
the trees, and lastly behind her at the towering cliff steeped in
shadow--for the sun was westering--down the face of which the waterfall
seemed to hang like a silver rope.
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