swered Meyer gloomily; "she thinks that, and she is one of
those who have vision. Well, she may be wrong. Also, the question is,
shall we seize our opportunity and its dangers, or remain here and breed
bad horses all our lives, while she who is not afraid laughs at us? I am
going to Bambatse."

Again Mr. Clifford made no direct answer, only asked a question:

"How long will it take to get the guns and ammunition, and what will
they cost?"

"About a week from Wakkerstroom," replied Meyer. "Old Potgieter,
the trader there, has just imported a hundred Martinis and a hundred
Westley-Richards falling-blocks. Fifty of each, with ten thousand rounds
of cartridges, will cost about L600, and we have as much as that in the
bank; also we have the new waggon, and plenty of good oxen and horses.
We can take a dozen of the horses with us, and sell them in the north
of the Transvaal for a fine price, before we get into the tetsefly
belt. The oxen will probably carry us through, as they are most of them
salted."

"You have thought it all out, Jacob, I see; but it means a lot of money
one way and another, to say nothing of other things."

"Yes, a lot of money, and those rifles are too good for Kaffirs.
Birmingham gas-pipes would have done for them, but there are none to be
had. But what is the money, and what are the guns, compared to all they
will bring us?"

"I think you had better ask my daughter, Jacob. She seems to have her
own ideas upon the subject."

"Miss Clifford has made up her mind, and it will not change. I shall ask
her no more," replied Meyer.

Then he, too, left the room, to give orders about the journey to
Wakkerstroom that he must take upon the morrow. But Mr. Clifford sat
there till past midnight, wondering whether he had done right, and if
they would find the treasure of which he had dreamed for years, and what
the future had in store for them.

If only he could have seen!

When Benita came to breakfast the next morning, she asked where Mr.
Meyer was, and learned that he had already departed for Wakkerstroom.

"Certainly he is in earnest," she said with a laugh.

"Yes," answered her father; "Jacob is always in earnest, though,
somehow, his earnestness has not brought him much good so far. If we
fail, it will not be want of thought and preparation on his part."

Nearly a week went by before Meyer returned again, and meanwhile Benita
made ready for her journey. In the intervals of her simple preparati