n the lean, muscular calf of which one of the
smallest of the wicked little splinters had, as Rasu the Sweeper dived for
the waggon, found a home.

"That has saved you a well-earned hiding, so thank your stars for it. Let
the Kaffir see to it that he insults no more English ladies, or he shall
pay for every word with an inch of skin. Now put up your leg." Saxham
whipped out the splinter with a little pair of tweezers, deftly cleansed
and dressed the wound, bandaged it, and, dismissing Rasu the Sweeper with
a caution, was coming across to the Reverend Mother when a chorus of cries
and piercing shrieks broke forth:

"Mijn jongen! mijn jongen!"

She was a bulky Dutch vrouw, with a dishevelled head of coarse black hair,
and a dirty cotton gown, and dirty bare feet in bulgy shoes that were
trodden down at heel. But with her livid, purple face and protruding,
bloodshot eyeballs uplifted to the drifting cloud of greenish lyddite
vapour that thinned away overhead, she was great and terrible, and the
very incarnation of Maternity Bereft.

One huge arm gripped the little body to her broad, panting bosom. She had
called him, and he had not answered; she had sought and found him, just as
he had slidden off the box-seat, where he had been playing driver of the
ox-span, lying curled up against the dashboard, the little whip of stick
and string he had been at pains to make only yesterday fallen from the
lax, childish hand. The fair hair on the left temple was dabbled in blood,
that trickled from the tiny three-cornered bluish hole. His eyes were
open, as if in wonder at the sudden darkness that had fallen at bright
midday; the smile had frozen on the parted, innocent lips....

Oh, look at this, Premier and President! Look at this, my Lords and
Commons and militant Burghers of Republican States! Grave Ministers who
decide in Cabinet Councils that the prestige of the Government you
represent is at stake, and that the bedraggled honour of the Country can
only be washed clean in one red river, flowing from the veins of Humanity,
look, look here! You who lust for Sovereignty, hiding rapacious Ambitions
and base lust for gold behind the splendid ermined folds of the Imperial
purple. You who resented Suzerainty, coveting to keep in your hands riches
that you could not use, resources that your ignorance could not develop,
greedy to have and hold what you wrested from the Sons of Ham, lest white
men should snatch it back from you again; an