which was to exchange their long Martinis for a Mauser rifle
apiece--a weapon which had not then, openly at any rate, reached the
Wildschutsberg section of country, and which they fished out from some
hidden recess. Cartridges and a bottle of `dop' they placed in a
haversack, and with a significant injunction to their fellow-countrymen
there gathered, to keep the Englishman talking and making merry as late
as possible, they rode off into the veldt again, taking a line which
would put them out of sight of the house in about three minutes.

"He knows too much, that damned Englishman," snarled Gideon Roux,
shading a match to light his pipe, while his steed took him along at a
fast "triple." He was a sinister-looking, swarthy-faced Boer, with a
short black beard and a great hooked nose like the beak of a bird of
prey. "We must teach him--him and his Hottentot--not to come pushing
his snout into other people's affairs."

"That is so," assented the other. "But, Gideon, what if there is a
noise made about it, and they are found afterwards? The English will
hang us. And he is a friend of Oom Stephanus."

"_Maagtig_! By the time they are found the English will not be here to
hang anybody, and we, _ou' maat_ [old chum]--we shall have deserved the
thanks of all true patriots for having put out of the way an enemy of
our country. Oom Stephanus--well, he is a patriot now, his own nephew,
Adrian De la Rey, told me so. What is one cursed Englishman more than
another to a good patriot. He cannot be a friend to such."

"That is so," replied the big Boer laconically.

For about an hour they kept on their way, and their way was a rough one,
for they avoided the regular track, winding in and out among the
mountains, now putting their horses up a steep boulder-strewn slope,
then being obliged to dismount in order to lead the animals down a kind
of natural rock staircase. Finally, they drew rein upon a neck, where,
lying between two great boulders, themselves utterly invisible from
below, they could command the broken, winding, rocky track for some
little distance, either way.

"He cannot be here yet," said Gideon Roux as he scanned the road, which,
like a snake, wound along the valley beneath. "Hans Vermaak will see to
that. Only, I hope Katrina will not let them have too much to drink.
Hans is quite fool enough to get drunk and jolly, and insist on the
Englishman stopping the night Hans is the devil to drink, and then he