aid the Dutchman, somewhat flurriedly.

"Oh, the usual way, Hans."

"_So_? You are going home, then."

"Oh yes."

"But you must not. Klip Poort is bad to go through at night _Ja_, it is
bad, very bad. Go some other road. There is the road to Stephanus De
la Rey's, for instance. Go by it."

"But it is about twice the distance," objected Colvin, who began to read
considerable meaning into the other's anxiety regarding his movements.

"That matters nothing. Look, you are a good sort of Englishman and I
like you. Klip Poort is bad to go through at night, very bad."

"Very well, Hans, I'll take your advice. So long."

Klip Poort, the point referred to, was a narrow, rugged defile overhung
with large rocks, about five miles on his homeward way. As well as the
road passing through, it likewise gave passage to the Sneeuw River,
which, when full to any great extent, flooded the roadway to some depth.
It might very well be to this form of danger that the Boer's hidden
warning applied, and yet some unaccountable instinct warned Colvin that
it was not.

"Gert."

"Baas?"

"Did you hear what Hans Vermaak was saying just now?"

"Part of it, sir."

"Why do you think he wanted us not to go back by way of Klip Poort?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Gert, you are an ass."

"Perhaps he thought the river might be `down,' sir. The clouds are very
thick and black up in the _bergen_."

"Yes."

An indescribable feeling of helpless apprehensiveness came over Colvin,
and indeed it is a creepy thing the consciousness that at any step
during the next half-dozen miles or so you are a target for a concealed
enemy whose marksmanship is unerring. For this was about what he had
reduced the situation to in his own mind, and within the same heartily
anathematised the foolish curiosity which had moved him to go up and
explore the hiding-place of the concealed arms. That Gideon Roux and
his confederate were aware that he shared their secret he now believed.
They must have waited to watch him, and have seen him come out of the
cave; and with this idea the full force of Vermaak's warning came home
to him.

But was that warning genuine? Was it not destined rather to induce him
to take the other way? It was impossible to determine. Sorely
perplexed, he rode on, thinking the matter over, and that deeply. The
sky overhead grew darker and darker with the spread of a great cloud--
the earth with the fall of evening. There was a m