the sun
never sets. And the challenge had been met in the only possible way,
and once more two Christian and civilised races were shedding each
other's blood like water, while countless swarms of dark-skinned and
savage heathen stood by and looked on.

CHAPTER THREE.

HIS HONOUR THE PRESIDENT.

"We shall have to turn you into a prisoner of war, Colvin," said Piet
Plessis a week or so after the breaking out of hostilities. "And, as I
feel sort of responsible for your safe custody, my orders to you as your
custodian are to go over to the Grand, now, at once, and pack up your
traps and bring them here. I'd have suggested it before, but everything
was so _uit-makaar_, and I didn't know whether you might not have been
wanting to go down-country again."

Whereby it is manifest that the inquiries we heard Piet promise to set
afloat had turned out satisfactory, albeit their burden and the result
he had characteristically kept to himself.

"No. I don't feel that way inclined, Piet," answered Colvin. "I am a
sort of cosmopolitan rover, without ties--except such as are here," he
added significantly. "Besides, it's more interesting watching the row
from behind your lines than from behind those of the other side. By the
way, we are quite alone, just the two of us. What show do you think
your crowd has got?"

"What show?" said the other, after an instinctive glance on either side.
"Look here, Colvin. You're one of us now. If anybody who wasn't had
asked me that question I should have said: `It is all in the hands of
Providence, and our cause is just.' Now I say: `It is all within the
potentialities of politics, and the potentialities of politics spell
Uncertainty.' What show? Every show. We shall see. But if you really
are wanting to go down-country any time later, I dare say I could always
get you through the lines."

"Oh, we'll think of that later. I might feel inclined to go and see
some of the fighting--"

"What's that? What might you feel inclined to do?" interrupted the
voice of Aletta, who with Mrs Plessis had just come out on the back
_stoep_, where the above conversation was taking place. "Colvin, I am
astonished at you! See some of the fighting indeed! Do you think I
shall let you?"

She had locked her hands together round his arm, just resting her head
against his shoulder, and stood facing the other two, with the prettiest
air of possession. Piet Plessis spluttered:

"Ho, ho! Colvin