round was an Englishman, dressed in a
blouse, and with a heavy, sullen face. On the stone beside him was Dirk,
the Hottentot, sharpening a bowie knife.

She held her breath. Not a cony in all the rocks was so still.

"They can never find me here," she said; and she knelt, and listened to
every word they said. She could hear it all.

"You may have all the money," said the Bushman; "but I want the cask of
brandy. I will set the roof alight in six places, for a Dutchman burnt
my mother once alive in a hut, with three children."

"You are sure there is no one else on the farm?" said the navvy.

"No, I have told you till I am tired," said Dirk; "The two Kaffirs have
gone with the son to town; and the maids have gone to a dance; there is
only the old man and the two women left."

"But suppose," said the navvy, "he should have the gun at his bedside,
and loaded!"

"He never has," said Dirk; "it hangs in the passage, and the cartridges
too. He never thought when he bought it what work it was for! I only
wish the little white girl was there still," said Dirk; "but she is
drowned. We traced her footmarks to the great pool that has no bottom."

She listened to every word, and they talked on.

Afterwards, the little Bushman, who crouched over the fire, sat up
suddenly, listening.

"Ha! what is that?" he said.

A Bushman is like a dog: his ear is so fine he knows a jackal's tread
from a wild dog's.

"I heard nothing," said the navvy.

"I heard," said the Hottentot; "but it was only a cony on the rocks."

"No cony, no cony," said the Bushman; "see, what is that there moving in
the shade round the point?"

"Nothing, you idiot!" said the navvy. "Finish your meat; we must start
now."

There were two roads to the homestead. One went along the open plain,
and was by far the shortest; but you might be seen half a mile off. The
other ran along the river bank, where there were rocks, and holes, and
willow trees to hide among. And all down the river bank ran a little
figure.

The river was swollen by the storm full to its banks, and the willow
trees dipped their half-drowned branches into its water. Wherever there
was a gap between them, you could see it flow, red and muddy, with the
stumps upon it. But the little figure ran on and on; never looking,
never thinking; panting, panting! There, where the rocks were the
thickest; there, where on the open space the moonlight shone; there,
where the prickly pears were tangled,