his. Who is the young man who opened the door."

"Bywoner."[8]

"Good; then he can come along with us. How many boys have you on this
farm?"

"They have all gone with my man."

"All right, I am going round to see--bring a candle. All right, don't
make a fuss, my good lady. Don't take that lamp; the officer will stay
here while I go out."

The stout _frau_ produced a piece of paper, and laid it on the table
with all the confidence of a poker-player displaying a Royal Flush.
The Tiger picked it up and read:--

"This is to certify that Hans Pretorius can be implicitly
trusted to give all assistance to the military authorities. He
has furnished the required assurances.

"(Signed) L----,
_Resident Magistrate_."

The Tiger held the slip of paper and photograph side by side for a
moment, and then slowly lit the former in the flame of the lamp. The
women and children stood solemnly and watched the blaze. Only the
pretty girl showed any emotion. The faded blue of her eyes seemed to
darken. She said something. It sounded like "hands opper."[9] How the
Dutch hate the English Africander!

The Tiger only laughed as he said, "You wait here, sir, while I go
round the premises. Come along, Mrs Pretorius."

The Intelligence officer had not been alone five minutes before the
door opened and the pretty daughter appeared with a glass of milk on a
tray. The look of indignation had disappeared--a smile lurked on the
pretty features. Now the Intelligence officer was tired and thirsty--a
glass of milk was most refreshing. Moreover, he was an Englishman--a
pretty face was not without its charms for him.

_The Daughter._ "Please, sir, the Kharki[10] is taking Stephanus with
him. You will not let him do that. There will be no one left to look
after the farm and to protect us from the boys."

_Intelligence Officer._ "Who is Stephanus?"

_D._ "He does not stay here; he is" (_then the blue eyes filled with
tears_)--"he is--my sweetheart!"

_I. O._ (_softening_) "But we will not hurt him; you will have him
back in a few days."

_D._ "Who can say? You are going to make him fight, and then I shall
never see him again. Oh, please, sir, don't take him" (_and a hand--a
fair dimpled hand--rested on the Intelligence officer's sleeve_).

_I. O._ (_moving uncomfortably_) "I am afraid that I must; but no harm
shall come to him, that I promise!"

_D._ "But he doesn't know the way, and you will shoot hi