ce scorn, "to dream of such a
thing! Can you think so ill of me? No, _schelm_, scoundrel that you
are, you know you cannot! Is this your final answer. Do you still
refuse me water?"

"I do," he returned; "_unless_..."

She turned away with a fierce, hopeless gesture, and left him.

How Hendrika Van Staden passed the next eight hours she could never
satisfactorily describe, even to herself. Slowly the hot day came up,
and slowly passed upon leaden wings. Andries was sent out to scour the
bush for any bulbs or roots that might contain moisture. But, alas!
just in this locality none such could be found. Meanwhile, Barend
rapidly grew worse; the fever pressed more hardly upon him, the thirst
became more intolerable; convulsions were succeeded by coma. It seemed
that the end was near. The water-bearers from Inkouane still tarried;
every moment became more distracting, more agonising, for the wretched
mother.

Suddenly a terrible thought flashed through her brain, and no sooner was
it conceived than her mind was made up. She went softly to her wagon,
took down her husband's Martini-Henry carbine from the hooks on which it
reposed, drew it from its lion-skin cover, and pulled two cartridges
from a bandolier; one she pushed into the breech of the carbine, the
other she thrust into her bosom, and then, carrying the gun behind her,
she walked straight across to Oosthuysen's camp. The Boer happened to
be sitting in the shade at the back of the wagon, and heard nothing of
her approach till her voice rang sharply through the hot air.

"Meneer Oosthuysen, I want you!"

Schalk sprang up with alacrity. No doubt, he thought to himself, he had
conquered. His vile offer was to be accepted. There was a strange set
look in the woman's beautiful eyes as he faced her. Her head was thrown
back in the way he knew so well of yore, her white throat was displayed,
her arms were behind her back. A little defiant, perhaps, in her
yielding, but still she was to be his. Never, he thought, had she
looked more noble.

"Schalk," she said, in her firm, clear voice, "I must have that water."

"Well," he replied, "it is yours. You know my terms."

"Almighty God!" she gasped; "then you _will_ have it! See here, this
gun is loaded. If you hand me half your water, I'll forgive all your
brutality; if not, I'll shoot you dead. Choose, and in one instant!"

The Boer evidently imagined it was a mere case of "bluff," and he grew
an