he handed over that document to John.
It was in the same handwriting as the letter, but signed by the Boer
general.

John examined it, and then called to Jess to come to translate it, who,
having heard the voice of the Boer, was on her way round the corner of
the house.

"It means, 'Pass the bearers unharmed,'" she said, "and the signature is
genuine. I have seen Paul Kruger's signature before."

"When must we start?" asked John of the Boer.

"At once, or not at all."

"I must drive round by the headquarter camp to explain my departure.
They will think that I have run away."

To this the Boer demurred, but finally, after going to the gate to
consult his companion, he consented and the two rode back to the
headquarter camp, saying that they would wait for the cart there,
whereupon the horses were inspanned.

In five minutes everything was ready, and the cart was standing on the
roadway in front of the little gate. After he had looked to all the
straps and buckles, and seen that the baggage was properly packed, John
went to call Jess. He found her by the doorstep, looking out at her
favourite view. Her hand was placed sideways against her forehead, as
though to shade her eyes from the sun. But where she was standing there
was no sun, and John could not help guessing why she was shading her
eyes. She was crying at leaving the place in that quiet and harrowing
way which some women indulge in; that is to say, a few big tears were
rolling down her face. John felt a lump rise in his own throat at the
sight, and not unnaturally relieved his feelings by rough language.

"What the deuce are you after?" he asked. "Are you going to keep the
horses standing all day?"

Jess did not resent this. The probability is that she guessed its
reason. Besides, it is a melancholy fact that women rather like being
sworn at than otherwise, provided that the swearer is the man whom they
are attached to. But he must only swear on state occasions. At this
moment, too, Mrs. Neville plunged out of the house, licking an envelope
as she ran.

"There," she said, "I hope you weren't waiting for me. I haven't told
the old gentleman half the news; in fact, I've only taken him down to
the time when the communications were cut, and I dare say he has seen
all that in the papers. But he won't understand anything about it, and
if he does he will guess the rest; besides, for all I know, he may be
dead and buried by now. I shall have to owe you for th