t out of it. He undid it. There
was the bottle of three-star brandy untouched, also most of the eggs,
meat, and bread, the last, of course, sodden and worthless. It did not
take long to draw the cork, and then John filled a broken wineglass
there was in the basket half full of water and half of brandy, and made
Jess drink it, with the result that she began to look a little less like
a corpse. Next, he repeated the process twice on his own account, and
instantly felt as though new life were flowing into him. Then they went
on cautiously.

The horses allowed themselves to be caught without trouble, and did not
appear to be any the worse for the adventure, although the flank of one
was grazed by a bullet.

"There is a tree yonder where the bank shelves over; we had better
tie the horses up, dress, and eat some breakfast," said John, almost
cheerfully; and accordingly they proceeded towards it. Suddenly John,
who was ahead, started back with an exclamation of fear, and the horses
began to snort, for there, stark and stiff in death, already swollen
and discoloured by decomposition--as is sometimes the case with people
killed by lightning--the rifles in their hands twisted and fused, their
clothes cut and blown from their bandoliers--lay the two Boer murderers.
It was a terrifying sight, and, taken in conjunction with their own
remarkable escape, one to make the most careless and sceptical reflect.

"And yet there are people who say that there is no God, and no
punishment for wickedness," said John aloud.

CHAPTER XXV

MEANWHILE

John, it will be remembered, left Mooifontein for Pretoria towards the
end of December, and with him went all the life and light of the place.

"Dear me, Bessie," said old Silas Croft on the evening after he had
started, "the house seems very dull without John"--a remark in which
Bessie, who was weeping secretly in the corner, heartily concurred.

Then, a few days afterwards, came the news of the investment of
Pretoria, but no news of John. They ascertained that he had passed
Standerton in safety, but beyond that nothing could be heard of him. Day
after day passed, but without tidings, and at last, one evening, Bessie
broke into a passion of hysterical tears.

"What did you send him for?" she asked of her uncle. "It was
ridiculous--I knew that it was ridiculous. He could not help Jess or
bring her back; the most that could happen was that they would be both
shut up together. Now he is