t wizard's talk," said Muller, his teeth chattering
with fear and agitation. "Take the horse, groom and feed him well; he
has galloped far, and we start at dawn. Stop, tell me, where are the
lights and the brandy? If you have drunk the brandy I will flog you."

"They are on the shelf to the left as you go in, Baas, and there is
flesh too, and bread."

Muller swung himself from the saddle and entered the hut, pushing
open the cranky, broken-hinged door with a kick. He found the box of
Tandstickor matches, and, after one or two attempts--due chiefly to his
shaking hand--succeeded in striking fire and lighting a coarse dip such
as the Boers make out of mutton fat. Near the candle were a bottle of
peach brandy two thirds full, a tin pannikin and a jug of river water.
Seizing the pannikin, he half filled it with spirit, added a little
water, and drank off the mixture. Then he took the meat and bread from
the same shelf, and, cutting some of each with his clasp-knife, tried
to eat. But he could not swallow much, and soon gave up the attempt,
consoling himself instead with the brandy.

"Bah!" he said, "the stuff tastes like hell fire;" and he filled his
pipe and sat smoking.

Presently Hendrik came in to say that the horse was eating well, and
turned to go out again, when his master beckoned him to stop. The man
was surprised, for generally his master was not fond of his society,
except when he wanted to consult him or persuade him to exercise his
pretended art of divination. The truth was, however, that at the moment
Frank Muller would have been glad to consort with a dog. The events of
the night had brought this terrible man, steeped in iniquity from his
youth up, down to the level of a child frightened at the dark. For a
while he sat in silence, the Kafir squatting on the ground at his feet.
Presently, however, the doses of powerful spirit took effect on him,
and he began to talk more unguardedly than was his custom, even with his
black "familiar" Hendrik.

"How long have you been here?" he asked of his retainer.

"About four days, Baas."

"Did you take my letter to _Oom_ Croft's?"

"Yah, Baas. I gave it to the missie."

"What did she do?"

"She read it, and then stood like this, holding on to the verandah
pole;" and he opened his mouth and one eye, twisting up his hideous
countenance into a ghastly imitation of Bessie's sorrow-stricken face,
and gripping the post that supported the hut to give verisimilitude to