ailments might be, I gave in on the
matter.

Now it happened that a few months before some travellers who had guested
at our house gave Suzanne a little rough-haired dog bred of parents
which had been brought from England. Of this dog Suzanne grew very fond,
and when it fell sick of the distemper she was in much distress. So
it came about that one afternoon Suzanne put the dog in a basket, and
taking with her an old Hottentot to carry it, set out upon her grey mare
for the valley where Sihamba lived. Now Sihamba had her hut and the huts
of the few people in her service in a recess at the end of the valley,
so placed that until you were quite on to them you would never have
guessed that they were there. Down this valley Suzanne rode, the
Hottentot with the basket on his head trotting by her side, till turning
the corner she came upon a scene which she had very little expected. In
one part of the open space beyond her, herded by some Kaffirs, were a
number of cattle, sheep and goats. Opposite to them in the shadow under
the hillside stood the huts of Sihamba, and in front of these grew a
large tree. Beneath this tree was Sihamba herself with scarcely any
clothing on her, for she had been stripped, her tiny wrists bound
together behind her back and a rope about her neck, of which one end
was thrown over a bough of the tree. In front of her, laughing brutally,
stood none other than Swart Piet and with him a small crowd of men,
mostly half-breed wanderers of the sort that trek from place to place
claiming hospitality on the grounds of cousinship or poverty, until they
are turned off as a nuisance. Also there were present a few Kaffirs,
either headmen in Swart Piet's pay or some of his dark associates in
witchcraft.

At first Suzanne was inclined to turn her horse and fly, but she was a
brave girl, and the perilous state of the little doctoress moved her to
pity, for where Swart Piet was there she suspected cruelty and wicked
motive. So she rode on, yes, straight up to Swart Piet himself.

"In the name of Heaven what passes here, myn Heer?" she asked.

"Ah! Miss Suzanne, is it you?" he answered. "Well, you have not chosen
a nice time for your visit, for we are about to--hang--this thief and
witch, who has been duly convicted after a fair trial."

"A fair trial," said Suzanne, glancing scornfully at the rabble about
her, "and were these friends of yours the jury? What is her offence?"

"Her offence is that she who lives