"I know," said Marais uneasily, "my nephew has been too fortunate in
life, and is somewhat overbearing in his manner. He does not remember
that the battle is not always to the strong or the race to the swift, he
who is young and rich and handsome, a spoiled child from the first. I
am sorry, but what I cannot help I must put up with. If I cannot have my
mealies cooked, I must eat them green. Also, Allan, have you never heard
that jealousy sometimes makes people rude and unjust?" and he looked at
me meaningly.

I made no answer, for when one does not quite know what to say it is
often best to remain silent, and he went on:

"I am vexed to hear of this foolish shooting match which has been
entered into without my knowledge or consent. If he wins he will only
laugh at you the more, and if you win he will be angry."

"It was not my fault, mynheer," I answered. "He wanted to force me
to sell the mare, which he had been riding without my leave, and kept
bragging about his marksmanship. So at last I grew cross and challenged
him."

"No wonder, Allan; I do not blame you. Still, you are silly, for it will
not matter to him if he loses his money; but that beautiful mare is your
ewe-lamb, and I should be sorry to see you parted from a beast which has
done us so good a turn. Well, there it is; perhaps circumstances may yet
put an end to this trial; I hope so."

"I hope they won't," I answered stubbornly.

"I dare say you do, being sore as a galled horse just now. But listen,
Allan, and you, too, predicant Quatermain; there are other and more
important reasons than this petty squabble why I should be glad if you
could go away for a while. I must take counsel with my countrymen about
certain secret matters which have to do with our welfare and future,
and, of course they would not like it if all the while there were two
Englishmen on the place, whom they might think were spies."

"Say no more, Heer Marais," broke in my father hotly; "still less should
we like to be where we are not wanted or are looked upon with suspicion
for the crime of being English. By God's blessing, my son has been able
to do some service to you and yours, but now that is all finished and
forgotten. Let the cart you are so kind as to lend us be inspanned. We
will go at once."

Then Henri Marais, who was a gentleman at bottom, although, even
in those early days, violent and foolish when excited or under the
influence of his race prejudices, began to ap