nderstand that there is one thing which will never happen.'

"'What is that?' asked my cousin.

"'It will never happen that I shall marry you, Hernan,' I replied.

"'Who knows, Marie, who knows?' he said.

"'I do, Hernan,' I answered. 'Even if Allan were to die to-morrow, I
would not marry you, either then or twenty years hence. I am glad that
he has saved your life, but henceforth we are cousins, nothing more.'

"'You hear what the girl tells us,' said my father; 'why do you not give
up the business? What is the use of kicking against the pricks?'

"'If one wears stout boots and kicks hard enough, the pricks give way,'
said Hernan. 'Six months is a long time, my uncle.'

"'It may be so, cousin,' I said; 'but remember that neither six months
nor six years, nor six thousand years, are long enough to make me marry
any man except Allan Quatermain, who has just rescued you from death. Do
you understand?'

"'Yes,' he replied, 'I understand that you will not marry me. Only then
I promise that you shall not marry either Allan Quatermain or any other
man.'

"'God will decide that,' I answered, and came away, leaving him and my
father together. And now, Allan, tell me all that has happened since we
parted."

So I told her everything, including the Vrouw Prinsloo's advice.

"Of course, Allan, you were quite right," she remarked when I had
finished; "but I am not sure that the Vrouw Prinsloo was not also right
in her own fashion. I am afraid of my cousin Hernan, who holds my father
in his hand--fast, fast. Still, we have promised, and must keep our
word."

CHAPTER XI. THE SHOT IN THE KLOOF

I think it was about three weeks after these events that we began our
southward trek. On the morning subsequent to our arrival at Marais's
camp, Pereira came up to me when several people were present, and,
taking my hand, thanked me in a loud voice for having saved his life.
Thenceforward, he declared, I should be dearer to him than a brother,
for was there not a blood bond between us?

I answered I did not think any such bond existed; indeed, I was not sure
what it meant. I had done my duty by him, neither less nor more, and
there was nothing further to be said.

It turned out, however, that there was a great deal further to be said,
since Pereira desired to borrow money, or, rather, goods, from me. He
explained that owing to the prejudices of the vulgar Boers who remained
alive in that camp, and especially of the scand