"

"Some, I think, murderer," but as I spoke the words a chill of fear
struck me. It was true, I could prove nothing, having no witnesses, and
henceforward I should be a Cain among the Boers, one who had slain a man
for jealousy. His gun was empty; yes, but it might be said that I had
fired it after his death. And as for the graze upon my cheek--why, a
twig might have caused it. What should I do, then? Drive him before
me to the camp, and tell this tale? Even then it would be but my word
against his. No, he had me in a forked stick. I must let him go, and
trust that Heaven would avenge his crime, since I could not. Moreover,
by now my first rage was cooling, and to execute a man thus--

"Hernan Pereira," I said, "you are a liar and a coward. You tried to
butcher me because Marie loves me and hates you, and you want to force
her to marry you. Yet I cannot shoot you down in cold blood as you
deserve. I leave it to God to punish you, as, soon or late, He will,
here or hereafter; you who thought to slaughter me and trust to the
hyenas to hide your crime, as they would have done before morning. Get
you gone before I change my mind, and be swift."

Without another word he turned and ran swiftly as a buck, leaping from
side to side as he ran, to disturb my aim in case I should shoot.

When he was a hundred yards away or more I, too, turned and ran, never
feeling safe till I knew there was a mile of ground between us.

It was past ten o'clock that night when I got back to the camp, where I
found Hans the Hottentot about to start to look for me, with two of the
Zulus, and told him that I had been detained by accidents to the wagon.
The Vrouw Prinsloo was still up also, waiting to hear of my arrival.

"What was the accident, Allan?" she asked. "It looks as though there had
been a bullet in it," and she pointed to the bloody smear upon my cheek.

I nodded.

"Pereira's?" she asked again.

I nodded a second time.

"Did you kill him?"

"No; I let him go. It would have been said that I murdered him," and I
told her what had happened.

"Ja, Allan," she remarked when I had finished. "I think you were wise,
for you could have proved nothing. But oh! for what fate, I wonder, is
God Almighty saving up that stinkcat. Well, I will go and tell Marie
that you are back safe, for her father won't let her out of the hut so
late; but nothing more unless you wish it."

"No, Tante; I think nothing more, at any rate at present."

H