t all. With all my thought and
experience, it had never occurred to me that the wonderful eyes of the
vultures would see the flash of the powder even through the pervading
sunlight, and swerve before the deadly bullet could reach them.

On that night I was indeed a hero in a small way. Even Henri Marais
thawed and spoke to me as a father might to his child, he who always
disliked me in secret, partly because I was an Englishman, partly
because I was everything to his daughter and he was jealous, and partly
for the reason that I stood in the path of his nephew, Hernan Pereira,
whom he either loved or feared, or both. As for the rest of them, men,
women and children, they thanked and blessed me with tears in their
eyes, vowing that, young as I was, thenceforth I and no other should be
their leader. As may be imagined, although it is true that she set down
my success to her meal of bullock's liver and the nap which she had
insisted on my taking, the Vrouw Prinsloo was the most enthusiastic of
them all.

"Look at him," she said, pointing with her fat finger at my
insignificant self and addressing her family. "If only I had such a
husband or a son, instead of you lumps that God has tied to me like
clogs to the heels of a she-ass, I should be happy."

"God did that in order to prevent you from kicking, old vrouw," said
her husband, a quiet man with a vein of sardonic humour. "If only He had
tied another clog to your tongue, I should be happy also"; whereon the
vrouw smacked his head and her children got out of the way sniggering.

But the most blessed thing of all was my interview with Marie. All that
took place between us can best be left to the imagination, since the
talk of lovers, even in such circumstances, is not interesting to
others. Also, in a sense, it is too sacred to repeat. One sentence I
will set down, however, because in the light of after events I feel that
it was prophetic, and not spoken merely by chance. It was at the end of
our talk, as she was handing me back the pistol that I had given her for
a certain dreadful purpose.

"Three times you have saved my life, Allan--once at Maraisfontein, once
from starvation, and now from Dingaan, whose touch would have meant my
death. I wonder whether it will ever be my turn to save yours?"

She looked down for a little while, then lifted her head and laid her
hand upon my shoulder, adding slowly: "Do you know, Allan, I think that
it will at the--" and suddenly sh