ed about her for her life with clever
plunging shots that flicked the dirt up. One bullet whisked
through a piece of her skirt.

"'Now, I wonder if it can be Andreas who shoots so neatly,'
said Anna, half-smiling to herself. 'He would be surprised
if he knew what he is shooting at. Dear me, this is a very
long and tiresome hill.'

"It was almost at that moment that she heard it--the
beginning of the rush. There came up the hill, like a slow
and solemn drum-music, the droning war-song of the Kafirs
as they moved forward in face of the fire. It was an awful
thing to hear, that bloody rhythm booming through the dome
of the night. It is a song I have heard in the daytime, for
a show, and it rings like heavy metal. Anna straightened
herself and looked about her; there was nothing else for it
but that she must start a fire, ere the battle-line swept
up and on to the laager. It would draw more shooting upon
her; but that gave her no pause. She had matches in her
pocket, and fumbled about her and found a little thorn-bush
that crackled while it tore her naked hands. Crouching by
it, she dragged a bunch of the matches across the side of
the box,--they spluttered and flamed, and she thrust them
into the bush. It took light slowly, for there were yet the
dregs of sap in it; but as it lighted, the deft rifleman
squirted bullet after bullet all around her, aiming on the
weakling flame she nursed with her bleeding hands.

"But for this she had no care at all. She had ceased to
perceive it. Sheltering the place with her body, she drew
out more matches, tore up grass, and built the little flame
to a blaze that promised to hold and grow. As it cracked
among the twigs, she wrenched the bush from the ground and
ran forward with it upheld.

"'Burghers, Burghers!' she screamed. 'Pas op! The Kafirs
are coming up the hill!'

"And whirling it widely she flung the burning bush from her
with all her force, and watched its fire spread in the
grass where it fell. Then she, too, fell down, and lay
among the rocks and plants, scarcely breathing.

"Up above, the old commandant, peering under the pent of
his hand, saw the torch waved and the figure that flung it.

"'Allemachtag!' he cried. 'It's the Vrouw van Wyck!'

"The next instant he was shouting, 'And here come the
Kafirs! Shoot, Burghers, shoot straight and hard.'

"Where she lay, near the fire that now spread across the
flank of the hill in broad bands among the dry grass and
w