ithered bushes, the Vrouw van Wyck heard that last cry and
lifted her head as a torrent of shooting answered it. The
Kafirs and the Burghers were at grips, and it seemed that
all around her the night rustled with secret men that slunk
about. There was great danger to her at last, for either in
going forward or going back she might fall into the hands
of the Kafirs, and--oh, you can never tell what that may
mean! At the best and choicest it is death, but at the
worst it is torment with loathly outrage, the torment and
the degradation of Sheol. Anna knew that, knew it well and
feared it. That daunted her, and as the thought grew
clearer in her mind, dread gripped her, and she huddled
among the stones with ears alert and a heart that clacked
as it beat.

"Noises threatened her, and to them, the casual noises of
the night, she gave ear anxiously, while above her the
fight raged direfully and all unheard. At one time she
truly saw naked Kafirs go up the hill,--the light of the
fire glinted on the points of their assegais and threw a
dull gleam on the muscle-rippled skin of them. Next, stones
falling made her start, and ere this alarm was passed she
heard the unmistakable clatter of shod feet among the
boulders, and--plain and loud--an oath as some man stumbled.
He was already to be seen, vaguely; then he was near at
hand, coming upon her.

"'Now, what in God's name is this?' she cried, and rose.
In her hand was the little blunt-nosed revolver.

"The man ran through a bush towards her, 'Anna,' he cried,
'Anna!'

"It was Andreas, and he took hold of her body and pressed
her close to him.

"She thrilled with a superb exaltation of pride and joy,
and put her arms about him.

"'What are you doing here?' he demanded.

"'I was coming to you,' she said, and with a little laugh,
as of a girl, she showed him the basket, with the bottles
yet in it. 'And you?' she asked, then.

"'Me?' he said. 'Why, I've come for you, of course. The
Kafirs are at the ridge, and God knows what might happen to
you. Was it you I was shooting at down there all the time?'

"'You shot very well,' she answered, and showed him the
hole in her skirt where the bullet had pierced it. She
heard him mutter another oath.

"'But we must be going,' he said; 'this is no place to be
talking--no place at all. We must get round to the laager
again. Let me have your arm, and tread quietly, and we must
leave the basket.'

"'Not I,' she answered. 'I have