call out "Come in!"

"Why, Aletta!" he exclaimed. And then the words of welcome died in his
throat. This girl was engaged to the Englishman who was to be shot on
the following morning!

"I am going out to Krantz Kop with you, Mynheer." she began. "I know
you will not refuse me a seat in your trap--remembering"--and her voice
was caught back by a sob, which, however, she manfully suppressed.

"But, Aletta, my child, only think. You can be of no use, I fear. Had
you not better resign yourself to the will of the Almighty and remain at
home and pray--while there is yet time?"

Hollow sounding as this commonplace was--claptrap even--it had asserted
itself as a mere veil to mask the speaker's own feelings. Anti-English
or not, he was a good-hearted man, this _predikant_, and then, too,
Aletta had been one of the most brilliant and satisfactory of his
confirmees. He had a great partiality for her.

"_Nee_, Mynheer," she answered, "the time for mere praying has not yet
come. And even if it had, I must _see_ him once more. Don't you
understand? But if you refuse me, I can still go by myself. I have a
horse here, and I will ride all the way, even if I kill the animal."

Her quick, eager decisiveness, the utter misery depicted in her face,
showed him that here was no mere weak girl to be reasoned with and
advised, but a resourceful, determined woman. Here was a side to Aletta
De la Rey's character which was a revelation to the worthy _predikant_.

"Well, well, of course you must go with me, my child," he answered very
kindly. "They are nearly ready for us."

"I have just time to write a line to my father," said Aletta, moving to
a writing table without ceremony. This was no time for trivial
observances she felt. She dashed off a few hasty lines, hasty but
emphatic, and thoroughly lucid and to the point. Her father was not
very far from the Free State border. By an effort he might arrive in
time, and his influence was great.

The _predikant's_ Cape cart was already inspanned, and the attendant
burghers, who were seated in their saddles, stolidly waiting, saluted
her as she appeared. Gert Bondelzwart, too, was all ready.

"Gert," she said in a low tone, "you know your shortest, straightest
way. Do not lose a minute, even if you kill the horse. A minute may
mean a life remember. No one will attempt to stop you, for I have put
that upon the letter which will open a way for you anywhere."

"_Ja_, Missi