in his own house. Jesting, too, for Colvin had touched on
the comic element, not forgetting to entertain Mynheer with the joke
about old Tant' Plessis and Calvinus. So the night wore on.

The doomed man slept at last, slumbering away the fast waning hours that
remained to him of life.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

LOVE'S TRIUMPH.

The sun had mounted above the eastern end of the Wildschutsberg, and now
an arrowy beam, sweeping down from the gilded crags, pierced like a
searchlight the cold grey mists of early dawn.

The burgher camp was astir, roused by no bugle call or roll of drum;
opening the day by no parade of flashing accoutrements or inspection of
arms. Yet every unit in that force was alert and ready, prepared to
receive the orders of the day and act upon them with unparalleled
celerity and absence of fuss.

This morning a solemn and awed tone seems to pervade the camp, a
demeanour perhaps to be explained by the approach of a great and
terrible battle; yet not altogether, for most of these men have been
through such and it has not so affected them. There is, however,
another explanation, for among the first of the orders of the day is
that decreeing the taking of the life of Colvin Kershaw.

The life of one man! But they have counted their own dead by dozens
already in battle, those of the enemy too. Yet the anticipation of the
extinction of this one man is sufficient to move the whole camp to awe.
Ah! but there it is. The excitement of the strife is wanting: the
combative instinct dashed by the loftier motive of patriotism. This man
is to be done to death in cold blood.

Beyond Gideon Roux' homestead, on the side furthest from the tents, is
an open space, backed by the steep slope of the hillside. Here the
whole camp is collected. The burghers, all armed, are standing in two
great lines, not in any order except that the ground between these lines
is kept rigidly clear for about twenty yards of width, and the reason
thereof is now apparent. The doomed man, escorted by half a dozen
guards with loaded rifles, is drawing near.

Colvin's demeanour is calm and self-possessed, but entirely free from
bravado or swagger. His clear searching eyes wander quickly over the
assemblage, and a faint, momentary surprise lights them as he notices
the presence of a few women among this crowd of armed men. They are
placed, too, at the further end, quite close to where he himself shall
stand.

As he enters the a