venue thus left open for him, every head is bared. He
lifts his own hat in acknowledgment of this salutation, and proceeds to
the place pointed out, which is marked by a _reim_ placed on the ground.
It is the line which he is to toe. The _predikant_ is not beside him,
in compliance with his own wish.

As he stands facing his slayers, a dead hush of silence is upon the
crowd. Through it rises the voice of Commandant Schoeman, hard,
emotionless, yet crisp and clear.

"Even now, Colvin Kershaw, even now, as you stand upon the brink of your
grave and are about to pass into the presence of Almighty God, even now
we have decided to offer you one more chance. Will you sign and abide
by the declaration which was tendered you last night?"

"I refused to purchase my life at such a price last night, Mynheer
Commandant, and I refuse again. Here, as you say, upon the brink of my
grave, I will die rather than draw trigger on my own countrymen. My
sympathies with the Republics and their cause are great, as many here
know. But I will not fight against my own countrymen."

The tone was firm, the answer clear and audible to every soul there
present, and the effect thereof did not differ greatly. Some were
inclined to resent what they called the obstinacy of the prisoner, but
to the minds of most the words carried increased respect.

"One thing more I desire to say," went on Colvin, holding up his hand as
he noticed that the Commandant was about to give the signal. "Here, on
the brink of the grave, I solemnly repeat I am being put to death for an
act which I never committed. I do not say I would not have committed it
had opportunity afforded, for the man was my friend. But I did not. I
die the victim of false swearing."

"You have refused our mercy, even at the twelfth hour," said Schoeman.
"So be it."

He made a signal. Three men stepped forward, each slapping a cartridge
into his rifle, confronting the doomed one at about twenty paces. In
that dread and critical moment Colvin recognised two of them--Gideon
Roux and Hermanus Delport. The third was unknown to him.

"Where is Adrian De la Rey?" he said, in a tone of good-humoured satire.
"_He_ should have been the third. It would have made the plot more
complete."

Up went the three rifles to the shoulder, then down again immediately.
A gasp of horror arose--of dismay, amazement, consternation. Something
had happened.

The doomed man no longer stood alone. Bet