well mounted, for they did not seem to
lose ground.

In the kitchen of Conrad Marais's homestead Gertie stood that day,
busily employed in the construction of a plum-pudding, with which she
meant to regale Hans and Charlie on their return. And very pretty and
happy did Gertie look, with her white apron and her dark hair looped up
in careless braids, and her face flushed with exertion, and her pretty
round arms bared to the dimpled elbows and scarcely capable of being
rendered whiter by the flour with which they were covered.

A young Hottentot Venus of indescribable ugliness assisted in retarding
her.

"The master will be here soon," said Gertie, wiping the flour and pieces
of dough off her hands; "we must be quick. Is the pot ready?"

Venus responded with a "Ja," and a grin which displayed a splendid
casket of pearls.

Just then the clatter of hoofs was heard.

"Why, here they come already, and in _such_ a hurry too!" said Gertie in
surprise, untying her apron hastily.

Before the apron was untied, however, Hans had pulled up at the door and
shouted "Gertie!" in a voice so tremendous that his wife turned pale and
came quickly to the door.

"Oh, Hans! what--"

"Come, darling, quick!"

There was no time for more. Hans held out his hand. Gertie took it
mechanically.

"Your foot on my toe. Quick!"

Gertie did as she was bid, and felt herself swung to the saddle in front
of her husband, who held her in his strong right arm, while in the grasp
of his huge left hand he held the reins and an assagai.

Poor Gertie had time, in that brief moment, to note that Charlie
Considine sat motionless on his panting horse, gazing sternly towards
the karroo, and that a cloud of dust was sweeping over the plain towards
them. She guessed too surely what it was, but said not a word, while
her husband leaped his horse through a gap in the garden wall in order
to reach the road by a short cut. Double-weighted thus, the horse did
not run so well as before. Considine was frequently obliged to check
his pace and look back.

The stern frown on the Dutchman's brow had now mingled with it a
slightly troubled look.

"Go on. I'll follow immediately," said Considine as he reined in.

"Don't be foolhardy," cried Hans, with an anxious look as he shot past.

Without replying, Considine dismounted, knelt on a slight eminence on
the plain, and deliberately prepared to fire.

The pursuing savages observed the act, and when wit