n so many of these reports of rebellion that folk were
beginning to regard them as a chronic state of affairs.

"Oh, the Boers!" said Bessie, with a pretty toss of her golden head, as
they were sitting one morning on the verandah. "I am sick to death of
hearing about the Boers and all their got-up talk. I know what it is;
it is just an excuse for them to go away from their farms and wives and
children and idle about at these great meetings, and drink 'square-face'
with their mouths full of big words. You see what Jess says in her
last letter. People in Pretoria believe that it is all nonsense from
beginning to end, and I think they are perfectly right."

"By the way, Bessie," asked John, "have you written to Jess telling her
of our engagement?"

"Oh yes, I wrote some days ago, but the letter only went yesterday. She
will be pleased to hear about it. Dear old Jess, I wonder when she means
to come home again. She has been away long enough."

John made no answer, but went on smoking his pipe in silence, wondering
if Jess would be pleased. He did not understand her yet. She had gone
away just as he was beginning to understand her.

Presently he observed Jantje sneaking about between the orange-trees as
though he wished to call attention to himself. Had he not wanted to do
so he would have moved from one to the other in such a way that nobody
could have seen him. His partial and desultory appearances indicated
that he was on view.

"Come out of those trees, you little rascal, and stop slipping
about like a snake in a stone wall!" shouted John. "What is it you
want--wages?"

Thus adjured, Jantje advanced and sat down on the path, as usual in the
full glare of the sun.

"No, Baas," he said, "it is not wages. They are not due yet."

"What is it, then?"

"No, Baas, it is this. The Boers have declared war on the English
Government, and they have eaten up the _rooibaatjes_ at Bronker's
Spruit, near Middleburg. Joubert shot them all there the day before
yesterday."

"What!" shouted John, letting his pipe fall in his astonishment. "Stop,
though, that must be a lie. You say near Middleburg, the day before
yesterday: that would be December 20. When did you hear this?"

"At daybreak, Baas. A Basutu told me."

"Then there is an end of it. The news could not have reached here in
thirty-eight hours. What do you mean by coming to me with such a tale?"

The Hottentot smiled. "It is quite true, Baas. Bad news flies like a
b