u would call me foolish if I told you what I was thinking about.
Never mind, it has gone wherever thoughts go. I will tell you what I am
thinking about now, which is--that it is about time we got out of this
place. My uncle and Bessie must be half distracted."

"We've had more than two months of it now. The relieving column can't be
far off," suggested John; for these foolish people in Pretoria laboured
under a firm belief that one fine morning they would be gratified with a
vision of the light dancing down a long line of British bayonets, and of
Boers evaporating in every direction like storm clouds before the sun.

Jess shook her head. She was beginning to lose faith in relieving
columns that never came.

"If we don't help ourselves, my opinion is that we may stop here till
we are starved out, which in fact we are. However, it's no use
talking about it, so I'm off to fetch our rations. Let's see, have you
everything you want?"

"Everything, thanks."

"Well, then, mind you stop quiet till I come back."

"Why," laughed John, "I am as strong as a horse."

"Possibly; but that is what the doctor said, you know. Good-bye!" and
Jess took her big basket and started on what John used feebly to call
her "rational undertaking."

She had not gone fifty paces from the door before she suddenly caught
sight of a familiar form seated on a familiar pony. The form was fat
and jovial-looking, and the pony was small but also fat. It was Hans
Coetzee--none other!

Jess could hardly believe her eyes. Old Hans in Pretoria! What could it
mean?

"_Oom_ Coetzee! _Oom_ Coetzee!" she called, as he came ambling past her,
evidently heading for the Heidelberg road.

The old Boer pulled up his pony, and gazed around him in a mystified
fashion.

"Here, _Oom_ Coetzee! Here!"

"_Allemachter!_" he said, jerking his pony round. "It's you, Missie
Jess, is it? Now who would have thought of seeing you here?"

"Who would have thought of seeing _you_ here?" she answered.

"Yes, yes; it seems strange; I dare say that it seems strange. But I am
a messenger of peace, like Uncle Noah's dove in the ark, you know. The
fact is," and he glanced round to see if anybody was listening, "I have
been sent by the Government to arrange about an exchange of prisoners."

"The Government! What Government?"

"What Government? Why, the Triumvirate, of course--whom may the Lord
bless and prosper, as He did Jonah when he walked on the wall of the
city."

"J