“And a crown of Glory,” I suggested.

“Yes, of course, a crown of Glory—­very large, since I shall be a martyr; but I hope one will only have to wear it on Sundays, as I never could bear anything heavy on my hair; moreover, it would remind me of a Kaffir’s head-ring done in gold, and I shall have had enough of Kaffirs.  Then there will be the harp,” she went on as her imagination took fire at the prospect of these celestial delights.  “Have you ever seen a harp, Allan?  I haven’t except that which King David carries in the picture in the Book, which looks like a broken rimpi chair frame set up edgeways.  As for playing the thing, they will have to teach me, that’s all, which will be a difficult business, seeing that I would sooner listen to cats on the roof than to music, and as for making it—­”

So she chattered on, as I believe with the object of diverting and amusing me, for she was a shrewd old soul who knew how important it was that I should be kept in an equable frame of mind at this crisis in our fates.

Meanwhile I was doing my best with the lump of liver, that tasted painfully of vatdoek and was gritty with sand.  Indeed, when the vrouw’s back was turned I managed to throw the most of it to Hans behind me, who swallowed it at a gulp as a dog does, since he did not wish to be caught chewing it.

“God in heaven! how fast you eat, nephew,” said the vrouw, catching sight of my empty tin.  Then, eyeing the voracious Hottentot suspiciously, she added:  “That yellow dog of yours hasn’t stolen it, has he?  If so, I’ll teach him.”

“No, no, vrouw,” answered Hans in alarm.  “No meat has passed my lips this day, except what I licked out of the pan after breakfast.”

“Then, Allan, you will certainly have indigestion, which is just what I wanted to avoid.  Have I not often told you that you should chew your bit twenty times before you swallow, which I would do myself if I had any back teeth left?  Here, drink this milk; it is only a little sour and will settle your stomach,” and she produced a black bottle and subjected it to the attentions of the vatdoek, growing quite angry when I declined it and sent for water.

Next she insisted upon my getting into her own bed in the wagon to sleep, forbidding me to smoke, which she said made the hand shake.  Thither, then, I went, after a brief conversation with Hans, whom I directed to clean my rifle thoroughly.  For I wished to be alone and knew that I had little chance of solitude outside of that somewhat fusty couch.

To tell the truth, although I shut my eyes to deceive the vrouw, who looked in occasionally to see how I was getting on, no sleep came to me that afternoon—­at least, not for a long while.  How could I sleep in that hot place when my heart was torn with doubt and terror?  Think of it, reader, think of it!  An hour or two, and on my skill would hang the lives of eight white people—­men, women, and children, and the safety or the utter shame of the woman whom I loved and who loved me.  No, she should be spared the worst.  I would give her my pistol, and if there were need she would know what to do.