I do not for one moment mean to suggest that he was afraid, as he might well have been, for he was an extremely brave and even rash man; but I think the knowledge that his drunken act had brought this terrible danger upon us all weighed on his mind.  Also there may have been more; some subtle fore-knowledge of the approaching end to a life that, when all allowances were made, could scarcely be called well spent.  At any rate he fidgeted at his window-place cursing beneath his breath, and soon, as I saw out of the corner of my eye, began to have recourse to his favourite bottle of peach brandy, which he fetched out of a cupboard.

The slaves, too, were gloomy, as all natives are when suddenly awakened in the night; but as the light grew they became more cheerful.  It is a poor Kaffir that does not love fighting, especially when he has a gun and a white man or two to lead him.

Now that we had made such little preparations as we could, which, by the way, I supplemented by causing some furniture to be piled up against the front and back doors, there came a pause, which, speaking for my own part—­being, after all, only a lad at the time—­I found very trying to the nerves.  There I stood at my window with the two guns, one a double-barrel and one a single “roer”, or elephant gun, that took a tremendous charge, but both, be it remembered, flint locks; for, although percussion caps had been introduced, we were a little behind the times in Cradock.  There, too, crouched on the ground beside me, holding the ammunition ready for re-loading, her long, black hair flowing about her shoulders, was Marie Marais, now a well-grown young woman.  In the intense silence she whispered to me: 

“Why did you come here, Allan?  You were safe yonder, and now you will probably be killed.”

“To try to save you,” I answered simply.  “What would you have had me do?”

“To try to save me?  Oh! that is good of you, but you should have thought of yourself.”

“Then I should still have thought of you, Marie.”

“Why, Allan?”

“Because you are myself and more than myself.  If anything happened to you, what would my life be to me?”

“I don’t quite understand, Allan,” she replied, staring down at the floor.  “Tell me, what do you mean?”

“Mean, you silly girl,” I said; “what can I mean, except that I love you, which I thought you knew long ago.”

“Oh!” she said; “now I understand.”  Then she raised herself upon her knees, and held up her face to me to kiss, adding, “There, that’s my answer, the first and perhaps the last.  Thank you, Allan dear; I am glad to have heard that, for you see one or both of us may die soon.”

As she spoke the words, an assegai flashed through the window-place, passing just between our heads.  So we gave over love-making and turned our attention to war.