relative by birth.  Or perhaps he had learned from him the story of his daughter’s danger, upon which I had already acted, and really was anxious about her safety.  For it must always be remembered that Marais loved Marie passionately, however ill the reader of this history may think that he behaved to her.  She was his darling, the apple of his eye, and her great offence in his sight was that she cared for me more than she did for him.  That is one of the reasons why he hated me as much as he loved her.

Almost before I had finished reading this letter, the order came that we were to go in a body to bid farewell to Dingaan, leaving our arms piled beneath the two milk trees at the gate of the town.  Most of our after-riders were commanded to accompany us—­I think because Retief wished to make as big a show as possible to impress the Zulus.  A few of these Hottentots, however, were told to stay behind that they might collect the horses, that were knee-haltered and grazing at a distance, and saddle them up.  Among these was Hans, for, as it chanced, I saw and sent him with the others, so that I might be sure that my own horses would be found and made ready for the journey.

Just as we were starting, I met the lad William Wood, who had come down from the Mission huts, where he lived with Mr. Owen, and was wandering about with an anxious face.

“How are you, William?” I asked.

“Not very well, Mr. Quatermain,” he answered.  “The fact is,” he added with a burst of confidence, “I feel queerly about you all.  The Kaffirs have told me that something is going to happen to you, and I think you ought to know it.  I daren’t say any more,” and he vanished into the crowd.

At that moment I caught sight of Retief riding to and fro and shouting out orders.  Going to him, I caught him by the sleeve, saying: 

“Commandant, listen to me.”

“Well, what is it now, nephew?” he asked absently.

I told him what Wood had said, adding that I also was uneasy; I did not know why.

“Oh!” he answered with impatience, “this is all hailstones and burnt grass” (meaning that the one would melt and the other blow away, or in our English idiom, stuff and rubbish).  “Why are you always trying to scare me with your fancies, Allan?  Dingaan is our friend, not our enemy.  So let us take the gifts that fortune gives us and be thankful.  Come, march.”

This he said about eight o’clock in the morning.

We strolled through the gates of the Great Kraal, most of the Boers, who, as usual, had piled their arms under the two milk trees, lounging along in knots of four or five, laughing and chatting as they went.  I have often thought since, that although every one of them there, except myself, was doomed within an hour to have taken the dreadful step from time into eternity, it seems strange that advancing fate should have thrown no shadow on their hearts.  On the contrary, they were quite gay, being extremely pleased at the successful issue of their mission and the prospect of an immediate return to their wives and children.  Even Retief was gay, for I heard him joking with his companions about myself and my “white-bread-week,” or honeymoon, which, he said, was drawing very near.