“Now, Marie, be ready,” I gasped, lifting the pistol.

“Oh, Christ receive me!” she answered faintly.  “It won’t hurt much, will it, Allan?”

“You will never feel anything,” I whispered; as with the cold sweat pouring from me I placed the muzzle within an inch of her forehead and began to press the trigger.  My God! yes, I actually began to press the trigger softly and steadily, for I wished to make no mistake.

It was at this very moment, above the dreadful turmoil of the roaring flames, the yells of the savages and the shrieks and groans of wounded and dying men, that I heard the sweetest sound which ever fell upon my ears—­the sound of shots being fired, many shots, and quite close by.

“Great Heaven!” I screamed; “the Boers are here to save us.  Marie, I will hold the door while I can.  If I fall, scramble through the window—­you can do it from the chest beneath—­drop to the ground, and run towards the firing.  There’s a chance for you yet, a good chance.”

“And you, you,” she moaned.  “I would rather die with you.”

“Do what I bid you,” I answered savagely, and bounded forward towards the rocking door.

It was falling outward, it fell, and on the top of it appeared two great savages waving broad spears.  I lifted the pistol, and the bullet that had been meant for Marie’s brain scattered that of the first of them, and the bullet which had been meant for my heart pierced that of the second.  They both went down dead, there in the doorway.

I snatched up one of their spears and glanced behind me.  Marie was climbing on to the chest; I could just see her through the thickening smoke.  Another Quabie rushed on.  Hans and I received him on the points of our assegais, but so fierce was his charge that they went through him as though he were nothing, and being but light, both of us were thrown backwards to the ground.  I scrambled to my feet again, defenceless now, for the spear was broken in the Kaffir, and awaited the end.  Looking back once more I saw that Marie had either failed to get through the window or abandoned the attempt.  At any rate she was standing near the chest supporting herself by her right hand.  In my despair I seized the blade end of the broken assegai and dragged it from the body of the Kaffir, thinking that it would serve to kill her, then turned to do the deed.

But even as I turned I heard a voice that I knew well shout:  “Do you live, Marie?” and in the doorway appeared no savage, but Henri Marais.

Slowly I backed before him, for I could not speak, and the last dreadful effort of my will seemed to thrust me towards Marie.  I reached her and threw my hand that still held the gory blade round her neck.  Then as darkness came over me I heard her cry: 

“Don’t shoot, father.  It is Allan, Allan who has saved my life!”

After that I remember no more.  Nor did she for a while, for we both fell to the ground senseless.