Then Henri Marais, who was a gentleman at bottom, although, even in those early days, violent and foolish when excited or under the influence of his race prejudices, began to apologise quite humbly, assuring my father that he forgot nothing and meant no offence.  So they patched the matter up, and an hour later we started.

All the Boers came to see us off, giving me many kind words and saying how much they looked forward to meeting me again on the following Thursday.  Pereira, who was among them, was also very genial, begging me to be sure and get well, since he did not wish to beat one who was still crippled, even at a game of goose shooting.  I answered that I would do my best; as for my part, I did not like being beaten it any game which I had set my heart on winning, whether it were little or big.  Then I turned my head, for I was lying on my back all this time, to bid good-bye to Marie, who had slipped out of the house into the yard where the cart was.

“Good-bye, Allan,” she said, giving me her hand and a look from her eyes that I trusted was not seen.  Then, under pretence of arranging the kaross which was over me, she bent down and whispered swiftly: 

“Win that match if you love me.  I shall pray God that you may every night, for it will be an omen.”

I think the whisper was heard, though not the words, for I saw Pereira bite his lip and make a movement as though to interrupt her.  But Pieter Retief thrust his big form in front of him rather rudely, and said with one of his hearty laughs: 

“Allemachte! friend, let the missje wish a good journey to the young fellow who saved her life.”

Next moment Hans, the Hottentot, screamed at the oxen in the usual fashion, and we rolled away through the gate.

But oh! if I had liked the Heer Retief before, now I loved him.

CHAPTER V

THE SHOOTING MATCH

My journey back to the Mission Station was a strange contrast to that which I had made thence a few days before.  Then, the darkness, the swift mare beneath me rushing through it like a bird, the awful terror in my heart lest I should be too late, as with wild eyes I watched the paling stars and the first gathering grey of dawn.  Now, the creaking of the ox-cart, the familiar veld, the bright glow of the peaceful sunlight, and in my heart a great thankfulness, and yet a new terror lest the pure and holy love which I had won should be stolen away from me by force or fraud.

Well, as the one matter had been in the hand of God, so was the other, and with that knowledge I must be content.  The first trial had ended in death and victory.  How would the second end?  I wondered, and those words seemed to jumble themselves up in my mind and shape a sentence that it did not conceive.  It was:  “In the victory that is death,” which, when I came to think of it, of course, meant nothing.  How victory could be death I did not understand—­at any rate, at that time, I who was but a lad of small experience.