"Ah--well--ah--the--Dutch--you know--do not like people who walk--in this
country--ah!"

"My dear friend," said the stranger, laying his hand on the German's arm,
"I should have bought myself another horse, but crossing, five days ago, a
full river, I lost my purse--a purse with five hundred pounds in it. I
spent five days on the bank of the river trying to find it--couldn't. Paid
a Kaffer nine pounds to go in and look for it at the risk of his life--
couldn't find it."

The German would have translated this information, but the Boer-woman gave
no ear.

"No, no; he goes tonight. See how he looks at me--a poor unprotected
female! If he wrongs me, who is to do me right?" cried Tant Sannie.

"I think," said the German in an undertone, if you didn't look at her quite
so much it might be advisable. She--ah--she--might--imagine that you liked
her too well,--in fact--ah--"

"Certainly, my dear friend, certainly," said the stranger. "I shall not
look at her."

Saying this, he turned his nose full upon a small Kaffer of two years old.
That small naked son of Ham became instantly so terrified that he fled to
his mother's blanket for protection, howling horribly.

Upon this the newcomer fixed his eyes pensively on the stamp-block, folding
his hands on the head of his cane. His boots were broken, but he still had
the cane of a gentleman.