The darkness was intense. Through it I groped my way to the cart, which
stood where it had been outspanned on the veld at a little distance from
the house, wishing heartily, so miserable was I, that the Kaffirs might
choose that black night for another attack and make an end of me.

When I reached it and lit the lantern which we always carried, I was
astonished to find that, in a rough fashion, it had been made ready to
sleep in. The seats had been cleared out, the hind curtain fastened,
and so forth. Also the pole was propped up with an ox-yoke so as to
make the vehicle level to lie in. While I was wondering vaguely who
could have done this, Hans climbed on to the step, carrying two karosses
which he had borrowed or stolen, and asked if I was comfortable.

"Oh, yes!" I answered; "but why were you going to sleep in the cart?"

"Baas," he replied, "I was not; I prepared it for you. How did I know
that you were coming? Oh, very simply. I sat on the stoep and listened
to all the talk in the sitkammer. The window has never been mended,
baas, since the Quabies broke it. God in Heaven! what a talk that was.
I never knew that white people could have so much to say about a simple
matter. You want to marry the Baas Marais's daughter; the baas wants
her to marry another man who can pay more cattle. Well, among us it
would soon have been settled, for the father would have taken a stick
and beaten you out of the hut with the thick end. Then he would have
beaten the girl with the thin end until she promised to take the other
man, and all would have been settled nicely. But you Whites, you talk
and talk, and nothing is settled. You still mean to marry the daughter,
and the daughter still means not to marry the man of many cows.