both angered and amused me faintly, came to an end, for the Heer Marais
entered the place.

As might have been expected in so excitable a man, he was in a terrible
state of agitation. Thankfulness at the escape of his only, beloved
child, rage with the Kaffirs who had tried to kill her, and extreme
distress at the loss of most of his property--all these conflicting
emotions boiled together in his breast like antagonistic elements in a
crucible.

The resulting fumes were parti-coloured and overpowering. He rushed up
to me, blessed and thanked me (for he had learnt something of the story
of the defence), called me a young hero and so forth, hoping that God
would reward me. Here I may remark that _he_ never did, poor man. Then
he began to rave at Leblanc, who had brought all this dreadful disaster
upon his house, saying that it was a judgment on himself for having
sheltered an atheist and a drunkard for so many years, just because he
was French and a man of intellect. Someone, my father as a matter of
fact, who with all his prejudices possessed a great sense of justice,
reminded him that the poor Frenchman had expiated, or perchance was now
expiating any crimes that he might have committed.

This turned the stream of his invective on to the Quabie Kaffirs, who
had burned part of his house and stolen nearly all his stock, making him
from a rich man into a poor one in a single hour. He shouted for
vengeance on the "black devils," and called on all there to help him to
recover his beasts and kill the thieves. Most of those present--they
were about thirty in all, not counting the Kaffir and Hottentot
after-riders--answered that they were willing to attack the Quabies.
Being residents in the district, they felt, and, indeed, said, that his