man of his word. Friend Marais, stop talking about your losses"--this
in a warning voice--"and give him good day."

So Marais came, and with him Marie, who blushed and smiled, but to my
mind looked more of a grown woman than ever before; one who had left
girlhood behind her and found herself face to face with real life and
all its troubles. Following her close, very close, as I was quick to
notice, was Hernan Pereira. He was even more finely dressed than usual
and carried in his hand a beautiful new, single-barrelled rifle, also
fitted to take percussion caps, but, as I thought, of a very large bore
for the purpose of goose shooting.

"So you have got well again," he said in a genial voice that yet did not
ring true. Indeed, it suggested to me that he wished I had done nothing
of the sort. "Well, Mynheer Allan, here you find me quite ready to
shoot your head off." (He didn't mean that, though I dare say he was.)
"I tell you that the mare is as good as mine, for I have been
practising, haven't I, Marie? as the 'aasvogels'" (that is, vultures)
"round the stead know to their cost."

"Yes, Cousin Hernan," said Marie, "you have been practising, but so,
perhaps, has Allan."

By this time all the company of Boers had collected round us, and began
to evince a great interest in the pending contest, as was natural among
people who rarely had a gun out of their hands, and thought that fine
shooting was the divinest of the arts. However, they were not allowed
to stay long, as the Kaffirs said that the geese would begin their
afternoon flight within about half an hour. So the spectators were all
requested to arrange themselves under the sheer cliff of the kloof,