to Him who alone could save us from the spears of a cruel foe. I
remember that the last sentence of his prayer was, "Almighty, if we must
be killed, save the women and children and my little girl Tota from the
accursed Zulus, and do not let us be tortured."

I echoed the request very earnestly in my own heart, that I know, for in
common with the others I was dreadfully afraid, and it must be admitted
not without reason.

Then the darkness came on, and we took up our appointed places each
with a rifle in his hands and peered out into the gloom in silence.
Occasionally one of the Boers would light his pipe with a brand from the
smouldering fire, and the glow of it would shine for a few moments on
his pale, anxious face.

Behind me one of the stout "fraus" lay upon the ground. Even the terror
of our position could not keep her heavy eyes from their accustomed
sleep, and she snored loudly. On the further side of her, just by the
fire, lay little Tota, wrapped in a kaross. She was asleep also, her
thumb in her mouth, and from time to time her father would come to look
at her.

So the hours wore on while we waited for the Zulus. But from my intimate
knowledge of the habits of natives I had little fear that they would
attack us at night, though, had they done so, they could have compassed
our destruction with but small loss to themselves. It is not the habit
of this people, they like to fight in the light of day--at dawn for
preference.

About eleven o'clock, just as I was nodding a little at my post, I heard