"Undoubtedly," answered the lawyer.

"Well, have you heard that another ship called the _Flora_, travelling
from the Cape I know not whither, was lost on this coast in the same
month of the following year, and that a few of her passengers escaped?"

"I have heard of it," he said.

"Good. Now look here," and going to a chest that stood beneath the
window, I lifted from it the old Bible that belonged to my grandfather
and father, on the white pages at the beginning of which are written the
record of many births, marriages, deaths and other notable events that
had happened in the family. Opening it I searched and pointed to a
certain entry inscribed in the big writing of my husband Jan, and in ink
which was somewhat faint, for the ink that the traders sold us in those
days had little virtue in it. Beneath this entry were others made by Jan
in later years, telling of things that had happened to us, such as the
death of his great-aunt who left him money, the outbreak of small-pox
on the farm, and the number of people who died from it, the attack of a
band of the red Kaffirs upon our house, when by the mercy of God we beat
them off, leaving twelve of their dead behind them, but taking as many
of our best oxen, and so forth.

"Read," I said, and the interpreter read as follows:


"On the twelfth day of September in the year 1825 (the date being
written in letters) our little daughter Suzanne found a starving English
boy in a kloof, who had been shipwrecked on the coast. We have taken him
in as a gift of the Lord. He says that his name is Rolf Kenzie."