Then followed explanations from Bessie, during which he was helped off
his horse and into the house.

"It serves me right," said the old man. "To think of it now, just to
think of it! Well, Bessie, my love, thank God that you escaped--ay, and
you too, Captain Niel. Here, you boys, take the Scotch cart and a
couple of oxen and go and fetch the brute home. We may as well have the
feathers off him, at any rate, before the _aasvogels_ (vultures) tear
him to bits."

After he had washed himself and tended his injuries with arnica and
water, John managed to limp into the principal sitting-room, where
supper was waiting. It was a very pleasant room, furnished in European
style, and carpeted with mats made of springbuck skins. In the corner
stood a piano, and by it a bookcase, filled with the works of standard
authors, the property, as John rightly guessed, of Bessie's sister Jess.

Supper went off pleasantly enough, and after it was over the two girls
sang and played whilst the men smoked. And here a fresh surprise awaited
him, for after Bessie, who apparently had now almost recovered from her
mauling, had played a piece or two creditably enough, Jess, who so
far had been nearly silent, sat down at the piano. She did not do
this willingly, indeed, for it was not until her patriarchal uncle had
insisted in his ringing, cheery voice that she should let Captain Niel
hear how she could sing that she consented. But at last she did consent,
and then, after letting her fingers stray somewhat aimlessly along the
chords, she suddenly broke out into such song as John Niel had never
heard before. Her voice, beautiful as it was, was not what is known as
a cultivated voice, and it was a German song, therefore he did not
understand it, but there was no need of words to translate its burden.