I woke just as dawn was breaking. Before the door stood the son of the
house, his gun in his hand.
"Hello, you are up early," I said. He looked rather confused.
"To tell the truth, I have been guarding you all night. But all the
same, I don't believe that you are spies. Come and have some coffee."
We had just finished our coffee when we heard horses' hoofs coming along
the road, and presently one of our friends from the farm near
Greylingstad entered the room.
"I've brought your horses," he said, smiling merrily. "I passed the old
field-cornet's this morning and told him I could certify that you are no
spies."
Whilst we were saddling up the field-cornet and his companion of the
night before arrived. The latter was now sober. They were profuse in
apologies.
"You were angry last night because we had no rifles; you had more reason
to be glad," I remarked to the field-cornet's assistant.
"Why?"
"Because if I had been armed I might have been imprudent enough to blow
your brains out when you pointed your gun at me. And how awful that
would have been!"
"Man," he said, "it's the cursed drink."
"Well," said I, "it's all over now. Good-bye!" Off we went--my comrade,
myself, and the man who had brought our horses, Delange. The latter had
an _achter ryder_ and two spare horses. Towards noon we reached the farm
of one of Delange's friends.
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