But she was a strong woman, with a will like iron, and she held on when most girls would have died.

Jess meant to get to Mooifontein somehow, and she knew that she would get there.

If only she could reach the place and find help to send to her lover, she did not greatly care what happened to her afterwards.

The pace of the horse she was riding grew slower and slower.

From the ambling canter into which at first she managed occasionally to force it, and which is the best pace to travel at in South Africa, it relapsed continually into a rough short trot, which was agony to her, riding as she was, and from the trot into a walk.