At length they reached the shelter again and crept into it.
"Light a candle," said Jess.
Jantje hunted for and struck a match.

The piece of candle they had been using, however, was nearly burnt out, so from the rubbish in the corner he produced a box full of "ends," some of them three or four inches long.

In the queer sort of way that trifles do strike us when the mind is undergoing a severe strain, Jess remembered instantly that for years she had been unable to discover what became of the odd bits of the candles used in the house.

Now the mystery was explained.
"Go outside and leave me.

I want to think," she said.
The Hottentot obeyed, and seated upon the heap of skins, her forehead resting on her hand and her fingers buried in her silky rain-soaked hair, Jess began to review the position.