It would be most fitting that this fiend should be removed from the face of the earth by the survivor of those unfortunates.

That would be poetic justice, and justice is so rare in the world.

But the question was, would he do it?
The little man was a wonderful coward, that she knew, and had a great terror of Boers, and especially of Frank Muller.
"Jantje," she whispered, stooping towards the bee-hole.
"Yah, missie," answered a hoarse voice outside, and next second the Hottentot's monkey-like face came creeping into the ring of light, followed by his even more monkey-like form.
"Sit down there, Jantje.

I am lonely here and want to talk." He obeyed her, with a grin.

"What shall we talk about, missie?
Shall I tell you a story of the time when the beasts could speak, as I used to do years and years ago ?" "No, Jantje.