From the experience which Hans had gained in ascending the rock, he knew that there was only one place where an enemy could ascend, and thus if the narrow causeway could be defended, he saw no means for the Matabili to approach him.
“Two to a hundred are long odds, though,” said Hans to Victor; “but we can only die at last, and our last fight shall be a good one. We can do no more, I think, so now suppose we sleep for two hours; we are safe till sunset, and I don’t think we shall be attacked before daybreak to-morrow. Katrine and her sister can be trusted to keep watch, and we shall be stronger for sleep.”
It was some time after sundown when Victor was called by Katrine.
“I can trust my eyes by day, Victor,” said the Dutch maiden, “but I don’t think I am fit to keep guard by night. An enemy might be too cunning or too quick for me.”
“That is true, Katie,” replied Victor: “you had better sleep now, and I will take care no enemy comes to us. Have you heard any strange sounds since sunset?”
“Yes, many,” said Katrine: “there are lions about, and I think hyenas have already scented death near here, for I heard some savage animals fighting below here; but I think only animals have been about us.”
“We may have a great fight to-morrow, Katie,” said Victor: “the enemy may be fifty to one against us.”
“A brave man from the Vaderland like Hans and you would scarcely like to fight at less odds, Victor. If you are hard pressed I can use one of those spears, and I can pull a trigger too; but we can trust to you two. See how strong this place is, too,” continued Katrine: “a child might hold this against an army.”
“If you had been down-hearted, Katie, I should have fought, but it would have been doggedly and down-heartedly; now that you are so hopeful, I shall fight cheerfully and confidently. Good-night, Katie, and thank you for your support.”
Victor took up a sheltered position under the rocks, where the dew could not fall upon him, and commenced his lonely watch. Strange thoughts crossed his brain as he there sat for hours: one was the readiness with which he surrendered a fair chance of life for the sake of two Dutch girls whom he knew but slightly. “It is odd,” he thought, “for were it not for their slow feet, Hans and I could easily escape the whole body of the Matabili, and in a race for life we could shoot down the fleetest, and run from the slowest. It is a strange tie that binds a strong man to a weak woman, for tie it is. I, who never yet loved a woman, would sooner die in defending Katie than escape at her expense; and yet, were she captured, her fate would only be to become one among a hundred wives of Moselekatse. To-morrow’s sun will not set, I expect, without deciding her fate, and that of Hans and myself.”