Frank’s face clouded a moment, wherein is a paradox. A moment ago he was expecting immediate death—now he was disappointed because denied the opportunity of meeting it every day or so.
“Choose your freedom, man,” said Stephanus kindly. “Remember you have a mother to take care of.”
“Very well. I will give you the pledge, Mynheer Commandant,” Frank answered. “But of course you will not have Colvin shot?”
“Under the circumstances, no,” was the cold reply.
“Hooroosh! You are gentlemen, you are, all of you!” cried Frank, his exuberance getting the better of him. “Wait till we meet in Schalkburg again. We’ll drink old Pritchett’s bar dry. But, now for Colvin.”
The latter had not moved from the spot on which he had stood to meet his death, and Aletta had not moved from him. She still held the revolver in her right hand, keeping jealous watch on the possibility of a suspicious move towards them. But for the moment the attention of everybody was riveted in the other direction. Not until her father approached her alone did she begin to feel reassured.
“Aletta, my child, you may put away that plaything,” called out Stephanus. “Colvin is safe now. I have Schoeman’s word for that. Besides, I am able to ensure his safety myself.”
“Aletta has saved me, Stephanus,” answered Colvin as they exchanged a great handgrip. “Look at this child of yours. But for her you would have been here just ten minutes too late. They had actually levelled the rifles when Aletta deliberately shielded me with herself. It just turned on the merest hairsbreadth of a pressure on the trigger. Look at her, Stephanus, and you will be looking on the bravest, sweetest, truest woman that ever brightened God’s world, and be as proud, to your dying day, that she is your own daughter as I am that she is to be my wife.”
“Er—I say, Colvin, old chap—how are you? I don’t want to intrude—only just to wring your flipper.” And Frank Wenlock, looking from one to the other, edged in, and performed that somewhat syllogistically described feat with a will. “It wasn’t my fault, Miss De la Rey,” he exclaimed. “I hadn’t the ghost of an idea they’d dream of meaning to shoot him till I heard it—well, by accident. When he got me safe off the premises yonder, he swore again and again that he wasn’t running the slightest risk himself—that he stood too much in with them—and so on. Otherwise I wouldn’t have budged. I have my faults, but I wouldn’t have allowed another fellow to get shot instead of me, and that’s why I came back now.”
“Look here, Frank,” said Colvin, “would you mind explaining precisely what on earth you are talking about?”