"Oh, because he barks so much that we cannot sleep. But I think I will have to let him out again, because thieves will help themselves to the fruit if there is no watch-dog about."
The ruse had been found out and Carlo had to be released, although his vigilance added greatly to the dangers of the situation.
The grapes were ripe, great luxurious bunches of purple and golden fruit were weighing down the sturdy old vines.
"I wish Captain Naudé would come," Hansie sighed. "Harmony is at its very best."
"He won't come again, I am convinced of that," her mother answered mournfully. "No more news from the field for us. The dangers are too great, and nothing could be gained by coming into town now that our friends have nearly all been sent away."
"We shall see," Hansie said cheerfully. "I have a strong presentiment that the men are coming in this very night. I am going to put everything in readiness for them, and we must go to bed early, dear mother. Perhaps we shall have very little rest to-night."
This was Sunday night, February 9th.
Hansie packed away various little articles lying about the bedrooms and bathroom, and generally prepared herself for the midnight adventure which she felt more than ever convinced would take place within a few hours, while Mrs. van Warmelo went about with a feather and an oil-can, oiling the hinges and locks.
She was soon sound asleep in her mother's bedroom, for the two women were not as brave as they had been during the first part of the war and had got into the habit of sleeping together "for company."
Suddenly at about 2 a.m. they both started up violently, at the sound of Carlo's furious barking near their window, where he usually kept guard.