Bert grinned. "To punch Amurrica's head? Oh, yes!"

"Exactly! Or your own, if you should feel that you deserve it."

Bert shrugged. He was in a hurry. He hardly paused to realise what the three days' absence of the guardian might mean. His memory was centred upon the strained expression of Millie's little face, and he knew, by the faculty of divination which possessed him where she was concerned, that she was near the end of her powers of endurance. He had premonition that before long she must collapse. It seemed like a duel between him and her. When she gave in he would be glad, but he must be there. This was just now all that mattered—that he should be near her when the steel springs of her will relaxed.

He hurried away with an abstracted air the moment Mayne had finished speaking; and Mayne, with a sigh, wondered whether he had done right to tell him of his departure—whether he did right to go. Until the will was proved, he felt uncertain of being able to maintain his authority against Vrouw Lutwyche and her ignorant kinsfolk; he felt that a weight would be off his mind when he was safely back again. There was an Anglican sisterhood at Leitersdorp, and he wished to inquire whether the girl might be placed there for a time should circumstances render it necessary. But his guardianship was a real puzzle, and it was seriously complicated by the passion of Bert Mestaer.

CHAPTER VI
THE FLINGING OF THE GAGE

"What god, then, bade those two stand forth and strive?"
—C. S. CALVERLEY.

All the world of Slabbert's Poort was enclosed within the walls of "Lutwyche's." The funeral feast waxed noisier and noisier; there were the elements of discord trembling in the cup. Boer v. Briton was soon to be the order of the day, and the present company was largely composed of disappointed men—those who had come to clutch diamonds, and had found none. Their sense that the times were out of joint had been growing by degrees, in proportion as their prospects waned; and the war rumours were fanning it into flame. Visions of plunder danced before their eyes. They would have torn treasure from the bowels of the earth; if this was denied them, there was many a rich homestead for the sacking, much plunder scattered here and there over the wide land. This was what war meant to most of them. A few were English, but the great majority were Africanders. Amurrica was the only man of ability among them. He meant to throw in his lot with the winning side, "anyway"; but he had for days past been making highly inflammatory speeches, from the Boer point of view, in the saloon of the Vierkleur.

The festivities were well begun when Bert Mestaer walked in. He was not popular now. Most of those present were jealous of his possessions, and of his great physical strength. They thought him reserved, and nobody ever forgot that his mother was English. It was not considered certain which side he would take in the forthcoming struggle.

He was greeted with a clamour of welcome which held an underlying sneer. He took no notice; he was not quarrelling to-day. His courage and strength were facts too universally accepted for him to care to prove them. His grey eyes went like lightning about the room, till he discerned Millie, a large apron pinned over her black dress, staggering under the pile of plates which she was carrying to the wash-house. He pressed forward at once, as if nobody else had been present, took the girl's burden from her; and they went out of the room together, followed by laughter and jeers.