Christian caught sight of the dark figure of the Kafir and started sharply.
"Is that him there?" he cried. "Is that Bailey?"
"No, no," she answered eagerly. "That 's—that 's a Kafir, Christian; he helped me to get back. He came up when I was too tired to go any further, and Bailey was starting to kick me to get my money away from me—I 've got it here, Christian, all safe—an' he knocked Bailey over and chased him off. If it hadn't ha' been for him—"
"What?" Christian interrupted strongly. "What did you say? Bailey was going to—kick you? You was too tired to walk and he was going to kick you?"
"Yes, Christian. And if it hadn't ha' been for this Kafir, he would ha' done. I was sitting down, you see, and he got mad with me and wanted me to hand him over the money. So when I screamed—what did you say, Christian?"
"I swore," answered the Boer.
"Oh," exclaimed Mrs. du Preez, as though she apologized for interrupting. "And then the Kafir came up. If it was n't for him, Christian, I 'd—I 'd ha' had to die out of doors. I could never have managed to get back by myself."
The effort merely to stand upright taxed her sorely, but she went on doggedly to praise the Kafir and to try in her confused and inadequate tongue to convey to the Boer that this Kafir was not as other Kafirs. Her small voice, toneless and desperate, beat on pertinaciously.
"He 's a doctor, Christian," she concluded. "He 's been educated an' all that, an' he speaks English like a gentleman. And he 's been a white man to me."
"Yes," said the Boer. His mind was stuck fast upon one point of her story. "Yes. But—you said Bailey was going to kick you—out there all alone by yourselves in the veld?"