“I think so.”
“Then there is indeed no chance for poor Charlie,” was the rejoinder, “for Bertha Marais will never marry in direct opposition to her father’s wishes. Heigho! ’Tis the old story about the course of true love.”
“He may change—he will change his mind, I think,” said Hans, “but in the meantime he will go off into the wilderness, carrying Bertha along with him. I would have gone with him myself without hesitation, had it not been that I cannot bear to think of tearing you away just yet from the old people, and I may perhaps do some good here in the way of saving the old home.”
Hans looked round with a somewhat mournful gaze at the home of his childhood, which bore evidences of the preparations that were being made by Conrad Marais to leave it.
That evening a large party of disaffected boers arrived at the homestead of Conrad Marais, with waggons, wives, children, goods, and arms, on their way to the far north. Some of these men were sterling fellows, good husbands and fathers and masters, but with fiery independent spirits, which could not brook the restraints laid on them by a Government that had too frequently aroused their contempt or indignation. Others were cruel, selfish savages who scorned the idea that a man might not “wallop his own nigger,” and were more than half pleased that the abolition of slavery and its consequences gave them a sort of reason for throwing off allegiance to the British Crown, and forsaking their homes in disgust; and some there were who would have been willing to remain and suffer, but could not bear the idea of being left behind by their kindred.
Next morning Conrad completed the loading of his waggons, placed his wife and children—there was still a baby!—in them, mounted his horse with the sons who yet remained with him, and bade farewell to the old home on the karroo. He was followed by a long train of his compatriots’ waggons. They all crossed the frontier into Kafirland and thenceforth deemed themselves free!
This was the first droppings of a shower—the first leak of a torrent—the first outbreak of that great exodus of the Dutch-African boers which was destined in the future to work a mighty change in the South African colony.
Hans and Gertie accompanied the party for several hours on their journey, and then, bidding them God-speed, returned to their deserted home.
But now a cloud was lowering over the land which had been imperceptibly, though surely, gathering on the horizon for years past.
We have said that hitherto the colony, despite many provocations, thefts, and occasional murders, had lived in a state of peace with the Kafirs—the only time that they took up arms for a brief space being in their defence, at Hintza’s request, against the Fetcani.