Vrouw Grobelaar and Her Leading Cases

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"'Now, I wonder if it can be Andreas who shoots so neatly,'
said Anna, half-smiling to herself. 'He would be surprised
if he knew what he is shooting at. Dear me, this is a very
long and tiresome hill.'

"It was almost at that moment that she heard it--the
beginning of the rush. There came up the hill, like a slow
and solemn drum-music, the droning war-song of the Kafirs
as they moved forward in face of the fire. It was an awful
thing to hear, that bloody rhythm booming through the dome
of the night. It is a song I have heard in the daytime, for
a show, and it rings like heavy metal. Anna straightened
herself and looked about her; there was nothing else for it
but that she must start a fire, ere the battle-line swept
up and on to the laager. It would draw more shooting upon
her; but that gave her no pause. She had matches in her
pocket, and fumbled about her and found a little thorn-bush
that crackled while it tore her naked hands. Crouching by
it, she dragged a bunch of the matches across the side of
the box,--they spluttered and flamed, and she thrust them
into the bush. It took light slowly, for there were yet the
dregs of sap in it; but as it lighted, the deft rifleman
squirted bullet after bullet all around her, aiming on the
weakling flame she nursed with her bleeding hands.

"But for this she had no care at all. She had ceased to
perceive it. Sheltering the place with her body, she drew
out more matches, tore up grass, and built the little flame
to a blaze that promised to hold and grow. As it cracked
among the twigs, she wrenched the bush from the ground and
ran forward with it upheld.

"'Burghers, Burghers!' she screamed. 'Pas op! The Kafirs
are coming up the hill!'

"And whirling it widely she flung the burning bush from her
with all her force, and watched its fire spread in the
grass where it fell. Then she, too, fell down, and lay
among the rocks and plants, scarcely breathing.

"Up above, the old commandant, peering under the pent of
his hand, saw the torch waved and the figure that flung it.

"'Allemachtag!' he cried. 'It's the Vrouw van Wyck!'

"The next instant he was shouting, 'And here come the
Kafirs! Shoot, Burghers, shoot straight and hard.'

"Where she lay, near the fire that now spread across the
flank of the hill in broad bands among the dry grass and
withered bushes, the Vrouw van Wyck heard that last cry and
lifted her head as a torrent of shooting answered it. The
Kafirs and the Burghers were at grips, and it seemed that
all around her the night rustled with secret men that slunk
about. There was great danger to her at last, for either in
going forward or going back she might fall into the hands
of the Kafirs, and--oh, you can never tell what that may
mean! At the best and choicest it is death, but at the
worst it is torment with loathly outrage, the torment and
the degradation of Sheol. Anna knew that, knew it well and
feared it. That daunted her, and as the thought grew
clearer in her mind, dread gripped her, and she huddled
among the stones with ears alert and a heart that clacked
as it beat.

"Noises threatened her, and to them, the casual noises of
the night, she gave ear anxiously, while above her the
fight raged direfully and all unheard. At one time she
truly saw naked Kafirs go up the hill,--the light of the
fire glinted on the points of their assegais and threw a
dull gleam on the muscle-rippled skin of them. Next, stones
falling made her start, and ere this alarm was passed she
heard the unmistakable clatter of shod feet among the
boulders, and--plain and loud--an oath as some man stumbled.
He was already to be seen, vaguely; then he was near at
hand, coming upon her.

"'Now, what in God's name is this?' she cried, and rose.
In her hand was the little blunt-nosed revolver.

"The man ran through a bush towards her, 'Anna,' he cried,
'Anna!'

"It was Andreas, and he took hold of her body and pressed
her close to him.

"She thrilled with a superb exaltation of pride and joy,
and put her arms about him.

"'What are you doing here?' he demanded.

"'I was coming to you,' she said, and with a little laugh,
as of a girl, she showed him the basket, with the bottles
yet in it. 'And you?' she asked, then.

"'Me?' he said. 'Why, I've come for you, of course. The
Kafirs are at the ridge, and God knows what might happen to
you. Was it you I was shooting at down there all the time?'

"'You shot very well,' she answered, and showed him the
hole in her skirt where the bullet had pierced it. She
heard him mutter another oath.

"'But we must be going,' he said; 'this is no place to be
talking--no place at all. We must get round to the laager
again. Let me have your arm, and tread quietly, and we must
leave the basket.'

"'Not I,' she answered. 'I have brought it all this way,
and I will not leave it now.'

"He answered with a short laugh, and they commenced to move
upward. But by now the fire had hold of the thorn-trees all
about, and their path was as light as day. It was too
dangerous to attempt to climb to the ridge, and after
walking for a while they were compelled to find the cover
of a rock and remain still. Anna sat on the ground, very
tired and content, and her husband peered out and watched
what was to be seen.

"'We have beaten them,' he said. 'I can see a lot of them
running back. Pray God none come this way. I wish I had not
left my rifle.'

"'Yes,' said Anna, 'you left your rifle, and came unarmed
to help me.'

"'It would have been awkward among the bushes,' he
explained, and was suddenly silent, looking out over the
top of the rock.

"'What is it?' asked Anna. He gave no answer, so she rose
and went to his side and looked too, with her arms on his
shoulder.

"The rip-rip of the Burghers' rifles sounded yet, but there
was now another sound. The bushes creaked and the stones
rocked with men returning down the hill. Not two hundred
paces away they were to be seen--many scores of Kafirs
dodging down-hill, taking what cover they could, pausing
and checking at each rock and mound that gave shelter from
the bullets.

"Anna felt her husband quiver as he saw the crowd swooping
upon him.

"'Take this,' she said, and pressed the little revolver
into his hand. 'It would be well not to be taken. But kiss
me first.'

"He looked from the retreating and nearing Kafirs to her,
with a face knotted in perplexity.

"'It is the only thing,' she urged, and drew his lips to
hers.

"He looked down at the little weapon in his palm, and spoke
as with an effort.

"'I was never a brave man, Anna,' he said, 'and I can't do
this. Will you not do it?'

"She nodded and took the pistol. The Kafirs found nothing
to work their hate upon."

HER OWN STORY

"But what are you going to live on?" asked the Vrouw
Grobelaar. "You haven't got a farm."

"We're going to live in a town," answered Katje proudly.

I interrupted here, and tried to make the old lady
understand that even schoolmasters received some money for
their work, and that there would be enough for two, without
frills.

She had no answer for the moment, but sat and looked at us
both very thoughtfully. Still, there was no hostility in
her aspect; she had not her warlike manner, and seemed
engrossed rather with an estimate of the situation than of
its consequences. I had looked for opposition and
disparagement at least, volubly voiced and backed with a
bloody example of a failure in marriage, and I know that
Katje shared my misgivings. But here was something
different.

"You--you are not angry?" asked Katje after a while.

The old lady started. "Angry! No, of course not. It is not
altogether my affair, Katje. As time goes on, I grow
nervous of stirring any broth but my own. If it were a
matter of mere wisdom, and knowledge of life, and the cool
head of an elder, I should not be afraid to handle you to
suit my ideas; but this is a graver piece of business.
Wisdom has nothing to do with it; those who are wise in
their love are often foolish in their life. You've got your
man, and if you want him you'll marry him in despite of the
tongues of men and of angels. I know; I did it myself."

"You?" cried Katje.

"Yes, me," retorted the Vrouw Grobelaar. "Why not? Do you
think that a person of sense has no feelings? When I was a
girl I was nearly as big a fool as some others I could
name, and got more out of it, in happiness and experience,
than ever they will."

"Tell us about it," suggested Katje.

"I am telling you," snapped the old lady.

"Don't interrupt. Sit down. Don't fidget; nor giggle.
There.

"When I was a girl," she began at last, "my father's farm
was at Windhoek, and beyond the nek to the south, an easy
two hours from our beacons, there lived one Kornel du
Plessis. I came to know him, somehow. I saw him here and
there, till I had no wish to see any but him, and we
understood one another very well. Ah, Katje, girls are
light things; but I truly think that in those days few Boer
maids had much mind for trivial matters in their loves when
once the man was found right and sound. Even at this length
of time I have a thrill in remembering Kornel: a big man,
and heavy, with thick shoulders, but very quick on his
feet, and eyes that were gray, with pleasant little puckers
at the corner. He sat far back in his saddle and lolled to
the gait of the horse easily; such men make horse-masters,
and masters of women. That is to say, they are masters of
all.

"There was no kissing behind the kraal and whispering at
windows. Neither of us had a mind for these meannesses. He
came to my father's house and took food with us, and told
my father the tale of his sheep and cattle, and the weight
of the mortgage on his farm. Though he was not rich, he was
young and keen, and my father knew well that the richest
are not those who begin life with riches. There would have
been no hindrance to a marriage forthwith, but for some law
business in the town, of which I never understood the
truth. But it concerned the land and house of Kornel, and
my father would not say the last word till that should be
settled.

"It dragged on for a long while, that law matter, and the
conversations between Kornel and my father ran mainly in
guesses about it, with much talk that was very forlorn of
interest. But what did it matter to me? I had the man, and
knew I could keep him; had I foreseen the future, even then
I would not have cared. But for all that, I was very uneasy
one hot day when Kornel rode over with a grave face and
eyes that looked as though he had not slept the night
before.

"My father gave him a sharp look, and pulled strongly at
his pipe, like a man who prepares for ticklish business.

"'You have news?' he asked.

"'Kornel nodded, and looked at me. It was a look as though
he would ask me to spare and forgive. I smiled at him, and
came and stood at his side.

"'From what you have told me,' began my father, looking
very wise, 'the water right may cut you off from the
pastures. Is that so?'

"'No,' said Kornel; 'all that is wrong.'

"'H'm. Indeed! Then you will have to carry your north
beacon farther to the east and lose the dam.'

"'Wrong again,' answered Kornel patiently.

"'Then you have won your case,' said my father, very eager
to name the truth and prove his wisdom.

"'Dear me!' said Kornel;' you have no idea at all of the
matter. You are quite out in your guesses. I have not won
my case. I have lost it, and the land and the house and the
stock along with it. I came over on a horse that is no more
mine than this chair is. For all I know my very trousers
may belong to the other man. There you have it. What do you
say to that?'

"'Then you have nothing at all?' asked my father.

"'I have a piece of waste on the dorp road, near the
spruit,' answered Kornel. 'There is a kind of hut on it.
That is all. It is only two morgen' (four acres).

"My father sat shaking his head in silence for a long time,
while Kornel clenched and unclenched his hands and stared
at the floor and frowned. I put my hand on his shoulder,
and he trembled.

"'It is an affliction,' said my father at last, 'and no
doubt you know very well what you have done to deserve it.
But it might be worse. You might have had a wife, and then
what would you have done?'

"One is wise to honor one's parents always, but one cannot
be blind. I think my father might sometimes have spoken
less and done better for it.

"'We have talked about Christina yonder,' continued my
father, pointing at me with the stem of his pipe. 'It is a
good thing it went no further than talk.'

"'But it did,' I said quickly. 'It went much further. It
went to my promise and Kornel's; and if I am ready to keep
mine now, I shall not look to see him fail in his.'

"Ah! He never needed any but the smallest spur. Your true
man kindles quickly. At my word he sprang up and his arm
folded me. I gasped in the grip of it.

"'My promise holds,' he said, through clenched teeth.

"My father had a way of behaving like a landdrost
(magistrate) at times, and now he wrinkled his forehead and
smiled very wisely.

"'When one's bed is on the veld,' he said,' it is not the
time to remember a promise to a girl. It is easier to find
a bedfellow than a blanket sometimes. And then, I am to be
considered, and I cannot suffer this kind of thing.'

"'I think you will have to manage it,' answered Kornel.

"'Do you?' said my father. 'Well, I have nothing to give
you. Christina, come here to me!'

"Kornel loosed his arm and set me free, but I stayed where
I was.

"'Father,' I cried, 'I have promised Kornel!'

"'Come here!' he said again. Then, when I did not move,
disobeying him for the first time in my life, his face
darkened. 'Are you not coming?' he said.

"'No,' I answered, and my man's arm took me again, tight--
tight, Katje.

"'Well,' said my father, 'you had better be off, the two of
you. Do not come here again.'

"'We can do that much to please you,' answered Kornel, with
his head very high. 'Come, Christina!'

"And I followed him from my father's house. I had not even
a hat for my head.

"We were married forthwith, of course--no later than the
next day,--and the day after that I rode with my man to the
plot beside the dorp spruit to see our home that had to be.
That was a great day for me; and to be going in gentle
companionship with Kornel across the staring veld and along
the empty road was a most wonderful thing, and its flavor
is still a relish to my memory. I knew that he feared what
we were to see--the littleness and mean poverty of it, after
the spaciousness of the farm; but most of all it galled him
that I should see it on this our first triumphant day. He
was very gentle and most loving, but shadows grew on his
face, and there was a track of worry between his brows that
spurred me. I knew what I had to do, now that our fortunes
were knitted, and I did it.

"The plot was a slope from the edge of the dorp to the
little spruit, not fenced nor sundered in any way from the
squalid brick which houses the lower end of Dopfontein.
Full in face of it was the location of the Kafirs; around
it and close at hand were the gross and dirty huts of the
off-colors (half-castes). The house, which was in the
middle of the plot, was a bulging hovel of green brick, no
more stately or respectable than any of the huts round
about. As our horses picked their way through the muck
underfoot, and we rode down to it, the off-colors swarmed
out of their burrows and grinned and pointed at us.

"Kornel helped me from my saddle, and we went together to
see the inside of the house. It was very foul and broken,
with the plain traces of Kafirs in each of its two rooms,
and a horrid litter everywhere. As I looked round I saw
Kornel straighten himself quickly, and my eyes went to his.

"'This is our home,' he said bluntly, with a twitching of
the cheek.

"I nodded.

"'Perhaps,' he said in the same hard tone, as if he were
awaiting an onslaught of reproach,--'perhaps I was wrong to
bring you to this, but it is too late to tell me so now. It
is not much--'

"I broke in and laughed. 'You will not know it when I have
set it to rights,' I answered. 'It shall be a home indeed
by the time I am through with it.'

"His cheek twitched yet, as though some string under the
flesh were quivering with a strain.

"'It's you and me against all the evil luck in the world,'
he cried, but his face was softening.

"I cowered within the arm he held out to me, and told him I
was all impatience to begin the fight. And he cried on my
shoulder, and I held him to me and soothed him from a
spring of motherhood that broke loose in my heart.

"Within a week we were living in the place, and, Katje, I
hope you will feel yet for some roof what I felt for that,
with all its poorness. It was the first home of my
wifehood: I loved it. I worked over it, as later I worked
over the children God bestowed on me, purging it, remaking
it, spending myself on it, and gilding it with the joy of
the work. From the beams of the roof to the step of the
door I cleansed it with my hands, marking it by its
spotlessness for the habitation of white folk among the
yellow people all around. Kornel did little to aid me in
that--for the most part he was seeking work in the town; and
even when he was at home I drove him sharply from the labor
that was mine, and mine alone. The yellow people were very
curious about it all, and would stand and watch me through
the door till Kornel sjamboked them away; and even then
some of their fat talkative women would come round with
offers of help and friendship. But though we were fallen to
poverty, we had not come so low as that; and few came to me
a second time, and none a third.

"Still, though Kornel humbled himself and asked very little
money, there was no work to be had in the dorp. No
storekeeper had a use for him, and the transport agents had
too many riders already. Day after day went by, and each
day he came back more grim, with a duller light in those
kind eyes of his and a slower twinkle.

"'You must trust in yourself,' I told him, as he sat by the
table and would have it that he was not hungry.

"'I trust in you,' he answered, with a pitiable attempt at
his old sparkle. 'You have proved yourself; I have not--yet,
and I could do the work of three Kafirs, too.'

"The next day he came home at noon, with a swing in his
gait and his fingers working.

"'I've got work,' he said, 'at last.'

"I stopped sewing and looked at him. 'Is it a white man's
work?' I asked.

"'It is work,' he retorted.

"'Very well,' I said; 'but remember, we sink or soar
together, and in neither case will I blame you. If you get
white man's work, you shall have a white man's wife; but if
you are going to do the work of Kafirs--'

"'Yes,' he said; 'and what then?'

"'In that case,' I answered, 'I shall do washing to eke it
out and be a level mate for you.'

"'By God, you won't!' he cried, and his hand came down hard
on the table. There was no mistaking his face: the command
and the earnestness of it lighted up his eyes. I stared at
him in a good deal of surprise, for though I had known it
was there, this was the first I had seen of the steel
strain in my man.

"'Call it Kafir work, or what you please,' he went on, with
a briskness of speech that made answer impossible. 'You
will keep this house and concern yourself with that only.
The gaining of money is my affair. Leave it to me,
therefore.'

"I cast down my eyes, knowing I must obey, but a little
while after I asked him again what the work was to be.

"'Making bricks,' he answered. 'Here we have the spruit at
our door and mud for the picking up. It needs only a box-
mould or two, and it will be funny if I can't turn out as
many good bricks in a day as three lazy Kafirs. Old Pagan,
the contractor, has said he will buy them, so now it only
remains to get to work.'

"As he said this, I noticed the uneasiness that kept him
from meeting my eye, for in truth it was a sorry employ to
put his strength to,--a dirty toil, all the dirtier for the
fact that only Kafirs handled it in Dopfontein, and the pay
was poor. From our door one could always see the brick-
making going on along the spruit, with the mud-streaked
niggers standing knee-deep in the water, packing the wet
dirt into the boxes, and spilling them out to be baked in
the sun or fired, as the case might be. There was too much
grime and discomfort to it to be a respectable trade.

"But Kornel went to work at once, carrying down box-moulds
from the contractor's yard, and stacking them in the stiff
gray mud at the edge of the spruit, I went with him to see
him start. He waded down over his boots, into the slow
water, and plunged his arms elbow-deep into the mud.

"'Here's to an honest living,' he said, and lilted a great
lump of slime into the first box and kneaded it close.
Then, as he set it aside and reached for the next, he
looked up to me with a smile that was all awry. My heart
bled for him.

"'But there's no time to be polite,' he said, as the mud
squelched into the second box. 'Here's the time to prove
how a white man can work when he goes about it. So run back
to the house, my kleintje, and leave me to make my
fortune.'

"And forthwith he braced himself and went at that sorry
work with all his fine strength. I had not the heart to
stay by him; I knew that my eyes upon him were like
offering him an insult, and yet I never looked at him save
in love. But once or twice I glanced from the doorway, and
saw him bowed still over that ruthless task, slaving
doggedly, as good men do with good work.

"When the evening meal was due he came in, drenched from
head to foot, and patched and lathered with the pale sticky
mud; but though he was so tired that he drooped like a sick
man where he stood, his face was bright again and his eyes
were once more a-twinkle with hope and confidence.

"As he changed his clothes and washed himself, he talked
cheerily to me through the wall, with a spirit like a
boy's.

"'I've begun, at any rate,' he called out, 'and that's a
great thing. If I go as far forward as I've gone back, I
shall be satisfied. Where did you say the comb was?'

"And all through supper he chattered in the same vein,
rejoicing in the muscles that ached with work and in his
capacity to do more and bear more than the Kafirs who were
his rivals.

For me, I was pleased enough and thankful to hear the heart
of him thus vocal, and to mark the man I knew of old and
chose to be my mate come to light in this laborer, new from
his toil.

"We did not sit late that night, for, with all his elation
and reawakened spirits. Kornel was weary to the honest bone
of him, and swayed with sleep as he stood on his feet. He
rolled into my clean, cool sheets with a grunt of utter
satisfaction. 'This is comfort indeed,' he said drowsily,
as I leaned over him, and he was asleep before I had
answered.

"At daylight he rose and went forth to the spruit again,
and there all day he labored earnestly. Each time that I
looked towards him I saw his back bent and his arms
plunging in the mud, while the rows of wet bricks grew
longer and multiplied. I heard him whistling at it,--some
English melody he had gathered long before at a
waapenschauw,--with a light heart, the while he was up to
his knees in the dirty water, with the mud plastered all
over him.

"By and by I went down to the bank and asked him how he
did. He straightened himself, grimacing humorously at the
stiffness of his back, and answered me cheerily.

"'Tomorrow old Pagan will come down and pay for what I have
done,' he said. I think he will be surprised at the amount.
His Kafirs have no such appetite for it as I.' And he
laughed.

"It was a dreadful business he had taken in hand, and work
hard beyond believing. The boxes stood in a pile above the
stream, and each had to be reached down as one was filled,
and as soon as two were full Kornel must climb the bank to
set them aside. When all were full, they had to be turned
out on the level ground, and all this, as you can see,
meant that he must scramble up and down in the heavy mud,
taxing every spring in his poor body. Yet he toiled
ceaselessly, attacking the job with a kind of light-hearted
desperation that made nothing of its hardships, bringing to
it a tough and unconquerable joy in the mere effort, which
drove him ever like a spur.

"As I watched him delving, I thought that here a woman
could render some measure of help, and as he turned from
talking to me I began to empty out the boxes that were
ready and stack them again on the pile. I had not yet
turned out ten bricks when he saw me, and paused in his
melancholy work.

"'Stop that!' he cried, and scrambled out of the spruit to
where I stood. 'I suppose,' he went on, 'you would like
your father to know that I had suffered you to work for me
like a Kafir.'

"'Kornel!' I cried in horror.

"But he was white on the cheek-bones and breathing hard,
and I could not soften him.

"'Rich man's daughter or poor man's wife,' he said, 'you
are white, and must keep your station. It is my business to
sell myself, not yours. Get you back to the house I have
given you, and stay there.'

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