Just then Tanta Sal touched his arm, pointed to the light, and made a puffing sound with her lips. "Put it out?" he whispered. She nodded, and Dyke turned down the wick, so that the place was only lit up by the pale rays of the moon. "Where are they?" whispered Dyke. "At the wagon?" "No, not come; Jack come say Tant Sal go 'way to-night 'long o' Jack. Gone fetch Kaffir, carry mealies. Come." She took his arm tightly and led him to the door, which he found ajar, and as soon as they were outside she closed it after them. "Stop a moment. Let's have the dog." "No: dog make noise, and Jack top. Come." The woman led him to the wagon, and mounting on to the box, opened the canvas and crept in silently, while the boy hesitated to follow. Suppose it was a trap, and Tanta had her husband and two or three men in waiting there. "Absurd!" he thought the next moment. "Why should they hurt me? They could have robbed the wagon without." Mounting then quickly, he felt his arm seized, and he was half drawn into the wagon, where all was black on one side, while the canvas tilt showed faintly in the moonlight on the other. Dyke was just able to make out that the woman was watching by the canvas, which hung over the front; then she reached back to him. "Jack say try kill Baas Dyke, but dog come. Kill Baas Dyke some day." "That's nice," whispered the boy. "What for?" "Jack tief. Want wagon, want horse, want all." "Then it's war," said Dyke, "and he shan't have them." "Shoo!" whispered the woman, and she leaned forward with her head half out of the opening. Then turned quickly. "Jack come, Jack one, Jack one, Jack one." "Four of them?" whispered Dyke. "Oomps. Baas Dyke shoot." The boy pressed the triggers as he drew up the cocks of his piece, so that the clicking made was extremely faint, and then stood ready and expectant. But he had not long to wait. For almost directly there was a dull sound as of footsteps; a heavy breathing, and hands tugged at the tightly fastened canvas at the back of the wagon. Then there was a low whispering. Whoever it was passed along to the front of the wagon, and then there was a heavy breathing as the visitors swung themselves up on to the wagon-box, Dyke judging from the sounds that either three or four people had climbed up. Then the canvas was dragged back, and as Dyke pointed his gun, hesitating about firing, and then deciding to shoot overhead to startle the marauders, one crept in. At that moment there was a whizz and the sound of a tremendous blow, followed by a loud yell of pain and a perfect shower of blows delivered with wonderful rapidity upon the attacking party, who sprang out and fell from the wagon front. It was all almost momentary, and then Dyke was leaning out through the canvas, and fired twice at random.