“I do not argue law with young ladies,” he said, with a little laugh, “but I am always ready to oblige young ladies, especially this young lady. Now, yonder witch and cattle-thief has richly earned her doom, yet, because you ask it, Suzanne Botmar, I am ready to withdraw the prosecution against her, and to destroy the written record of it in my hand, on two conditions, of which the first is that she pays over to me by way of compensation for what she has stolen, all her cattle and other belongings. Do you consent to that, witch?” “How can I refuse?” said Sihamba, with a bitter laugh, “seeing that if I do you will take both life and goods. But what is the second condition?” “I am coming to that, witch, but it has nothing to do with you. Suzanne, it is this: that here, before all these people, as the price of this thief’s life, you give me the kiss which you refused to me the other day.” Now, before Suzanne could answer, Sihamba broke in eagerly, “Nay, lady, let not your lips be stained and your heart be shamed for the sake of such as I. Better that I should die than that you should suffer defilement at the hands of Swart Piet, who, born of white blood and black, is false to both and a disgrace to both.” “I cannot do it,” gasped Suzanne, turning pale and not heeding her outburst, “and, Heer van Vooren, you are a coward to ask it of me.” “Can’t you?” he sneered. “Well, you need not, unless you please, and it is true that young women like best to be kissed alone. Here, you Kaffirs, pull that little devil up; slowly now, that she may learn what a tight string feels like about her throat before it chokes her.” In obedience to his command three of the evil fellows with him caught hold of the end of the rope which hung over the bough, and began to pull, dragging the light form of Sihamba upwards till only the tips of her big toes touched the ground. “Doesn’t she dance prettily?” said Swart Piet with a brutal laugh, at the same time motioning to the men to keep her thus a while. Now Suzanne looked at the blackening lips and the little form convulsed in its death struggle, and could bear the sight no more. “Let her down!” she cried, and, springing from the saddle, for all this while she had been seated upon her horse, she walked up to Piet, saying, “Take what you seek, but oh! for your sake I wish to God that my lips were poison.” “No, no,” gasped Sihamba, who now was lying half choked upon the ground. “That is not our bargain, dear,” said Piet; “it is that you should kiss me, not I you.”