Visitors at Harmony were few and far between, for the story of the "raid" went quickly through the town, and many people who had been in the habit of visiting the van Warmelos, all unsuspecting of the cloud under which they rested, took alarm at this first open hint of danger and discreetly withdrew from the scene. When Hansie thought of them it was with some contempt and bitterness, but her mind was, at the time, occupied with more important matters, and her fair-weather friends soon passed from her life, never to return again. Only about a dozen remained, mostly women, friends staunch and true, upon whom one could depend through days of the most crushing adversity. How close we came to one another in those days only those who have been through similar experiences can ever realise. Those three uneventful weeks were by no means the least trying of the long war. Sorely tested nervous systems were giving way, fine constitutions were being broken down, and powers of resistance had reached their limit. It needed but the acute anxiety and intense strain of the last adventure which I am about to relate, to reduce our heroines to a state bordering on the hysterical. The phases of the moon were watched in suspense, and when the time drew near for the next visit from the spies, Mrs. van Warmelo took the precaution of locking Carlo up in the kitchen before retiring for the night. Although she let him out very early every morning in order not to arouse the suspicions of the servants, "Gentleman Jim," ever on the alert, soon found out that something unusual was taking place. "Why you lock up the dog every night, missis?" he inquired one morning. Mrs. van Warmelo was completely taken by surprise, but answered with great presence of mind: "Oh, because he barks so much that we cannot sleep. But I think I will have to let him out again, because thieves will help themselves to the fruit if there is no watch-dog about." The ruse had been found out and Carlo had to be released, although his vigilance added greatly to the dangers of the situation. The grapes were ripe, great luxurious bunches of purple and golden fruit were weighing down the sturdy old vines. "I wish Captain Naude would come," Hansie sighed. "Harmony is at its very best." "He won't come again, I am convinced of that," her mother answered mournfully. "No more news from the field for us. The dangers are too great, and nothing could be gained by coming into town now that our friends have nearly all been sent away." "We shall see," Hansie said cheerfully. "I have a strong presentiment that the men are coming in this very night. I am going to put everything in readiness for them, and we must go to bed early, dear mother. Perhaps we shall have very little rest to-night." This was Sunday night, February 9th.