It was indeed Harold--thinner, perhaps, than when he had left England, but bronzed and hardened, and fit in every way for the arduous work of the campaign. Brenda clung to him as though she would never let him go. She looked upon him as one who had been snatched from the jaws of death; and assuredly he would have found a grave in Pretoria had he been left to the tender mercies of Van Zwieten. He, on his side, was delighted and moved beyond words at her tenderness, and at her pluck in undertaking a toilsome and dangerous journey to be near him. It was some time before husband and wife recovered themselves sufficiently to exchange confidences. Brenda cried in spite of her brave spirit, for the joy of this unexpected meeting had shaken her nerves. When she had regained her composure, and was able to speak, it was to congratulate her husband on his escape from Pretoria, and from the dangerous custody of Van Zwieten. He laughed outright. "That is just where you make the mistake, my love!" he said. "I never was in or near Pretoria, and I have seen nothing of Van Zwieten since I left England. What on earth makes you think so?" She sat down and looked at him in astonishment. "I don't understand you," she said. "You were reported missing. I went to the War Office myself and made certain that the report was correct." "That is true enough. I was out on patrol duty with a small force while the General was trying to force the passage of the Tugela. A party of Boers took us by surprise and captured us; but after a week in their custody I was lucky enough to escape. I'll tell you all about it later. What I want to know now is how you come to be out in these parts." "Don't you know? Van Zwieten wrote to me saying that you were at Pretoria and under his charge, and that he would have you shot if I did not come out to see him. Father and I set off at once, and we were on our way to Pretoria to see the President and implore him to save you from that man." "Brenda, are you sure of what you are saying? It is all new to me." "Here is his letter. I always carry it with me. I was going to show it to Kruger when I saw him." Harold took the letter, which his wife produced from her pocketbook, and read it with a frown. "Well, he is a scoundrel!" he remarked as he gave it back to her. "Of course, it is a trap, and a very clever one. I suppose he heard that I was missing, through the Boer spies, and he turned the information to his own advantage. Don't you see, Brenda, he wanted you to come out to the Transvaal so that you might be in his power."