He lifted her from the horse, and she saw the stout woman whom he called Tant' Trana waiting on the door to receive them. The look she gave Brenda was by no means one of kindly welcome. Rather was it full of hostility. But she seemed to fear Van Zwieten, and she set herself to do her best to make the English lady comfortable. When he had gone out to look after his horse, Tant' Trana set the best she had in the way of food before Brenda. But the girl was utterly exhausted, and could not eat. She drank a cup of coffee, and the Boer woman watched her dourly as she drank it. Then it appeared that Tant' Trana spoke English. "I am no child," she said. "No; I have lived long, and the dear Lord has watched over me. But never did I expect to see an Englishwoman at my table. Beloved Lord, Thy wrath is heavy upon me!" "I am very sorry," said Brenda, considerably taken aback by this outburst. "I won't trouble you long--only till morning." But Tant' Trana continued without heeding her. She was so fat that it took her some time to recover her breath. "The dear Lord gave this land to us--to the chosen of Israel. And you English--you seed of Satan come to take it from us!" She shook her great fist in Brenda's face. "But never fear, our burghers shall drive you into the sea. Oom Paul is our Moses. Two sons and a husband have I fighting for the land of milk and honey. We have two thousand morgen and you would take it from us. Beloved Lord, let our Moses and his hosts smite the ungodly Amalekites!" How long the old woman went on raving thus Brenda did not know. She began to feel sleepy: the face of Tant' Trana seemed to grow larger and more red then it receded and her voice seemed to grow more faint--to come from far away, although the woman was talking her loudest. Brenda had just grasped the idea that her coffee had been drugged when she lost her senses. With one last effort she pulled out her little revolver. It dropped from her hand as her head fell back. The Boer woman picked it up and cursed like Deborah. Senseless and white, Brenda lay in the big chair, Tant' Trana looking on and raving the while. Then Van Zwieten entered the room. A smile of satisfaction flitted across his face. How long she remained thus insensible Brenda knew not. She came gradually to herself. Then she wondered if she could be on board ship. There was a rocking motion, and she felt as though she were imprisoned. Then her senses grew more clear, and she awoke to the fact that she was on horseback--in the arms of Van Zwieten. He held her steadily in front of him on the saddle, and the horse was trotting steadily over the grass, and a thunderous black sky was overhead. She uttered a cry, and gave herself up for lost. Once again she felt for her revolver. Van Zwieten guessed what she was after, and laughed cruelly. "No, it's not there, Mrs. Burton," he said. "I had to arrange that. I'm glad, though, you've woke up. I want to have a talk with you."