The swarthy, bearded diggers grouped themselves on
either side, and the cat, emerging from his retreat, scrambled on to
the shoulder of one of them, fully as curious as the rest to "see the
shootin'." It was a weird sight,--dust, scorched grass, empty tins, rude
hovels, piles of debris, African moonlight,--yet, except, perhaps, in
the eyes of the newest comers, there was nothing strange in it. The
others were too wrapped up in what was going to take place to see
anything quaint in their every-day surroundings. There was no theatre in
the camp. The little impromptu drama riveted all attention.
But before the duel commenced, a galloping horse, which had approached
over the grassy veldt unnoticed during the excitement, drew up with a
crash between the two combatants, and its rider, raising his hand to
command attention, cried:
"Boys, there's a white woman comin'!"
"A white woman!" was chorused in various tones of disbelief. "What,
here? White woman comin' here, Dan?"
And then some one inquired if she was a Boer.
"Boer--no," replied Dan; "English--English as I am; leastways Englisher,
bein' Amurrican-born myself.
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