Nobody was stirring, and as it was practically impossible to arouse the slumbering Kafirs from the various holes and corners where they were taking their rest--for a native hates the cold of the dawning--Mouti and he were obliged to harness the horses and inspan them without assistance--an awkward job in the dark.

At last, however, everything was ready, and, as the bill had been paid overnight, there was nothing to wait for, so they clambered into the cart and made a start.

But before they had proceeded forty yards, however, John heard a voice calling to him to stop.

He did so, and presently, holding a lighted candle which burnt without a flicker in the still damp air, and draped from head to foot in a dingy-looking blanket, appeared the male Cassandra of the previous evening.
He advanced slowly and with dignity, as became a prophet, and at length reached the side of the cart, where the sight of his illuminated figure and of the dirty blanket over his head nearly made the horses run away.
"What is it ?" said John testily, for he was in no mood for delay.
"I thought I'd just get up to tell you," replied the draped form, "that I am quite sure that I was right, and that the Boers will shoot you.

I should not like you to say afterwards that I have not warned you," and he held up the candle so that the light fell on John's face, and gazed at it in fond farewell.
"Curse it all," said John in a fury, "if that was all you had to say you might have kept in bed," and he brought down his lash on the wheelers and away they went with a bound, putting out the prophet's candle and nearly knocking the prophet himself backwards into the _sluit_..