It was very bad to be discovered in the act of giving; it made him red up to the roots of his old grizzled hair.

No one was about, however, so he rode off again.

Beside the milk-bush sat the Kaffer woman still--like Hagar, he thought, thrust out by her mistress in the wilderness to die.

Telling her to loosen the handkerchief from her head, he poured into it the contents of his bag.
The woman tied it up in sullen silence.
"You must try and get to the next farm," said the German.
The woman shook her head; she would sleep in the field.
The German reflected.

Kaffer women were accustomed to sleep in the open air; but then, the child was small, and after so hot a day the night might be chilly.