And he rode home, nodding his head in a manner that would have made any other man dizzy.
"I wish he would not come back tonight," said Em, her face wet with tears.
"It will be just the same if he comes back tomorrow," said Lyndall.
The two girls sat on the step of the cabin weeping for the German's return.

Lyndall shaded her eyes with her hand from the sunset light.
"There he comes," she said, "whistling 'Ach Jerusalem du schone' so loud I can hear him from here." "Perhaps he has found the sheep." "Found them!" said Lyndall.

"He would whistle just so if he knew he had to die tonight." "You look at the sunset, eh, chickens ?" the German said, as he came up at a smart canter.

"Ah, yes, that is beautiful!" he added, as he dismounted, pausing for a moment with his hand on the saddle to look at the evening sky, where the sun shot up long flaming streaks, between which and the eye thin yellow clouds floated.

"Ei! you weep ?" said the German, as the girls ran up to him.
Before they had time to reply the voice of Tant Sannie was heard.
"You child, of the child, of the child of a Kaffer's dog, come here!" The German looked up.