The Vrouw Prinsloo, in her absurd night garments, was waddling towards the figure, and a little way off stood Hernan Pereira, apparently in the act of reloading a double-barrelled gun.

Beyond, staring at him, stood the lantern-faced Henri Marais, pulling at his long beard with one hand and holding a rifle in the other.

Behind were two saddled horses in the charge of a raw Kaffir, who looked on stupidly.
The Vrouw Prinsloo reached the body that lay upon the ground dressed in what resembled my clothes, and bending down her stout shape with an effort, turned it over.

She glared into its face and then began to shriek.
"Come here, Henri Marais," she shrieked, "come, see what your beloved nephew has done! You had a daughter who was all your life to you, Henri Marais.

Well, come, look at her after your beloved nephew has finished his work with her!" Henri Marais advanced slowly like one who does not understand.