“Mavovo named me Light-in-Darkness, and by that name the Kafirs know me now, Baas, though some of them call me Lord-of-the-Fire.”

“Then Mavovo named you well, for indeed, Hans, you shine like a light in the darkness of my heart.  I whom you think wise am but a fool, Hans, who has been tricked by a vernuker, a common cheat, and he has tricked you and Sammy as well.  But as he has shown me that man can be very vile, you have shown me that he can be very noble; and, setting the one against the other, my spirit that was in the dust rises up once more like a withered flower after rain.  Light-in-Darkness, although if I had ten thousand pounds I could never pay you back—­since what you have given me is more than all the gold in the world and all the land and all the cattle—­yet with honour and with love I will try to pay you,” and I held out my hand to him.

He took it and pressed it against his wrinkled old forehead, then answered: 

“Talk no more of that, Baas, for it makes me sad, who am so happy.  How often have you forgiven me when I have done wrong?  How often have you not flogged me when I should have been flogged for being drunk and other things—­yes, even when once I stole some of your powder and sold it to buy square-face gin, though it is true I knew it was bad powder, not fit for you to use?  Did I thank you then overmuch?  Why therefore should you thank me who have done but a little thing, not really to help you but because, as you know, I love gambling, and was told that this bit of paper would soon be worth much more than I gave for it.  If it had proved so, should I have given you that money?  No, I should have kept it myself and bought a bigger farm and more cattle.”

“Hans,” I said sternly, “if you lie so hard, you will certainly go to hell, as the Predikant, my father, often told you.”

“Not if I lie for you, Baas, or if I do it doesn’t matter, except that then we should be separated by the big kloof written of in the Book, especially as there I should meet the Baas Jacob, as I very much want to do for a reason of my own.”

Not wishing to pursue this somewhat unchristian line of thought, I inquired of him why he felt happy.

“Oh!  Baas,” he answered with a twinkle in his little black eyes, “can’t you guess why?  Now you have very little money left and I have none at all.  Therefore it is plain that we must go somewhere to earn money, and I am glad of that, Baas, for I am tired of sitting on that farm out there and growing mealies and milking cows, especially as I am too old to marry, Baas, as you are tired of looking for gold where there isn’t any and singing sad songs in that house of meeting yonder like you did this afternoon.  Oh! the Great Father in the skies knew what He was about when He sent the Baas Jacob our way.  He beat us for our good, Baas, as He does always if we could only understand.”

I reflected to myself that I had not often heard the doctrine of the Church better or more concisely put, but I only said: