At first Suzanne was inclined to turn her horse and fly, but she was a brave girl, and the perilous state of the little doctoress moved her to pity, for where Swart Piet was there she suspected cruelty and wicked motive.  So she rode on, yes, straight up to Swart Piet himself.

“In the name of Heaven what passes here, myn Heer?” she asked.

“Ah!  Miss Suzanne, is it you?” he answered.  “Well, you have not chosen a nice time for your visit, for we are about to—­hang—­this thief and witch, who has been duly convicted after a fair trial.”

“A fair trial,” said Suzanne, glancing scornfully at the rabble about her, “and were these friends of yours the jury?  What is her offence?”

“Her offence is that she who lives here on my land has stolen my cattle and hid them away in a secret kloof.  It has been proved against her by ample evidence.  There are the cattle yonder mixed up with her own.  I, as Veld-Cornet of the district, have tried the case according to law, and the woman having been found guilty must die according to law.”

“Indeed, myn Heer,” said Suzanne, “then if I understand you right, you are both accuser and judge, and the law which permits this is one that I never heard of.  Oh!” she went on angrily, “no wonder that the English sing a loud song about us Boers and our cruelty to the natives when such a thing as this can happen.  It is not justice, myn Heer; it is a crime for which, if you escape the hand of man, God will bring you to account.”

Then for the first time Sihamba spoke in a very quiet voice, which showed no sign of fear.

“You are right, lady,” she said; “it is not justice, it is a crime born of revenge, and my life must pay forfeit for his wickedness.  I am a free woman, and I have harmed none and have bewitched none.  I have cured sick people and sick creatures, that is all.  The Heer says that I live upon his land, but I am not his slave; I pay him rent to live here.  I never stole his cattle; they were mixed up with mine by his servants in a far-off kloof in order to trump up a charge against me, and he knows it, for he gave orders that the thing should be done, so that afterwards he might have the joy of hanging me to this tree, because he wishes to be avenged upon me for other matters, private matters between me and him.  But, lady, do not trouble yourself about the fate of such a poor black creature as I am.  Go away and tell the story if you will, but go quickly, for these sights of death are not fit for young eyes like yours to see.”

“I will not go,” exclaimed Suzanne, “or if I go, it shall be to bring down upon you, Swart Piet, the weight of the law which you have broken.  Ah! would that my father were at home; he does not love Kaffirs but he does love justice.”