Though we had not in
the least anticipated this sudden revolt--it broke like a thunder-clap
from a clear sky--the unsettled state of the country made even women go
armed about their daily avocations.
I strode on, half maddened. Beside the great block of granite which
sheltered the farm there rose one of those rocky little hillocks of
loose boulders which are locally known in South Africa by the Dutch name
of kopjes. I looked out upon it drearily. Its round brown ironstones lay
piled irregularly together, almost as if placed there in some earlier
age by the mighty hands of prehistoric giants. My gaze on it was blank.
I was thinking, not of it, but of Hilda, Hilda.
I called the name aloud: "Hilda! Hilda! Hilda!"
As I called, to my immense surprise, one of the smooth round boulders on
the hillside seemed slowly to uncurl, and to peer about it cautiously.
Then it raised itself in the slant sunlight, put a hand to its eyes,
and gazed out upon me with a human face for a moment. After that it
descended, step by step, among the other stones, with a white object
in its arms. As the boulder uncurled and came to life, I was aware, by
degrees.
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