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Updated: May 6, 2025
Orpin had come to the "fair" with the double view of trading and holding intercourse on spiritual things with the Kafirs. He longed to preach Christ, the crucified Saviour, to the heathen.
At the same time he whirled the stirrup once round his head, and, bringing the iron down with tremendous force on the skull of his pursuer, hurled him to the ground. "Stephen Orpin!" exclaimed Conrad Marais in amazement, as the trader galloped up. "You've got more pluck than I gave you credit for," growled Jan Smit.
"Come, I will try to make you understand," returned Orpin, pulling out the New Testament which he always carried in his pocket. "Some white men who call themselves Christians are heathens, and some black men are Christians. We are all, black and white, born bad, and God has sent us a Saviour, and a message, so that all who will, black or white, may become good."
"I know that," replied Orpin, "and it was to deliver you from that state of mind that Jesus came. Think, Ruyter, think " He was interrupted at this point by the sound of an approaching ox-waggon. Ruyter, being a well-known outlaw, did not dare to show himself at the fair, although not a whit worse in any respect than most of the Kafir chiefs who walked openly there unchallenged.
While Black and his friend Jerry were observing Orpin, as he conversed with the brothers Skyd, the tall burly Englishman from whose shoulders the former had been hurled into the sea, chanced to pass, and quietly grasped the Scot by the arm. "Here you are at last!
Orpin now felt certain that the group of principal men who drew together a little apart were concerting the best mode of attacking the emigrant farmers, and his heart burned within him as he thought of them resting there in fancied security, while these black scoundrels were plotting their destruction. But what could he do alone and totally unarmed?
The robbers were evidently aware of the nature of a gun, for they halted on seeing the decided action of the trader. "Come on!" shouted Orpin to his men, looking back over his shoulder; but his men were nowhere to be seen: they had deserted him at the first sight of the robbers, and scrambled away into the jungle like monkeys.
On the way they came on a sight which filled Orpin with sadness and anxiety. It was the ruins of a village, which from the appearance of the remains had evidently been occupied in part by white men. He observed that a gleam of satisfaction lit up Hintza's swarthy visage for a moment as he passed the place. Dismounting, the party proceeded to examine the ruins, but found nothing.
"My dear fellow," said Considine, with a sudden burst of candour, "I believe you are right, and I plead guilty; but then what can we do? We are not clergymen." "Stephen Orpin is not a clergyman, yet see what he does. It was seeing what that man does, and how he lives, that first set me a-thinking on this subject.
Desiring his men to proceed in advance, the robber chief asked Orpin to sit down on a fallen tree beside him, and relate what had happened. When he had done so, Ruyter shook his head and said in his broken English "You's bin my friend, Orpin, but I cannot help you dis time. Booby not under me now, an' we's bof b'long to Dragoener's band. I's sorry, but not can help you."
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