CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

TELLS OF DARK AND THREATENING CLOUDS, AND WAR. 

The exigencies of our somewhat acrobatic tale require, at this point, that we should make a considerable bound. We shall beg the obliging reader to leap with us into the year 1834. 

Hans Marais, moustached, bearded, bronzed, and in the prime of life, sits at the door of a cottage recently built close to that of his father. Beside him sits his wife--formerly Miss Gertrude Brook, and now as sweet and pretty a young woman as you would find in a month's ride through a country where sweet pretty women were, and still are, very numerous in proportion to the population. 

Whether it was that Hans was timid, or Gertie shy, we cannot tell, but somehow it is only three months since they began their united career, and Hans considers himself to have married rather "late in life." Gertie, being now twenty-six, begins to think herself quite an old woman. It is evident, however, that this ancient couple wear well, and are sufficiently happy--if we may presume to judge from appearances. 

"Gertie," said Hans, patting the fingers which handed him his big Dutch pipe, "I fear that my father is determined to go." 

"Do you think so?" said Gertie, while a sad expression chased the sunshine from her face. 

"Yes, he says he cannot stand the treatment we Cape-Dutchmen receive from the British Government, and that he means to give up his farm, take his waggons and goods, and treck away to the north, with the friends who are already preparing to go, in search of free lands in the wilderness where the Union Jack does not fly." 
What kind of house does he have??
Hans Marais, moustached, bearded, bronzed, and in the prime of life, sits at the door of a cottage recently built close to that of his father.