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"Because the ghost of the old Englishwoman will be after me if I go alone." "You fool!" said Jess angrily; then recollecting herself she added, "Come, be a man, Jantje; think of your father and mother, and be a man." "I am a man," he answered sulkily, "and I will kill him like a man, but what good is a man against the ghost of a dead Englishwoman?
Then, having scored one success, Grosvenor attempted another by suggesting that Jantje and 'Nkuku should be entrusted with the inspanning and driving of the wagon, which could be accomplished with much greater facility if the oxen were handled by those to whom they were accustomed.
Then, as the Hottentot joined him, he continued: "See here, Jantje, I want the wounded man very carefully removed from the hut, and carried over yonder into the shadow of that tree. Just explain to these fellows, will you, and ask them to help me."
"How should he know that Jantje remembers the old woman's voice ay, and the words that the devil in her spoke too? Hee! hee! hee!" Finally he departed to eat his supper of beef, which he had cut off an unfortunate ox which that morning had expired of a mysterious complication of diseases, filled with a happy sense that he had not lived that day in vain.
And now I will make more notches, one for the house that is burnt, and one for the old Baas Croft, my own Baas, whom he is going to shoot, and one for Missie Bessie." And Jantje drew from his side his large white-handled hunting-knife and began to cut them then and there upon the hard wood of the stick. Jess knew this knife of old.
He does not know very much about horses, but he is a plucky fellow, and would stick by one at a pinch. One can't rely on Jantje; he is always sneaking off somewhere, and would be sure to get drunk just as one wanted him." "Yes, yes, John, that's right, that's right," said the old man. "I will go and see about having the horses got up and the wheels greased. Where is the castor-oil, Bessie?
"Yah, missie," answered a hoarse voice outside, and next second the Hottentot's monkey-like face came creeping into the ring of light, followed by his even more monkey-like form. "Sit down there, Jantje. I am lonely here and want to talk." He obeyed her, with a grin. "What shall we talk about, missie?
"Ah, I thought he had come after missie," said Jantje, who, pursuing his former tactics, was once more indulging his passion for slinking about behind trees and in tufts of grass. "Now what will missie say?" "How are you, Bessie?" said Muller in a quiet voice, but she, looking into his face, saw that it belied the voice.
A few minutes later, while Jantje and 'Nkuku were superintending the watering of the oxen, some half-dozen women, carrying baskets poised upon their heads, were seen approaching from the village.
I know how to read the omen;" and he gnashed his teeth and sawed the air with his clenched fists. "Yes, you are right, Jantje," she said, still holding him with her dark eyes. "He will die in blood, and he will die to-night, and you will kill him, Jantje." The Hottentot started, and turned pale under his yellow skin. "How?" he said; "how?"
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