er feet against rocks
and boschies, drenched and driven by the storm. It was old Andrew
McNeil whom she found first, and he seemed an angel from heaven after
the vile and menacing loneliness, although he was but ill pleased to
see her.

"You should be in your bed, lassie," he muttered. "The poor bairn will
never be found this night. We've searched everywhere. There's nothing
left but the water."

"Oh, don't say that!" she cried woefully, and peered, fascinated, at
the boiling torrent rushing down a kloof that but yesterday was an
innocent gully they had crossed in their walks, in some places so
narrow as to allow a jump from bank to bank. Now it was a turbulent
flood of yellow water, spreading far beyond its banks and roaring with
a rage unappeasable. While they stood there, staring, Saltire came up.

"You, Miss Chaine! I thought I asked you to return to the farm." His
tones, were frigid, but his eyes compassionate. No one with any
humanity could have failed to be touched by the forlorn girl, pale and
lovely in the dim light.

"I had to come. I could not stay inert any longer."

"We have searched every inch of the land inside the aloes," he said.
"He has either fallen into one of the streams or got out beyond the
hedge into the open veld--which seems impossible, somehow. At any
rate, we can do no more until it is light." He dismissed the natives
with a brief: "Get home, boys. _Hamba lalla!_" then turned to McNeil.
"Take Miss Chaine's other arm, Mac; we must see for ourselves that she
goes indoors."

She made some sound of remonstrance, but he paid no attention, simply
taking her arm, half leading, half supporting her. There was a long
way to go. They walked awhile in a silence that had hopelessness in
it; then Christine asked:

"Did you search every outhouse and barn?"

"Every one, and the cemetery, too," answered Saltire. "There's not a
place inside or out of the farm-buildings we haven't been over--except
Saxby's bungalow, and he's hardly likely to be there."

"He was there this afternoon," said Christine slowly. It seemed to her
time to let them into the truth.

"What!"

Both men halted in amazement. Such a thing as any one but Mrs. van
Cannan going to Saxby's was unknown. Briefly she recounted the
incidents of the afternoon. The men's verdict was the same as hers had
been.

"Atrocious!"

"Infamous! After that, we will certainly visit Saxby's," decided
Saltire. "But, first, Mi