gs are going to happen in the country,
and I shall be at the head of them, or near it. No, don't try to get
away. I tell you I love you, you don't know how. I am dying for you. Oh!
can't you believe me? my darling! my darling! Yes, I _will_ kiss you,"
and in an agony of passion, that her resistance only fired the more, he
flung his strong arms round her and drew her to his breast, fight as she
would.

But at this opportune moment an unexpected diversion occurred, of which
the hidden Jantje was the cause. Seeing that matters were becoming
serious, and being afraid to show himself lest Frank Muller should kill
him then and there, as indeed he would have been quite capable of doing,
he hit upon another expedient, to the service of which he brought a
ventriloquistic power that is not uncommon among natives. Suddenly the
silence was broken by a frightful and prolonged wail that seemed to
shape itself into the word "Frank," and to proceed from the air just
above the struggling Bessie's head. The effect produced upon Muller was
something wonderful.

"_Allemachter!_" he cried, looking up, "it is my mother's voice!"

"_Frank!_" wailed the voice again, and he let go of Bessie in his
perplexity and fear, and turned round to try and discover whence the
sound proceeded--a circumstance of which that young lady took advantage
to beat a rapid if not very dignified retreat.

"_Frank! Frank! Frank!_" wailed and howled the voice, now overhead, now
on this side, now on that, till at last Muller, thoroughly mystified
and feeling his superstitious fears rising apace as the moaning sound
flitted about beneath the dark arch of the gum-trees, made a rush for
his horse, which was snorting and trembling in every limb. It is almost
as easy to work upon the superstitious fears of a dog or a horse as upon
those of a man, but Muller, not being aware of this, took the animal's
alarm as a clear indication of the uncanny nature of the voice. With
a single bound he sprang into his saddle, and as he did so the woman's
voice wailed out once more--

"_Frank_, thou shalt die in blood as I did, Frank!"

Muller turned livid with fear, and the cold perspiration streamed from
his face. He was a bold man enough physically, but this was too much for
his nerves.

"It is my mother's voice, they are her very words!" he called out aloud,
then, dashing his spurs into his horse's flanks, he went like a flash
far from the accursed spot; nor did he draw rein till