oke.

"Missie must come with me!"

"Come with you!" answered Jess starting, "why?"

"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? If I put
the knife into her she would only make faces, and fire would come out of
the hole. I will not go without you, missie."

"You must go," she said fiercely; "you shall go!"

"No, missie, I will not go alone," he answered.

Jess looked at him and saw that Jantje meant what he said. He was
growing sulky, and the worst dispositioned donkey in the world is far,
far easier to deal with than a sulky Hottentot. She must either give up
the project or go with the man. Well, she was equally guilty one way or
the other, and being almost callous about detection, she might as well
go. She had no power left to make fresh plans. Her mind seemed to be
exhausted. Only she must keep out of the way at the last. She could not
bear to be near then.

"Well," she said, "I will go with you, Jantje."

"Good, missie, that is all right now. You can keep off the ghost of the
dead Englishwoman while I kill Baas Frank. But first he must be fast
asleep. Fast, fast asleep."

Then slowly and with the uttermost caution once more they crept down the
hill. This time there was no sound to be heard except the regular tramp
of the sentries. But their present business did not take them to the
waggon-house; they left that on their right, and went on towards the
blue-gum avenue. When they were nearly opposite to the first tree they
halted in a patch of stones, and Jantje slipped forward to reconnoitre.
Presently he returned with the intelligence that all the Boers who were
with the waggon had gone to sleep, but that Muller was still sitting in
his tent thinking. Then they crept on, perfectly sure that if they were
not heard they would not be seen, curtained as they were by the dense
mist and darkness.

At length they reached the bole of the first big gum tree. Five paces
from this tree Frank Muller's tent was pitched. There was a light in
it which caused the wet tent to glow in the mist, as though it had been
rubbed with phosphorus, and on this lurid canvas the shadow of Frank
Muller was gigantically limned. He w