from every pore. He was awake, but
fear paralysed him, he could not speak or move.

He was awake, and she could hesitate no more. . . .

He must have seen the flash of the falling steel, and----

Jess was outside the tent again, the red knife in her hand. She flung
the accursed thing from her. That shriek must have awakened every soul
within a mile. Already she could faintly hear the stir of men down by
the waggon, and the patter of the feet of Jantje running for his life.

Then she too turned, and fled straight up the hill. She knew not
whither, she cared not where! None saw her or followed her, the hunt had
broken away to the left after Jantje. Her heart was lead and her brain
a rocking sea of fire, whilst before her, around her, and behind her
yelled all the conscience-created furies that run Murder to his lair.

On she flew, one sight only before her eyes, one sound only in her ears.
On over the hill, far into the rain and the night!

CHAPTER XXXIV

TANTA COETZEE TO THE RESCUE

After Jess had been set free by the Boers outside Hans Coetzee's place,
John was sharply ordered to dismount and off-saddle his horse. This
he did with the best grace that he could muster, and the horse was
knee-haltered and let loose to feed. It was then indicated to him that
he was to enter the house, and this he also did, closely attended by two
of the Boers. The room into which he was conducted was the same that he
had first become acquainted with, on the occasion of the buck hunt that
had so nearly ended in his murder. There was the Buckenhout table,
and there were the stools and couches made of stinkwood. Also, in the
biggest chair at the other end of the room, a moderate-sized slop-basin
full of coffee by her side, sat Tanta Coetzee, still actively employed
in doing absolutely nothing. There, too, were the showily dressed
maidens, there was the sardonic lover of one of them, and all the posse
of young men with rifles. The _sit-kammer_ and its characteristics were
quite unchanged, and on entering it John felt inclined to rub his eyes
and wonder whether the events of the last few months had been nothing
but a dream.

The only thing that had changed was his welcome. Evidently he was not
expected to shake hands all round on the present occasion. Fallen indeed
would that Boer have been considered who, within a few days of Majuba,
offered to shake hands with a wretched English _rooibaatje_, picked
up like a lame buck on th