xcept the other velschoen
and the remains of a Dutchman's broad-brimmed hat. We outspanned for
the night, and sat down to think it over and have a pipe while supper
was being got ready.

"`Angus,' I said, `I don't half like things. There's some dark riddle
here. The figure I saw yesterday afternoon was Dirk Starreberg's. I
knew him well, and never could mistake him. And, strangely enough, he
was heading, when I last saw him, for this very spot. If I believed in
ghosts, which I don't, I should say I had seen Dirk's spook. What do
you make of it all? I'm beginning to think I'm dreaming, or going
dotty. It beats me altogether.'

"`Well,' returned Angus, in his quaint way, `it's the most extraordinary
rum go I ever heard of. We'd better trek on in the morning, first
thing, and see what else we can discover. Those are Dirk's bones
undoubtedly; we must try and do something for the poor chap, though he
is dead.'

"I don't know what was wrong that night, but several times the oxen were
startled, and sprang to their feet; and the nags--fastened up to the
wagon-wheels--were desperately scared once or twice, and pulled at their
_riems_ as though they must break them; the dogs, too, barked and
howled, and behaved very strangely. And yet no lions were near us.
Once or twice we looked out, but saw nothing. All of us, masters and
boys, were uncomfortable--we could hardly explain why, and the men
undoubtedly knew nothing of what I had seen the day before.

"At dawn next morning we were not sorry to inspan and trek; and,
following the old wagon-spoor, we pushed on, determined if possible to
get to the bottom of the affair. All that day and all the next we
toiled on, only outspanning once or twice during the daytime, and at
night, by water, to rest and refresh the oxen for a few hours. At last,
an hour before sunset of the second day, Angus and I, who were riding
ahead of the wagon, spied suddenly among some camel-thorn trees the tent
of a wagon, to which we cantered. Suddenly, as we reined up, the
fore-clap was cast aside, and a wild figure of a woman appeared, and
scrambled down from the wagon-box. It was Vrouw Starreberg, but
terribly, sadly altered from the stout, if somewhat grim, good-wife I
had last seen a couple of years before. Her dark stuff dress was torn
and cut about by the thorn-bushes; her erst fat, smooth face, broad
though it still was, was lined and haggard, and terribly fallen away;
but, above al