BELIEF IN GHOSTS. 34/ 



told him so most emphatically. ' Nothing ! ' he 

 whispered, in a voice overcome with fear ; ' look 

 there, right in front, just entering the kloof, straight 

 ahead, look — look — look ! ' 



" I shaded my eyes with my hand, the better to 

 protect them from the rain, and, true enough, just 

 entering the poort of the kloof, I saw what I deemed 

 to be a party of Kaffirs, with baggage-oxen, in single 

 file, evidently pursuing the same road as ourselves. 



"Turning to my after-rider, I said, 'It's only a 

 party of natives, you fool.' 



"'No, Bass,' he answered, "it is the ghost of 

 Morocco, his son and their wives, who were mur- 

 dered in this kloof forty years ago this very month.' 

 Here Jansey, who was a good Catholic, in spite of 

 his fears, found time to cross himself. 



" During breaks between the drift and the rain, 

 I managed to see more of this mysterious cortdge. 



"It consisted of ten persons, five of whom ap- 

 peared to be women, and with them were ten dun- 

 coloured oxen, half of these animals being loaded 

 with the usual odds and ends that compose a Kaffir's 

 household gods. Certainly, it was a most mysterious 

 looking procession, each human being that composed 

 it, keeping with the utmost regularity his or her 

 allotted place, and more mysterious still was it that, 

 all the cattle should be the same colour, and that a 

 most unusual one. 



" Jansey kept close to my heels. I could, during 



