The rain beat with a deafening rattle upon the roof of the stoep.  It was falling perfectly straight now as if a million taps were running.  And another memory flashed upon Burke as he stepped forth,—­the memory of a girl who had clung to him in just such another downpour and begged him not to leave her.  He heard the accents of her voice, felt again the slender youthfulness of her frame.  He flung his arms wide with an anguished gesture.

Another voice, keen-edged and ruthless, was cutting its way through his soul, lacerating him, agonizing him.  “And they loved each other.  That made all the difference.”  Ah, God, the bitter difference that it made!

He went down the steps up which he had lifted her on that first day of her coming, and floundered into water that was half way to his knees.  The rain rushed down upon him, beating upon his uncovered head.  He was drenched to the skin in five seconds.

The lightning flashes were less frequent now, and the darkness in between less intense.  He splashed his way cautiously round the bungalow to the stable.

A frightened whinnying greeted him.  He heard the animals stamping in the sodden straw, but the water was not so deep here.  It scarcely covered their hocks.

He spoke reassuringly to them as he made his way to Diamond, Sylvia’s mount.  Diamond had always been a favourite with him since the day she had laid her face against his nose, refusing to doubt him.  By faith and love!  By faith and love!

He saddled the horse more by feeling than sight, and led him out.  The rain was still beating furiously down, but Diamond did not flinch with his master’s hand upon him.  He stood firm while Burke swung himself up.  Then, with the lightning still flashing athwart the gloom and the thunder rolling in broken echoes all around them, they went down the track past the kopje to find the hut on the sand.

CHAPTER XII

THE SACRIFICE

The sound of water, splashing, welling, overflowing, was everywhere.  It was difficult to keep the track, but Diamond trod warily.  He knew the veldt by heart.  Passing the kopje, the rush of the water was like the spouting of a thousand springs.  It gurgled and raced over its scarred sides.  The prickly pear bushes hung flattened over the rocks.  By the fitful gleam of the lightning Burke saw these things.  The storm was passing, though the rain still beat down mercilessly.  It would probably rain for many hours; but a faint vague light far down on the unseen horizon told of a rising moon.  It would not be completely dark again.

They splashed their way past the kopje, and immediately a loud roaring filled his ears.  As he had guessed the dry watercourse had become a foaming torrent.  Again a sharp anxiety assailed him.  He spoke to Diamond, and they turned off the track.