real fighting Zulu breed ; and the pride he took in 

 Jock, and the sort of partnership that he claimed in 

 tastes, disposition and exploits, began the day Jock 

 fought the table-leg and grew stronger and stronger 

 to the end. Jim became Jock's devoted champion, and 

 more than once, as will be seen, showed that he would 

 face man or beast to stand by him when he needed help. 

 This day when I returned to the waggons Jim was 

 sitting with the other drivers in the group round the 

 big pot of porridge. I saw him give one quick look 

 my way and heard him say sharply to the others, 

 " Where is the dog ? Where is Jock ? " He stood 

 there looking at me with a big wooden spoon full 

 of porridge stopped on the way to his mouth. In 

 a few minutes they all knew what had happened ; 

 the other boys took it calmly, saying composedly that 

 the dog would find his way back. But Jim was not 

 calm : it was not his nature. At one moment he 

 would agree with them, swamping them with a flood 

 of reasons why Jock, the best dog in the world, would 

 be sure to come back ; and the next hot with restless 

 excitement would picture all that the dog might have 

 been doing and all that he might still have to face, 

 and then break off to proclaim loudly that every one 

 ought to go out and hunt for him. Jim was not practical 

 or reasonable he was too excitable for that ; but he 

 was very loyal, and it was his way to show his feelings 

 by doing something generally and preferably by 

 fighting some one. Knowing only too well how useless 

 it would be to search for Jock, I lay down under the 

 waggon to rest and wait. 



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