heartened their heroic little band until the flour- 

 bags and biscuit-tins stood lower than the pile of 

 dead outside, and the Zulu host was beaten and Natal 

 saved that day. 



Jim had seen all that and Ulundi, the Day of 

 Despair ! And he knew the power of the Great 

 White Queen and the way that her people fight. 

 But peace was not for him or his kraal : better any 

 fight than no fight. He rallied to Usibepu in the fight 

 for leadership when his King, Ketshwayo, was gone, 

 and Jim's kraal had moved and moved too soon : they 

 were surrounded one night and massacred ; and Jim 

 fought his way out, wounded and alone. Without 

 kith or kin, cattle, king, or country, he fled to the 

 Transvaal to work for the first time in his life ! 



Waggon-boys as the drivers were called often 

 acquired a certain amount of reputation on the road 

 or in the locality where they worked; but it was, as 

 a rule, only a reputation as good or bad drivers. In 

 Jim's case it was different. He was a character and 

 had an individual reputation, which was exceptional 

 in a Kaffir. I had better say at once that not even his 

 best friend would claim that that reputation was a 

 good one. He was known as the best driver, the 

 strongest nigger, the hardest fighter, and the worst 

 drinker on the road. 



His real name was Makokela, but in accordance with 

 a common Zulu habit, it was usually abbreviated to 

 Makokel' ! Among a certain number of the white men 

 of the sort who never can get any name right he 

 was oddly enough known as McCorkindale. I called him 



J 95 



