just like human beings. I can remember some of 

 them now far better than many of the men known 

 then and since : Achmoed and Bakir, the big after- 

 oxen who carried the disselboom contentedly 

 through the trek and were spared all other 

 work to save them for emergencies ; who, at a word, 

 heaved together their great backs bent like bows 

 and their giant strength thrown in to hoist the waggon 

 from the deepest hole and up the steepest hill ; who 

 were the stand-by in the worst descents, lying back 

 on their haunches to hold the waggon up when brakes 

 could do no more ; and inseparables always even when 

 outspanned the two old comrades walked together. 

 There was little Zole, contented, sociable and short 

 of wind, looking like a fat boy on a hot day, always 

 in distress. There was Bantom, the big red ox with 

 the white band, lazy and selfish, with an enduring 

 evil obstinacy that was simply incredible. There was 

 Rooiland, the light red, with yellow eyeballs and 

 topped horns, a fierce, wild, unapproachable, unappeas- 

 able creature, restless and impatient, always straining 

 to start, always moaning fretfully when delayed, 

 nervous as a young thoroughbred, aloof and unfriendly 

 to man and beast, ever ready to stab or kick even those 

 who handled him daily, wild as a buck, but untouched 

 by whip and uncalled by name ; who would work 

 with a straining, tearing impatience that there was no 

 checking, ever ready to outpace the rest, and at the 

 outspan standing out alone, hollow flanked and pant- 

 ing, eyes and nostrils wide with fierceness and distress, 

 yet always ready to start again a miracle of intense 

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