had burgled the fowl-house itself. In spite of Jock's 

 presence and reputation, this night robbing still con- 

 tinued, for while he slept peacefully in front of the 

 store, the robbers would do their work at the back. 

 Poor old fellow ! They were many and he was one ; 

 they prowled night and day, and he had to sleep 

 sometimes ; they were watchful and he was deaf ; so 

 he had no chance at all unless he saw or scented them. 



There were two small windows looking out on to 

 the yard, but no door in the back of the building ; 

 thus, in order to get into the yard, it was necessary 

 to go out of the front door and round the side of the 

 house. On many occasions Tom, roused by the 

 screaming of the fowls, had seized his gun and run 

 round to get a shot at the thieves ; but the time so 

 lost was enough for a kaffir dog, and the noise made 

 in opening the reed gate gave ample warning of his 

 coming. 



The result was that Tom generally had all his trouble 

 for nothing ; but it was not always so. Several times 

 he roused Jock as he ran out, and invariably got some 

 satisfaction out of what followed ; once Jock caught 

 one of the thieves struggling to force a way through 

 the fence and held on to the hind leg until Tom came 

 up with the gun ; on other occasions he had caught 

 them in the yard ; on others, again, he had run them 

 down in the bush and finished it off there without 

 help or hindrance. 



That was the kind of life to which Jock seemed to 

 have settled down. 



He was then in the very prime of life, and I still 



4 6 3 



