voice kept repeating at intervals of a minute or two 

 with deadly monotony and persistency. 



The white man's voice grew more impatient, 

 louder, and angrier, with each refusal ; but the boy 

 paid no heed. A few minutes later the same request 

 would be made, supplemented now and then with, 

 " I am hungry, Baas, I can't sleep. Meat ! Meat ! 

 Meat ! " ; or, " Porridge and bread are for women and 

 picaninnies. I am a man : I want meat, Baas, meat." 

 From the white man it was, " Go to sleep, I tell you ! " 

 " Be quiet, will you f " " Shut up that row ! " 

 " Be still, you drunken brute, or I'll tie you up ! " and 

 " You'll get twenty-five in a minute ! " 



It may have lasted half an hour when one of our 

 party said, " That's Bob's old driver, the big Zulu. 

 There'll be a row to-night ; he's with a foreigner 

 chap from Natal now. New chums are always roughest 

 on the niggers." 



In a flash I remembered Bob Saunderson's story of 

 the boy who had caught the lion alive, and Bob's own 

 words, " a real fine nigger, but a terror to drink, and 

 always in trouble. He fairly wore me right out." 



A few minutes later there was a short scuffle, and 

 the boy's voice could be heard protesting in the same 

 deep low tone : they were tying him up to the waggon- 

 wheel for a flogging. Others were helping the white 

 man, but the boy was not resisting. 



At the second thin whistling stroke some one said, 



' That's a sjambok he's using, not a nek-strop ! ' : 



Sjambok, that will cut a bullock's hide ! At about the 



eighth there was a wrench that made the waggon rattle, 



and the deep voice was raised in protest, " Ow, Inkos ! " 



198 



