it was something of an occasion, for, as he stood before 

 me looking down the road at the receding waggons 

 and the dancing figure of Jim, his ears were cocked, 

 his head was tilted a little sideways, and his tail stirred 

 gently. It was at least a friendly nod in return ! 



A couple of weeks later I heard from my friend : 

 "You will be interested to hear that that lunatic of 

 yours reached his kraal all right ; but that's not his 

 fault. He is a holy terror. I have never known such 

 a restless animal : he is like a change in the weather 

 you seem to feel him everywhere, upsetting every- 

 thing and every one the whole time. I suppose you 

 hammered him into his place and kept him there ; 

 but I wouldn't have him at a gift. It is not that 

 there was anything really wrong ; only there was no 

 rest, no peace. 



" But he's a gay fighter ! That was a treat : I never 

 laughed so much in my life. Below the Devil's 

 Kantoor we met a lot of waggons from Lydenburg, 

 and he had a row with one of the drivers, a lanky 

 nigger with dandy-patched clothes. The boy wouldn't 

 fight just yelled blue murder while Jim walloped 

 him. I heard the yells and the whacks, like the 

 beating of carpets, and there was Jim laying it on all 

 over him legs, head, back, and arms with a sort of 

 ferocious satisfaction, every whack being accompanied 

 by a husky suppressed shout : * Fight, Shangaan ! 

 Fight ! " But the other fellow was not on for fighting ; 

 he floundered about, yelled for mercy and help, and 

 tried to run away ; but Jim simply played round him 

 one spring put him alongside each time. I felt 



450 



