50 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



cook-butler, was set to work to prepare a huge iron- 

 pot of venison stew from a fine blesbok. 



Our thirteen guests sat on the stoep smoking their 

 after-dinner pipes and " Bostanjoglos " and discussing the 

 prospects of sport on the morrow over a glass of Scotch 

 whisky, and Mervin and myself were placing " shake- 

 downs " in all sorts of nooks and corners, when Tom P , 



the jovial huntsman of the then recently imported pack 

 of English foxhounds, which was kennelled a few miles 

 distant, rode up to the bungalow with a couple of hounds. 

 "Good-evening, gentlemen; the master's compliments, 

 and he's sent old Amazon and Guardsman for you to try. 

 I doubt neither of 'em has ever seen an otter since they 

 were whelped, but they entered kindly enough to both 

 jackal and buck," said Tom before burying his nose in 

 a long " sleever " of "Bass." "I hope you will lend 

 us a hand to-morrow, Tom," said Jack, as he gave 

 the couple of hounds into the charge of the Basuto stable 

 lad with strict injunctions to kennel them in a loose box 

 away from the rest of the pack. 



" Well, sir, I've only been out with otterhounds once in 

 my life, and that was many years ago, but as it's an idle 

 day with me to-morrow, I shall be glad to hunt with you," 

 was Tom's reply, who, the night being warm and dry, 

 elected to make his couch on the stoep. 



At dawn every man was out of the blankets, and a general 

 rush was made for the little bathing-place which Mervin 

 had created by deepening a small willow-fringed spruit 

 or brook that ran at no great distance from the bungalow, 

 and which formed Jack's matutinal place of ablution in 

 fair weather and in foul. 



It was well that the larder of the bungalow was well 



