74 Notes on South African Hunting, 
My “ papa ”—The artful nigger. 
salt they would have done as I told them to do, 
take the goats and eat them ; then we should 
have had peace. As it was, we tried to deal 
with everything we had dear to the eyes of a 
native ; till at last I actually offered my double 
Express and shot gun for the two goats. At 
this the miserable pigmy who appeared to hold 
authority, said he must wait for a gentleman 
whom he called my papa,’' who was then 
absent, before he could decide. This was, of 
course, out of the question, so we filled the 
calabashes and left. From this place we left 
off breakfast, such as it was. 
Next day Ayton and I started on, and had 
gone on a short way when we heard horses 
coming up behind us. We looked round, and 
saw what we expected; namely, some of our 
friends of the previous day who had come after 
us, as we thought, to try and make us pay for 
cutting the goats’ throats. We determined to 
let them begin the conversation. Up they 
came and rode alongside us without speaking 
for about a mile. Then we came to a track 
leading off the road. The natives then spoke, 
and said to us that that was our road. I asked 
