The blamed leopard was up in the loft; and had eaten the pigeon, feathers and all, but couldn't get out again!" "What happened?
Nothin'! I was that riled I didn't stop to think--fixed a bayonet on the old Martini the gov'ment supplies to settlers out of the depths of its wisdom an' generosity--climbed up by the same route the leopard took--invaded him--an' skewered him wi' the bayonet in the dark! I wouldn't do it again for a kingdom--but I won't buy more pigeons either!" "What do you raise on your farm, then--pigs ?" we asked.
"No, the leopards take pigs." "What then ?" "Well--as I was explainin' to that Greek Georges Coutlass at Nairobi--there's a way of farmin' out your cattle among the natives that beats keepin' 'em yourself.

The natives put 'em in the village pen o' nights; an' besides, they know about the business.
"All you need do is give 'em a heifer calf once in a while, and they're contented.

I keep a herd o' two hundred cows in a native village not far from my place.

The natural increase o' them will make me well-to-do some day." The day before we reached Brown's tiny homestead we heard a lot of shooting over the hill behind us.
"That'll be railway men takin' a day off after leopards," announced Brown with the air of a man who can not be mistaken.
Nevertheless, Fred and I went back to see, but could make out nothing.
We lay on the top of the hill and watched for two or three hours, but although we heard rifle firing repeatedly we did not once catch sight of smoke or men.

We marched into camp late that night with a feeling of foreboding that we could not explain but that troubled us both equally.
Once or twice in the night we heard firing again, as if somebody's camp not very far away was invaded by leopards, or perhaps lions.