I thought he ought to be hanged, and asked the station-master if it could be arranged.

He said no; and not only that, but said it rudely; said it with a quite unnecessary show of feeling.

Then he muttered something about my being a jackass, and walked away and pointed me out to people, and did everything he could to turn public sentiment against me.

It is what one gets for trying to do good.
In the train that day a passenger told me some more about Boer life out in the lonely veldt.

He said the Boer gets up early and sets his "niggers" at their tasks (pasturing the cattle, and watching them); eats, smokes, drowses, sleeps; toward evening superintends the milking, etc.; eats, smokes, drowses; goes to bed at early candlelight in the fragrant clothes he (and she) have worn all day and every week-day for years.