A dark object fell out of the branch, and when we reached it we found it a baviaan[1] sure enough, shot through the head.

'Which side are you on in the next war ?' the old man asked me, and, laughing, I told him 'Yours.' After supper, the ingredients of which came largely from my naachtmaal, we sat smoking and talking round the fire, the women and children being snug in the covered wagons.

The Boers were honest companionable fellows, and when I had made a bowl of toddy in the Scotch fashion to keep out the evening chill, we all became excellent friends.

They asked me how I got on with Japp.

Old Coetzee saved me the trouble of answering, for he broke in with Skellum! Skellum![2] I asked him his objection to the storekeeper, but he would say nothing beyond that he was too thick with the natives.