All the immediate world seemed doomed to nothingness.

Life promised only somewhere else, in the high hills and remote bush whither the tribe had already fled.

Loyal he was to his salt, to the master whom he had obeyed so long, nigger that he was, who so long had fed him, and for whom he had entertained a true affection.

But this master no longer was.
Retreat Jerry did, but he was not hasty in retreat.

For a time he snarled at every shell-scream in the air and every shell-burst in the bush.