for it left him plenty of leisure to sit indoors and drink. But
soon he grew suspicious, for he must have seen that I was in a

fair way to oust him altogether. He was very anxious to know
if I had seen Colles in Durban, and what the manager had

said. 'I have letters,' he told me a hundred times, 'from Mr
Mackenzie himself praising me up to the skies. The firm

couldn't get along without old Peter Japp, I can tell you.' I
had no wish to quarrel with the old man, so I listened politely

to all he said. But this did not propitiate him, and I soon found
him so jealous as to be a nuisance. He was Colonial-born and

was always airing the fact. He rejoiced in my rawness, and
when I made a blunder would crow over it for hours. 'It's no

good, Mr Crawfurd; you new chums from England may think
yourselves mighty clever, but we men from the Old Colony

can get ahead of you every time. In fifty years you'll maybe
learn a little about the country, but we know all about it before

we start.' He roared with laughter at my way of tying a
voorslag, and he made merry (no doubt with reason) on my

management of a horse. I kept my temper pretty well, but I
own there were moments when I came near to kicking Mr Japp.

The truth is he was a disgusting old ruffian. His character
was shown by his treatment of Zeeta. The poor child slaved all

day and did two men's work in keeping the household going.
She was an orphan from a mission station, and in Japp's

opinion a creature without rights. Hence he never spoke to her
except with a curse, and used to cuff her thin shoulders till my

blood boiled. One day things became too much for my temper.
Zeeta had spilled half a glass of Japp's whisky while tidying up

the room. He picked up a sjambok, and proceeded to beat her
unmercifully till her cries brought me on the scene. I tore the

whip from his hands, seized him by the scruff and flung him
on a heap of potato sacks, where he lay pouring out abuse and

shaking with rage. Then I spoke my mind. I told him that if
anything of the sort happened again I would report it at once

to Mr Colles at Durban. I added that before making my report
I would beat him within an inch of his degraded life. After a

time he apologized, but I could see that thenceforth he
regarded me with deadly hatred.

There was another thing I noticed about Mr Japp. He might
brag about his knowledge of how to deal with natives, but to

my mind his methods were a disgrace to a white man. Zeeta
came in for oaths and blows, but there were other Kaffirs

whom he treated with a sort of cringing friendliness. A big
black fellow would swagger into the shop, and be received by

Japp as if he were his long-lost brother. The two would
collogue for hours; and though at first I did not understand

the tongue, I could see that it was the white man who fawned
and the black man who bullied. Once when japp was away one

of these fellows came into the store as if it belonged to him,
but he went out quicker than he entered. Japp complained

afterwards of my behaviour. ''Mwanga is a good friend of
mine,' he said, 'and brings us a lot of business. I'll thank you

to be civil to him the next time.' I replied very shortly that
'Mwanga or anybody else who did not mend his manners

would feel the weight of my boot.
The thing went on, and I am not sure that he did not give

the Kaffirs drink on the sly. At any rate, I have seen some very
drunk natives on the road between the locations and

Blaauwildebeestefontein, and some of them I recognized as Japp's
friends. I discussed the matter with Mr Wardlaw, who said, 'I

believe the old villain has got some sort of black secret, and the
natives know it, and have got a pull on him.' And I was

inclined to think he was right.
By-and-by I began to feel the lack of company, for Wardlaw

was so full of his books that he was of little use as a companion.
So I resolved to acquire a dog, and bought one from a

prospector, who was stony-broke and would have sold his soul
for a drink. It was an enormous Boer hunting-dog, a mongrel

in whose blood ran mastiff and bulldog and foxhound, and
Heaven knows what beside. In colour it was a kind of brindled

red, and the hair on its back grew against the lie of the rest of
its coat. Some one had told me, or I may have read it, that a

back like this meant that a dog would face anything mortal,
even to a charging lion, and it was this feature which first

caught my fancy. The price I paid was ten shillings and a pair
of boots, which I got at cost price from stock, and the owner

departed with injunctions to me to beware of the brute's
temper. Colin - for so I named him - began his career with

me by taking the seat out of my breeches and frightening Mr
Wardlaw into a tree. It took me a stubborn battle of a fortnight

to break his vice, and my left arm to-day bears witness to the
struggle. After that he became a second shadow, and woe

betide the man who had dared to raise his hand to Colin's
master. Japp declared that the dog was a devil, and Colin

repaid the compliment with a hearty dislike.
With Colin, I now took to spending some of my ample

leisure in exploring the fastnesses of the Berg. I had brought
out a shot-gun of my own, and I borrowed a cheap Mauser

sporting rifle from the store. I had been born with a good eye
and a steady hand, and very soon I became a fair shot with a

gun and, I believe, a really fine shot with the rifle. The sides
of the Berg were full of quail and partridge and bush pheasant,

and on the grassyplateau there was abundance of a bird not
unlike our own blackcock, which the Dutch called korhaan.

But the great sport was to stalk bush-buck in the thickets,
which is a game in which the hunter is at small advantage. I

have been knocked down by a wounded bush-buck ram, and
but for Colin might have been badly damaged. Once, in a kloof

not far from the Letaba, I killed a fine leopard, bringing him
down with a single shot from a rocky shelf almost on the top

of Colin. His skin lies by my fireside as I write this tale. But it
was during the days I could spare for an expedition into the

plains that I proved the great qualities of my dog. There we
had nobler game to follow - wildebeest and hartebeest, impala,

and now and then a koodoo. At first I was a complete duffer,
and shamed myself in Colin's eyes. But by-and-by I learned

something of veld-craft: I learned how to follow spoor, how to
allow for the wind, and stalk under cover. Then, when a shot

had crippled the beast, Colin was on its track like a flash to
pull it down. The dog had the nose of a retriever, the speed of

a greyhound, and the strength of a bull-terrier. I blessed the
day when the wandering prospector had passed the store.

Colin slept at night at the foot of my bed, and it was he who
led me to make an important discovery. For I now became

aware that I was being subjected to constant espionage. It may
have been going on from the start, but it was not till my third

month at Blaauwildebeestefontein that I found it out. One
night I was going to bed, when suddenly the bristles rose on

the dog's back and he barked uneasily at the window. I had
been standing in the shadow, and as I stepped to the window

to look out I saw a black face disappear below the palisade of
the backyard. The incident was trifling, but it put me on my

guard. The next night I looked, but saw nothing. The third
night I looked, and caught a glimpse of a face almost pressed

to the pane. Thereafter I put up the shutters after dark, and
shifted my bed to a part of the room out of line with the window.

It was the same out of doors. I would suddenly be conscious,
as I walked on the road, that I was being watched. If I made

as if to walk into the roadside bush there would be a faint
rustling, which told that the watcher had retired. The stalking