jingled audibly, yet
we never felt the slightest uneasiness. In those days it was a common
practice for traders to send large sums of money by native runners from
the heart of Kaffirland, yet I do not think there is a single instance
of such a trust having been betrayed.

When I reached King William's Town it was quite evident that our sheep
were not flourishing. They were, in fact, dwindling daily. Something
had to be done, so my father hired a farm about ten miles away, in the
direction of Kabousie. I volunteered my services as caretaker of the
flock, and to my intense gratification this offer was accepted. The
farm had no homestead, so I was given an old bell-tent, purchased at a
military rummage sale, to live in.

My assistant was a Kaffir lad named Toby, whose memory is kept green,
so far as I am concerned, by his enormous lips. These resembled
sausages strung across his face literally from ear to ear. I now
considered myself to be a full-fledged farmer. An old sheep kraal was
put into a state of repair. Toby and I built a wattle hut, and a
shelter for the pony. The hut was so small that Toby, had to lie curled
up in it; if he stretched himself, either head or heels had to be out
in the cold.

After the novelty had worn off, the monotony of my life became
appalling. There were no neighbors with whom to foregather; there was
no game to shoot; the surrounding country was uninteresting to a
degree. Far away, just peeping over the rim of the horizon, were the
peaks of the Amatole and Kabousie Ranges regions of enchantment,
cliff-crowned and forest-clothed towards which my soul vainly sighed.
But an accident quickly brought this chapter of my life to a tragic
close. One very, windy day I went out with the sheep, leaving Toby at
the camp to cook the dinner. The blasts were so strong that it was
impracticable to light a fire in the open. Toby, suggested lighting
one in the tent, and to this I unwisely consented, warning him,
however, to be very careful lest our dwelling should catch alight.

On my way home, a couple of hours later, I could not see either the
tent or the hut. The country was level and quite bare, so the tent had
always been a conspicuous landmark from any, spot within a mile or so.
For a time I thought I must have lost my way. But no; there was the
kraal. I came to the conclusion that the tent had been blown down. When
I reached the spot all I found was two circles of ashes. The tent and
the hut had