s
from scarin' 'em to death, and spearin' of 'em, as is their nature to,
and I got speared myself in one or two little shootin' excursions I
had."

"Shooting the blacks?" interpolated Gordon.

"Somethin' like that, Mister. I did let off a rifle a few times, and I
dessay one or two poor, ignorant black feller-countrymen that had been
fun' my cattle as full of spears as so many hedgehogs--I dessay they got
in the road of a bullet or two. They're always gettin' in the road of
things. But we don't talk of shootin' blacks nowadays These parts is too
civilised--it's risky. Anyhow, I made them blacks let my cattle alone.
And I slaved like a driven nigger, day in and day out, brandin' calves
all day long in the dust, with the sun that hot, the brandin' iron 'ud
mark without puttin' it in the fire at all. And then down comes the
tick, and kills my cattle by the hundred, dyin' and perishin' all over
the place. And what lived through it I couldn't sell anywhere, because
they won't let tick-infested cattle go south, and the Dutch won't let us
ship 'em north to Java, the wretches! And then Mr. Grant's debt was over
everything; and at last I had to chuck it up. That's how I got broke,
Mister. I hope you'll have better luck."

While he was delivering this harangue, Carew had been taking notes of
the establishment. There was just a rough table, three boxes to sit on,
a meat safe, a few buckets, and a rough set of shelves, supporting a
dipper and a few tin plates, and tins of jam, while in the corner
stood some rifles and a double-barrelled gun. Saddlery of all sorts was
scattered about the floor promiscuously.

Certainly the owner of No Man's Land had not lived luxuriously. A low
galvanised-iron partition divided the house into two rooms, and through
the doorway could be seen a rough bunk made of bags stretched on
saplings.

As the old man finished speaking, Ah Loy brought in the evening
meal--about a dozen beautifully tender roast ducks in a large tin dish,
a tin plate full of light, delicately-browned cakes of the sort known
as "puftalooners," and a huge billy of tea. There were no vegetables;
pepper and salt were in plenty, and Worcester sauce. They ate silently,
as hungry men do, while the pigs and cattle-dogs marched in at the
open-door, and hustled each other for the scraps that were thrown to
them.

"How is it the pigs have no tails?" asked Carew.

"Bit off, Mister. The dogs bit them off. They've got the ears pretty
we