anger.

"Never mind, missie, never mind," gasped the Hottentot, his ugly face
growing livid with fury, "it is only one more to me. I cut it on this
stick"--and he held up a long thick stick he carried, on which were
several notches, including three deep ones at the top just below the
knob. "Let him look out sharp--let him search the grass--let him creep
round the bush--let him watch as he will, one day he will find Jantje,
and Jantje will find him!"

"Why did Frank Muller gallop away like that?" asked her uncle of Bessie
when she got back to the verandah.

"We had some words," she answered shortly, not seeing the use of
explaining matters to the old man.

"Ah, indeed, indeed. Well, be careful, my love. It's ill to quarrel with
a man like Frank Muller. I've known him for many years, and he has a
black heart when he is crossed. You see, my love, you can deal with a
Boer and you can deal with an Englishman, but cross-bred dogs are hard
to handle. Take my advice, and make it up with Frank Muller."

All of which sage advice did not tend to raise Bessie's spirits, that
were already sufficiently depressed.

CHAPTER V

DREAMS ARE FOOLISHNESS

When, at the approach of Frank Muller, John Niel left Bessie on the
verandah, he had taken his gun, and, having whistled to the pointer dog
Pontac, he mounted his shooting pony and started in quest of partridges.
On the warm slopes of the hills round Wakkerstroom a large species of
partridge is very abundant, particularly in the patches of red grass
with which the slopes are sometimes clothed. It is a merry sound to hear
these birds calling from all directions just after daybreak, and one to
make the heart of every true sportsman rejoice exceedingly. On leaving
the house John proceeded up the side of the hill behind it--his pony
picking its way carefully between the stones, and the dog Pontac ranging
about two or three hundred yards off, for in this sort of country it
is necessary to have a dog with a wide range. Presently seeing him
stop under a mimosa thorn and suddenly stiffen out as if he had been
petrified, John made the best of his way towards him. Pontac stood still
for a few seconds, and then slowly and deliberately veered his head
round as though it worked on a hinge to see if his master was coming.
John knew his ways. Three times would that remarkable old dog look round
thus, and if the gun had not then arrived he would to a certainty run
in and flush the birds. Thi