sergeant he
gave every sack a heavy punch as it was dragged to the edge ready for
the Boers to shoulder and walk off into the magazine.

Seeing this, the Boer chief, now all smiles and good humour, made for
the next sack, untied the tarred string which was tied round the mouth,
opened it, and called to the sergeant to stand out of the light.

"I want the officers to see what beautiful corn it is," he said.

The sergeant reached up into the wagon-tilt to lift down the lantern
from where he had hung it to one of the tilt-bows.

"No, no," cried the Boer; "you needn't do that, boss. They can see.
There," he cried, thrusting in both hands and scooping as much as he
could grasp, and letting the glistening yellow grains fall trickling
back in a rivulet again and again. "See that? Hard as shot. Smell it.
Fresh. This year's harvest. I know where there's enough to feed four
or five thousand men."

"Yes, it looks good," said Dickenson, helping himself to a handful, and
putting a grain into his mouth. "Sweet as a nut, Drew, but as hard as
flint. Fine work for the teeth."

"Yes," said the Boer, grinning. "You English can't grind that up with
your teeth. Wait till it's boiled, though, or pounded up and made into
mealie. Ha! Make yours skins shine like the Kaffirs'."

"You don't want these sacks back, I suppose?" said the sergeant who was
superintending. "Because if you do I'd better have them emptied."

"Oh no, oh no," said the Boer. "Keep it as it is; it will be cleaner."

"Why are some of the sacks tied up with white string and some with
black?" said Lennox suddenly.

"Came from different farms," said the Boer, who overheard the remark.
"Here, I'll open that one; it's smaller corn."

He signed to one of his fellows to set down the sack he was about to
shoulder, and opening it, he went through the same performance again,
shovelling up the yellow grain with his hands. "Not quite so good as
the other sort," he said; "it's smaller, but it yields better in the
fields."

"Humph! I don't see much difference in it," said Lennox, taking up a
few grains and following his friend's example.

"No?" said the Boer, chuckling as he scooped up a double handful and
tossed it up, to shine like gold in the light. "You are not a farmer,
and have not grown thousands of sacks of it. I have."

He drew the mouth of the sack together again and tied it with its white
string, when it too was borne off through the open doorwa