s he
approached. He stood nervously switching a sjambok in his right hand,
while he stormed in Dutch at three of his unfortunate people, or rather
slaves. One was a sturdy Hottentot named Ruyter, one a Malay named
Abdul Jemalee, both of whom had travelled with Considine on the up
journey. The third was the Bushman whom he had encountered when lost on
the karroo, and who, owing to his inveterate stupidity, had been named
Booby.

They had all been implicated in the recent loss of cattle suffered by
their savage master, who had already flogged the Bushman with the
sjambok and was furiously interrogating the Hottentot. At last he gave
him a tremendous cut across the shoulders, which immediately raised a
dark red bar thereon.

Ruyter's black eyes flashed. He did not wince, but drew himself quickly
up like a man about to retaliate. Jan Smit observing and resenting the
action, at once knocked him down.

Ruyter slowly rose and staggered away just as Considine came up. The
youth could not resist the inclination to exclaim "Shame!"

"Who dares--" cried Jan Smit, turning fiercely round. He paused in mute
surprise at sight of his former companion.

"_I_ dare!" said Considine sternly; "many a time the word has been on my
lips before, and now that it has passed them it may go. I came not
here, however, to bully, or be bullied, but to pay my debt to you."

He drew out a leathern purse as he spoke, and the Dutchman, whose spirit
was quelled both by the manner and the matter of his visitor's remark,
led the way to his domicile.

The house resembled that of Conrad Marais in form, but in nothing else.
Everything in and around it was dirty and more or less dilapidated.
There was no dam, no garden,--nothing, in short, but the miserable
dwelling and a few surrounding huts, with the cattle kraal.

Having paid his debt, Considine did not vouchsafe another word, but
returned at once to the waggons. On the way he overtook Ruyter.

"My poor fellow," he said, "have you no means of redress? Can you not
complain to some one--some magistrate?"

"Complain!" exclaimed the Hottentot fiercely, "what de use of complain?
No one care. Nobody listen--boh! no use complain."

The man had learnt a smattering of English. He was a short but very
powerful fellow, and with a more intellectual head and countenance than
is common to his race.

"Where are you going just now, Ruyter?" asked Considine, feeling that it
was best to change the s