ut and talking to themselves on this farm now," said
Bonaparte; "no more minding of sheep and reading of books at the same
time. The point of a horsewhip is a little thing, but I think he'll
have a taste of it before long." Bonaparte rubbed his hands and looked
pleasantly across his nose; and then the three laughed together grimly.

And Waldo in his cabin crouched in the dark in a corner, with his knees
drawn up to his chin.

Chapter 1.X. He Shows His Teeth.

Doss sat among the karoo bushes, one yellow ear drawn over his wicked
little eye, ready to flap away any adventurous fly that might settle on
his nose. Around him in the morning sunlight fed the sheep; behind him
lay his master polishing his machine. He found much comfort in handling
it that morning. A dozen philosophical essays, or angelically atuned
songs for the consolation of the bereaved, could never have been to him
what that little sheep-shearing machine was that day.

After struggling to see the unseeable, growing drunk with the endeavour
to span the infinite, and writhing before the inscrutable mystery, it
is a renovating relief to turn to some simple, feelable, weighable
substance; to something which has a smell and a colour, which may be
handled and turned over this way and that. Whether there be or be not
a hereafter, whether there be any use in calling aloud to the Unseen
power, whether there be an Unseen power to call to, whatever be the true
nature of the "I" who call and of the objects around me, whatever be
our meaning, our internal essence, our cause (and in a certain order of
minds death and the agony of loss inevitably awaken the wild desire,
at other times smothered, to look into these things), whatever be the
nature of that which lies beyond the unbroken wall which the limits of
the human intellect build up on every hand, this thing is certain--a
knife will cut wood, and one cogged wheel will turn another. This is
sure.

Waldo found an immeasurable satisfaction in the handling of his machine;
but Doss winked and blinked, and thought it all frightfully monotonous
out there on the flat, and presently dropped asleep, sitting bolt
upright. Suddenly his eyes opened wide; something was coming from the
direction of the homestead. Winking his eyes and looking intently, he
perceived it was the grey mare. Now Doss had wondered much of late what
had become of her master. Seeing she carried some one on her back, he
now came to his own conclusion,