Jock disliked kaffirs: so did Jim. To Jim there were three big divisions of the human race—white men, Zulus, and niggers. Zulu, old or young, was greeted by him as equal, friend and comrade; but the rest were trash, and he cherished a most particular contempt for the Shangaans and Chopis, as a lot who were just about good enough for what they did—that is, work in the mines. They could neither fight nor handle animals; and the sight of them stirred him to contempt and pricked¹ him to hostilities².  
It was not long before Jim discovered this bond of sympathy between him and Jock, and I am perfectly³ sure that the one bad habit which Jock was never cured of was due to deliberate encouragement from Jim on every possible opportunity. It would have been a matter of difficulty and patience in any case to teach Jock not to unnecessarily attack strange kaffirs. It was very important that he should have nothing to do with them, and should treat them with suspicion as possible enemies and keep them off the premises⁴. I was glad that he did it by his own choice and instinct; but this being so, it needed all the more intelligence and training to get him to understand just where to draw the line. Jim made it worse; he made the already difficult task practically impossible by egging Jock on; and what finally made it quite impossible was the extremely funny turn it took, which caused such general amusement that every one joined in the conspiracy⁵ and backed up Jock.
 
Every one knows how laughable it is to see a person dancing about like a mad dervish, with legs and arms going in all directions, dodging⁶ the rushes of a dog, especially if the spectator knows that the dog will not do any real harm and is more intent on scaring his victim, just for the fun of the thing, than on hunting him. Well, that is how it began.
 
As far as I know the first incident arose out of the intrusion of a strange kaffir at one of the outspans. Jock objected, and he was forcing a scared boy back step by step—doing the same feinting rushes that he practised with game—until the boy tripped over a camp stool and sat plump down on the three-legged pot of porridge cooking at the camp fire. I did not see it; for Jock was, as usual, quite silent—a feature which always had a most terrifying effect on his victims: it was a roar like a lion’s from Jim that roused me. Jock was standing⁷ off with his feet on the move forwards and backwards⁸, his head on one side and his face full of interest, as if he would dearly love another romp⁹ in; and the waggon¹⁰-boys were reeling and rolling about the grass, helpless with laughter.
 
A dog is just as quick as a child to find out when he can take liberties; he knows that laughter and serious disapproval¹¹ do not go together; and Jock with the backing of the boys thoroughly¹² enjoyed him-self. That was how it began; and by degrees it developed into the great practical joke. The curious thing to note was the way in which Jock entered into the spirit of the thing, and how he improved and varied¹³ his methods. It was never certain what he would do; sometimes it would be a wild romp, as it was that day; at other times he would stalk the intruder in the open, much as a pointer approaches his birds in the last strides, and with eyes fixed¹⁴ steadily¹⁵ and mouth tightly pursed-up, he would move straight at him with infinite slowness and deliberation until, the boy’s nerve failed, and he turned and ran. At other times again he trotted¹⁶ out as if he had seen nothing, and then stopped suddenly. If the boy came on, Jock waited; but if there was any sign of fear or hesitation¹⁷, he lowered his head, humped up his shoulders—as a stagey boxer¹⁸ does when he wants to appear ferocious¹⁹—and gave his head a kind of chuck forward, as if in the act of charging: this seldom failed to shake the intruder’s nerve, and as soon as he turned or backed, the romp began. Still another trick was to make a round in the bush and come up behind unobserved, and then make a furious dash with rumbly gurgly growls²⁰; the startled boy invariably dropped all he had, breaking into a series of fantastic capers²¹ and excited yells, to the huge delight of Jim and the others.
 
But these things were considered trifles: the piece that always ‘brought the house down’ was the Shangaan gang trick, which on one occasion nearly got us all into serious trouble. The natives going to or from the goldfields travel in gangs of from four or five to forty or fifty; they walk along in Indian-file, and even when going across the veld or walking on wide roads they wind along singly in the footsteps of the leader. What prompted the dog to start this new game I cannot imagine: certainly no one could have taught it to him; and as well as one could judge, he did it entirely²² ‘off his own bat,’ without anything to lead up to or suggest it.
 
One day a gang of about thirty of these Shangaans, each carrying his load of blankets, clothing, pots, billies and other valuables on his head, was coming along a footpath²³ beside the road some twenty yards away from the waggons²⁴. Jock strolled out and sat himself down in the middle of the path; it was the way he did it and his air, utterly²⁵ devoid²⁶ of hostile or even serious purpose, that attracted my attention without rousing any doubts. The leader of the gang, however, was suspicious and shied off wide into the veld; he passed in a semicircle round Jock, a good ten yards away, and came safely back to the path again, and the dog with his nose in the air merely eyed him with a look of humorous interest and mild curiosity. The second kaffir made the loop shorter, and the third shorter still, as they found their alarm and suspicions unjustified; and so on, as each came along, the loop was lessened²⁷ until they passed in safety almost brushing against Jock’s nose. And still he never budged—never moved—except, as each boy approached, to look up at his face and, slowly turning his head, follow him round with his eyes until he re-entered the path. There was something extremely funny in the mechanical regularity²⁸ with which his head swung round. It was so funny that not only the boys at the waggons noticed it and laughed; the unsuspecting Shangaans themselves shared the joke. When half a dozen had passed round in safety, comments followed by grunts²⁹ of agreement or laughter ran along the line, and then, as each fresh boy passed and Jock’s calm inspection³⁰ was repeated, a regular chorus of guffaws³² and remarks broke out. The long heavy bundles on their heads made turning round a slow process, so that, except for the first half-dozen, they were content to enjoy what they saw in front and to know by the laughter from behind that the joke had been repeated all down the line.
 
 
The last one walked calmly by; but as he did so there came one short muffled³³ bark, “Whoop!” from Jock as he sprang out and nipped the unsuspecting Shangaan behind. The boy let out a yell that made the whole gang jump and clutch wildly at their toppling bundles, and Jock raced along the footpath, leaping, gurgling and snapping behind each one he came near, scattering³⁴ them this way and that, in a romp of wild enjoyment³⁵. The shouts of the scared boys, the clatter³⁶ of the tins as their bundles toppled down, the scrambling³⁷ and scratching as they clawed the ground pretending to pick up stones or sticks to stop his rushes, and the ridiculous rout³⁸ of the thirty Shangaans in every direction, abandoning their baggage and fleeing from the little red enemy only just visible in the grass as he hunted and harried³⁹ them, were too much for my principles and far too much for my gravity. To be quite honest, I weakened badly, and from that day on preferred to look another way when Jock sallied out to inspect a gang of Shangaans. Between them, Jim and Jock had beaten me.
 
But the weakening brought its own punishment and the joke was not far from making a tragedy. Many times while lying some way off in the shade of a tree or under another waggon I heard Jim, all unconscious of my presence, call in a low deep voice, almost a whisper, “Jock, Jock; kaffirs; Shangaans!” Jock’s head was up in a moment, and a romp of some sort followed unless I intervened. Afterwards, when Jock was deaf, Jim used to reach out and pull his foot or throw a handful of sand or a bunch of grass to rouse him, and when Jock’s head switched up Jim’s big black fist pointing to their common enemy was quite enough.
 
Jim had his faults, but getting others into mischief⁴⁰ while keeping out of it himself was not one of them. If he egged Jock on, he was more than ready to stand by him, and on these occasions his first act was to jump for his sticks, which were always pretty handy, and lie in readiness to take a hand if any of the gang should use what he considered unfair means of defence, such as throwing stones and kerries or using assegais or knives; and Jim—the friend of Jock, the avoided enemy of all Shangaans, aching for an excuse to take a hand in the row himself—was not, I fear, a very impartial⁴¹ judge.
 
There was a day outside Barberton which I remember well. We were to start that evening, and knowing that if Jim got into the town he might not be back and fit to work for days, I made him stay with the waggons. He lay there flat out under his waggon with his chin resting on his arms, staring steadily at the glistening⁴² corrugated⁴³ iron roofs of the town, as morose⁴⁴ and unapproachable as a surly old watch-dog. From the tent of my waggon I saw him raise his head, and following his glance, picked out a row of bundles against the sky-line. Presently a long string of about fifty time-expired mine-boys came in sight. Jim on his hands and knees scrambled⁴⁵ over to where Jock lay asleep, and shook him; for this incident occurred after Jock had become deaf.
 
“Shangaans, Jock; Shangaans! Kill them; kill, kill, kill!” said Jim in gusty⁴⁶ ferocious whispers. It must have seemed as if Fate had kindly⁴⁷ provided an outlet⁴⁸ for the rebellious⁴⁹ rage and the craving⁵⁰ for a fight that were consuming him.
 
As Jock trotted out to head them off Jim reached up to the buck⁵¹-rails and pulled down his bundle of sticks and lay down like a tiger on the spring. I had had a lot of trouble with Jim that day, and this annoyed me; but my angry call to stop was unavailing. Jim, pretending not to understand, made no attempt to stop Jock, but contented⁵² himself with calling to him to come back; and Jock, stone deaf, trotted evenly along with his head, neck, back, and t............