That is how he knew that wolves or lions were about—and that they were dangerous—when he heard or scented them; although he had never seen, scented or heard one before to know what sort of animal it might be. This terrace was bounded on one side by the steep bank of the creek and walled in on the other side by the precipitous kranses of the mountains. The herd boys had seen spoor in the afternoon; at dusk we heard the distant roaring, and later on, the nearer and more ominous grunting. And all the time there came from him a torrent of excited gabble in pure Zulu, too fast and too high-flown for me to follow, which was punctuated and paragraphed by bursting allusions to ‘dogs of Shangaans,’ ‘axes,’ ‘sticks,’ and ‘Jock.’. I did not see the beginning of Jock’s encounter, but the boys’ stories pieced together told everything. She gave a low growl, and her little eyes turned on me for just one look as she got up and walked away. But then came an extremely unpleasant spell. Much greater and real cruelty I have seen done by work and punishment; but it was due to ignorance, impatience, or—on rare occasions—uncontrollable temper; it did not look deliberate and wanton. In Jim’s case it was different. I climbed it in dead silence, peering down into the reeds and expecting every moment to see the duiker. It was the quickest thing imaginable in a big animal: it looked as though he started racing from his lying position. When night closed in the Boy walked on in front, and the man lagged wearily, grumbling at their luck. In 1907 his most popular work, Jock of the Bushveld, largely based on his experience in the Eastern Transvaal, was published. Jim pressed me downwards and we all squatted again. Fair warning: This book may be about a dog, but it's more about hunting with him than anything else. Jock of the Bushveld. For there, with Africa’s contrariness, the highest parts banked up and buttressed by gigantic spurs are most accessible from below, while the lower edges of the plateau are cut off sheer like the walls of some great fortress. The secret of it seems to lie in two things: first, absolute stillness; and second, breaking up the colour. But there was no time for wonderings. The poor little chap could not see a yard in that grass; and in any case he was not old enough to see much, or understand anything, for his eyes still had that bluish blind look that all very young puppies have, but he was marching along as full of confidence as a general at the head of his army. A great old story, with beautiful African scenery and although this is an old film, it is still credible by today's filming standards. But we drank it. He taught them manners, but they taught him something too—at any rate, one of them did; and one of the biggest surprises and best lessons Jock ever had was given him by a hen while he was still a growing-up puppy. Presently I heard voices in the next hut and wondered who the visitors were—too lazily content to get up and see; then a cold nose was poked against my cheek and I looked round to see Jess’s little eyes and flickering ears within a few inches of my face. Up the winding pathway over rocky ledge and grassy slope, climbing for an hour to the pass, the toil and effort kept the hot thoughts under. He was buried under a big fig tree where another and more honoured grave was made later on. For weeks the storm-clouds had gathered, threatened, and dispersed; thunder had come half-heartedly, little spots of rain enough to pock-mark the dust; but there had been no break in the drought. It was silly to hope for one; for even if it had been heard they would only have thought that I was shooting at something. When it came to crossing the Crocodile River we chose the widest spot in the hope that it would be shallow and free of rocks. Billy’s pup was big and strong, and he was not a coward; but Jock was worrying his ear vigorously, and he could not find anything to bite in return. Not one stood still. Jim watched, but said nothing: with a single grunt and a shrug of his shoulders he stalked back to the waggons. Jock is such a beautiful place to stay at. It was an unexpected and puzzling end; and, in a way, not a welcome one, as it meant delay in getting back. To see Buggins slide off the ant-heap and shuffle shamefacedly back to the waggon before a gallery of four white men and a lot of kaffirs, all cracking and crying with laughter, was a sight never to be forgotten. The attempt to adapt the original letters to the symmetry of a connected story involved, as one might have known, endless trouble and changes, necessitating complete re-writing of most parts; and the responsibility and work became still greater when, after a casual and unforeseen meeting, my friend Mr Caldwell accepted the suggestion to come out to South Africa and spend six months with us in order to study the game in its native bush and to know the conditions of the life and put that experience into the work of illustrating “Jock.”, The writer is well aware that, from the above causes and one other, there are grave inequalities in style and system, and in plane of phrase and thought, in different parts of the book. It seemed to us—even to us, and at the moment—like a scene in fairyland in which some spell held us while the beautiful wild thing strolled about unfrightened. In addition to the flogging Seedling had, in accordance with his practice, imposed fines far beyond the boy’s means in cash, so as to provide an excuse for seizing what he wanted. REIM (pronounced reem) (d), a stout strip of raw hide. Knowing only too well how useless it would be to search for Jock, I lay down under the waggon to rest and wait. He wanted no sleep that night: he sat on, waiting for the morning trek, staring into the red coals, and thinking of the bygone glories of his race in the days of the mighty Chaka. Set in the Bushveld near what is today the world famous Kruger National Park, this animated family tale is about Jock's adventures with Fritz, his master. Where warning and punishment availed nothing threats would have been worse than foolish. 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