"That fetched him," he was thinking to himself. "He's funking now. He's probably got another girl out here, and he's afraid I'll blab about the white feather business. All right, my good friend Lamont. I've got you under my thumb, as I intended, and you'll have to put me in the way of something good--or--that little story will come in handy. It'll bear some touching up, too." "I was speaking in your own interest, Ancram," went on Lamont. "Anyone can see with half an eye that you're not in the least cut out for life in this country, and you'd only be throwing away your time and money." "Wish I'd got some to throw. I thought perhaps I might stop and do a little farming with you." "But farming needs some capital. You can't do it on nothing. It's a losing game even then, especially now that rinderpest is clearing us all out. Don't you know any people in Buluwayo who could put you into the way of getting some job under Government, or in the mining department or something?" "Not a soul. Wish I did. But, I say, Lamont, why are you so jolly certain I'm no good for this country? I haven't had a show yet." "Oh, I can see. For one thing, if you start pounding the niggers about, like you did Zingela yesterday, you'll get an assegai through you." It came to him as an inspiration, in pursuance of their plan of the previous day. And Ancram was green. "No! Are they such revengeful devils as all that?" "Well, they don't like being bashed, any more than other people. And--a savage is always a savage." "By Jove! What d'you think, Lamont? Supposing I gave this chap something? Would that make it all right? Eh?" "Then he'd think you were afraid of him." And to Lamont, who knew that the gift of a piece of tobacco and a sixpence would cause honest Zingela positively to beam upon his assailant of yesterday, the situation was too funny. But he wanted to get rid of the other, and the opportunity seemed too good to be lost. The scare had begun. "You have got a jolly place here, Lamont, and you don't seem overworked either, by Jove!" went on Ancram, with more than a dash of envy in his tone, as he gazed forth over the sunlit landscape, dotted with patches of bush, stretching away to the dark line of forest beyond, for the two men were seated in front of the house, beneath the extension of the roof which formed a rough verandah. "Yes. You were talking of Courtland--well, I'm nearly as big a landowner here as the old Squire. Funny, isn't it? As for being overworked, that comes by fits and starts. Just now there's nothing much to do but shoot and bury your infected cattle, and watch the remainder die of drought." "Phew! I can't think how you fellows can smoke such stuff as that," said Ancram disgustedly, as the other started a fresh pipe of Magaliesburg. "The very whiff of it is enough to make one sick."