After Piet’s cup had been replenished by getting a portion from each of the other cups, he thought, ‘Now I shall be able to finish my meal,’ when he received the command, ‘Jump up, Piet.’ He jumped up as ordered, dropping both cup and food this time. He stood looking comically and disgustedly at his nice venison steak lying in the ashes, while the others were splitting their sides with laughing. Steve, of course, laughed as much as anyone else, and more so--it _was_ so foolish to throw your food away like that. After once more sharing food and drink with the others, he was allowed to finish his meal. After dinner, some Kaffir women came to the camp to sell _stamp mealies_ (shelled maize). Some were bought and Piet was requested to pay. He took out his purse, opened it, and took out a shilling to pay the girl, when ‘Give her the purse,’ came the order. ‘_De, de_’ (here, here), cried poor Piet, forcing the purse full of silver into the hands of the astonished black lady. He was allowed to take back his purse, put it in his pocket, when once more came the order,-- ‘Shake hands with her.’ He seized the black girl’s hand and shook it heartily, only to drop it in disgust, and call for soap, muttering something about, ‘This is too much, shaking hands with the dirty, greasy thing; soap will hardly wash the stinking grease off my hand again.’ The others were lying on their backs shaking with laughter, and holding their sides. The black woman had never been so astonished. Never had a white man offered to shake hands with her before. ‘Take off your hat to the lady,’ once more heard Piet. He took off his hat and made a profound bow to the staring sable woman. The next moment he took off his hat again and tramped upon it, as if the hat was to be blamed for being lifted in greeting to a nigger. He was allowed to take a breath now, as the others felt it would be fatal for them to laugh any more. Steve felt as if his cheeks would never take their normal position again; they had been stretched out of position so much from laughing. Presently the oxen came in to be kraaled for the night. _Speelman_--an old Hottentot--the herder, came up to the fire to be rationed. Steve and his party had not seen Speelman before, as he had been in the veld all day herding the cattle. He was a short, pot-bellied old sinner, with a round bullet head, and a face, all wrinkles, which seemed as if made of elastic when he drew it into his broad, hypocritical smile, as he came towards Baas Piet and asked for some _baccy_. Piet took out his _span_ of tobacco, cut off a few inches, and handed it to Speelman, when one of his friends named Daniel shouted _slang_ (snake). Speelman bounded into the air, and made Piet _schrik_ too as he came down again, and catching hold of Piet round the body, hung there, kicking and howling. ‘Help, baas, help, _slang, slang_.’ And as he hung and kicked, Piet struggled and shouted, the one seemed as excited and frightened as the other.