Abe smiled sadly, let go his hold of the goat, pinched his ear, and then the great rout of the Poison Club began. The goat walked briskly up to the dog, reared up, brought his head down, and sent the mongrel smash under the table, where he remained whimpering; then in a brace, at a whistle from his master, the unnatural billy cleared the shed with the effectiveness of a battering ram. At the outset the strong man of the country tried to seize him by the horns, but he evaded the grasp and shot his massive enemy over a form; and when the others fled, he butted them from behind so that each man flew out headlong, helping to swell the struggling pile at the doorway. After this feat he amused himself by reducing the table and chairs to splinters, then he came to the door and stood scratching his ear with his left hind foot, while chewing the remains of the minute book. "Fetch me a gun," yelled Si Amos, with his hand pressed to his waistcoat. "What will you take for that thunderstorm, Abe?" asked Mr Hockey, tenderly feeling his elbow. "You don't want to buy him so's you can shoot him?" "No; I want him as a watch dog." "Well, seeing's how it's you, you can have him for a pair of blankets and a bag of meal." "It's a swap, Abe. What do you call him?" "I calls him `Peaceful William.' I s'pose the club admits it's lost the bet; 'cos, if not, William will purceed to further business." "The bet's yours, Abe. Take the money, for Heaven's sake!" "All right, then; I'll kraal the goat for you." The goat was penned up, and Abe loaded his meal on to his horse and went off. The club watched the old man out of sight, each member absently rubbing himself, and all of them remarkably silent. "Oh!--'ell," said someone, in a tone of unmistakable dismay. We all, as one man, faced round to the kraal, and then we simultaneously skurried up to the barn roof. From this position of safety we saw Peaceful William, in a shower of dust, carefully demolish the walls of the pen and the poles that supported the thatched roof, and we fearfully gazed down upon him as he walked steadily round and round the barn, stopping at intervals to rear against the wall, to eye us threateningly. I don't know when he left, but he was not there next morning, when, at the break of day, Abe's voice greeted us. "I thought I'd tell you Peaceful Billy is at my place; and he's there when you care to fetch him. Fine sunrise, ain't it? Nice place to see it from. Nature's better than pizen if you take her early." There was a strange gurgling sound of suppressed laughter. "I say!" It was Abe again. "Well?" "Goat fat 's mighty good for bruises! So long!" "Darn you and your goat!" growled the chairman. "Boys, I vote we descend to business." We descended, and while we ate our breakfast the women of the house giggled till they almost choked. CHAPTER THIRTY. A KAFFIR'S PLAY.