Under the fierce ordeal of war the Kaffir thrived. His limbs were free and straight, his step springy, his eyes far-seeing, his nostrils could sniff the taint in the air, his deep melodious voice could boom the war-cry or the message across the wide valleys. As a man of peace he looks squalid in his broken clothes; he moves stiffly in his boots; he sings hymns in a queer, high note, with great melancholy but little meaning; goes reeling home from dirty canteens, and is a hopelessly casual labourer. He is the victim of civilisation, of strange laws, and in the confusion of many counsellors his only hope is the goal which has been offered to the already civilised labourer of a more favoured race-- three acres and several cows, with a title of his own. There lies his salvation. If he could get his title to a plot of land sufficient for his wants, he may retain some of those characteristics which made conquerors of his warrior ancestors, if not he will go under in the struggle in a pair of uncomfortable boots, with a bottle of brandy in his hands, and strange oaths of civilised man on his lips. "Yes," said Abe; "the Kaffir can use two things better'n a white man, easy--his tongue and his stick. I seed a Kaffir onct get the better of a fencing master. "I were sitting in the schoolyard, away up in town, where a sergeant from the barracks were showing the big boys how to use a singlestick. There were a Kaffir, leaning his chin on the top of the gate, looking on, with no more life in his face than a chip of mahogany. "Bymby the sergeant he spotted the Kaffir, and he sed, sed he, `Now, you boys; I'll jes' show you what singlestick play is,' and he called to the Kaffir to come in. "Well, the black feller, he came in--very slow, pulling his blanket up to his chin, and looking like a young horse all ready to bolt in a minnit. The end of his long kerrie peeped out below his blanket, and the sergeant touched it with his ash stick, then stood on guard. "`You keep your eye on my wrist-play, boys,' sed the sergeant, swellin' out his chest till the brass buttons nearly popped off. `You keep your eye on me,' he sed, `and you'll see how I get over his guard every time.' "The Kaffir he jes' stood there, looking solum, and the sergeant poked him in the stomjack. "`Yinnie!' sed the Kaffir, backing off an' snappin' fire from his eyes. You see he didn't know what the sergeant were about, and though he wern't fool enough to strike a _rooibaaitje_ in the town, his dander got up at that poke. "`Do you want to fight this chap?' sed I. "`I want to show these boys what real wrist-play is,' sed the sergeant, making an under-cut with his stick; `and this Kaffir will do well as a block. Tell him to put up his kerrie.'