"The gun was on the wall over my bed. Don't you mind the gun. Well, it was that dry the pumpkins withered up where they lay on the hard ground--an' one day there was nought in the larder, not so much as a smell. There was no breakfast for ole Abe Pike, nor dinner nor yet tea, an' the next morning 'twas the same story o' emptiness. I took down the old gun from the wall an' cleaned her up. There was one full charge o' powder in the horn, an' one bullet in the bag. All that morning I considered whether 'twould be wiser to divide that charge inter three, or to pour the whole lot of it in't once. When dinner-time came an' there was no dinner, I solumnly poured the whole bang of it inter the barrel, an' listened to the music of the black grains as they rattled on their way down to their last dooty. I cut a good thick wad from a buck-hide and rammed it down, `Plunk, plenk, plank, plonk, ploonk,' until the rod jumped clean out o' the muzzle. Then I polished up that lone bullet, wrapped him round in a piece o' oil rag, an' sent him down gently. `Squish, squish, squash, squoosh.' I put the cap on the nipple, an' sent him home with the pressure o' the hammer. Then I took a look over the country to 'cide on a plan o' campaign. What I wanted was a big ram with meat on him ter last for a month, if 'twas made inter biltong. There was one down by the hoek, but it warnt full grown. He was nearest, but there was one I'd seen over yonder off by the river, beyond the kloof, an' I reckoned 'twas worth while going a couple o' mile extra to get him." "You were sure of him?" "He was as good as dead when I shouldered the gun an' stepped off out on that wilderness o' burnt land. The wind came like a breath from a furnace, an' the hair on my head split an' curled up under the heat. Whenever I came across a rock with a breadth of shade I sot there to cool off, panting like a fowl, an' also to cool off the gun for fear 'twould explode. By reason o' this resting the dark came down when I reached the ridge above the river, an' I jest camped where it found me, after digging up some _insange_ root to chew. The fast had been with me for two days, an' the gnawing pain inside was terrible, so that I kept awake looking up at the stars an' listening to the plovers." "It must have been lonesome!"