I jes' managed to reach the first bough when, ker-blunk, he came up ag'inst it an' nearly shook me off. By gum! the way that bull went on was a caution. He let off steam through his nose, stamped his feet, dug his tusk in the ground, twisted his little tail, and butted that tree till its roots heaved up the ground. In his walk he wore down a circle as big as a cattle kraal, smashin' all the trees down, and trampling the leaves and branches and trunks inter a mass. And every now and then he'd wheel round and come smash ag'inst my tree till he started the wound in his forehead where my bullet struck, an' the blood poured down his face. I never seed such wickedness an' temper, never, and I crawled up to the top branch, for the sight of him made me queer. All through that Sunday afternoon he kep' up that smash-jamble, an' in the night he fetched up some water outer his stummick an' washed his face; then, with that diamon' shinin' red outer the dark, he stood there, still as a rock, keeping guard. That night I went empty in my head, an' got back my senses in starts when I were slippin'. In the mornin' I jest gave him my trousers. "It was a inspiration, that's what. A flash came inter my brain from the blue sky, an' I gave him my trousers. Lor', the scream he gave when he fell on 'em, trampled 'em, knelt on 'em, jabbed his tusk inter 'em, and then danced 'em outer sight through the mass o' leaves into the yearth beneath. Then he kep' on going away and comin' back with a rush, till I got giddy, and fin'ly jest slithered to the ground. That time he didn't come back, and I krept away outer the Addo bush, living on roots and leaves like a animile. That's so. I got on a Wednesday to a Kaffir clearing, most like a wild beast, all kivered with ticks and sores." "And what became of the diamond?" "Well, the Abe Pike Diamon' Mining Company went to smash. That diamond's still in the Addo bush, and if any o' you would like to float the company I'm not sure but I wouldn't jine you again. I guess that ole bull's a hundred an' fifty years old, an' maybe he's not so blamed active. So long!" CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. HOW ABE LOST HIS WATER BARREL. Abe Pike was laying a new floor to his shed. He had at last, after many years, brought that wonderful structure to some semblance of a covered shelter, and now he was stamping down the red earth taken from ant-hills. This earth makes a firm floor, as it binds well and grows harder from use.