"The fact is I've had enough of going to the front," Eustace would reply. "When I was there I used often to wonder what business it was of mine anyway, and when the Kafirs made a prisoner of me, my first thought was that it served me devilish well right. I give you my word it was. And I tell you what it is. When a man has got up every day for nearly a month, not knowing whether he'd go to bed between his blankets that night or pinned down to a black ants' nest, he's in no particular hurry to go and expose himself to a repetition of the process. It tells upon the nerves, don't you know." "By Jove, I believe you," replied the other. "I never knew Jack Kafir was such a cruel devil before, at least not to white men. Well, if I'd gone through what you have, I believe I'd give the front a wide berth, too. As it is, I'm off in a day or two, I hope." "I trust you may meet with better luck," said Eustace. One day a considerable force of mounted burghers started for the Transkei--a good typical force--hardened, seasoned frontiersmen all, well mounted, well armed; in fact, a thoroughly serviceable looking corps all round. There was the usual complement of spectators seeing them off--the usual amount of cheering and hat-waving. On the outskirts of the crowd was a sprinkling of natives, representing divers races and colours. "_Au_!" exclaimed a tall Gaika, as the crowd dispersed. "_That_ will be a hard stone for Kreli to try and crush. If it was the _Amapolise_ [Police] he could knock them to pieces with a stick. Mere boys!" "What's that you say, Johnny?" said a hard-fisted individual, turning threateningly upon the speaker. "Nothing. I only made a remark to my comrade," replied the man in his own language. "Did you?" said the other walking up to the Kafir and looking him straight in the eye. "Then just keep your damned remarks to yourself, Johnny, or we shall quarrel. D'you hear?" But the Kafir never quailed, never moved. He was a tall, powerful native and carried his head grandly. The white man, though shorter, looked tough and wiry as whip cord. The crowd, which had been scattering, gathered round the pair with the celerity of a mob of London street-cads round a fallen cab-horse. "What's the row? A cheeky nigger? Give him fits, Mister! Knock him into the middle of next week!" were some of the cries that burst from the group of angry and excited men. "I have committed no offence," said the Kafir. "I made a remark to a comrade, saying what a fine lot of men those were." "Oh, yes? Very likely!" shouted several ironically. "See here now. You get out of this," said the first man. "Do you hear, get out. Don't say another word--or--" He did not finish. Stung by a contemptuous look in the Kafir's eyes, he dashed his fist full into his face.