Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick ( Chapter 13) ( Page 1 ) The Allies

Jock disliked kaffirs: so did Jim.  To Jim there were three big divisions of the human race--white men, Zulus, and niggers.  Zulu, old or young, was greeted by him as equal, friend and comrade; but the rest were trash, and he cherished a most particular contempt for the Shangaans and Chopis, as a lot who were just about good enough for what they did--that is, work in the mines.  They could neither fight nor handle animals; and the sight of them stirred him to contempt and pricked him to hostilities. It was not long before Jim discovered this bond of sympathy between him and Jock, and I am perfectly sure that the one bad habit which Jock was never cured of was due to deliberate encouragement from Jim on every possible opportunity.  It would have been a matter of difficulty and patience in any case to teach Jock not to unnecessarily attack strange kaffirs.  It was very important that he should have nothing to do with them, and should treat them with suspicion as possible enemies and keep them off the premises.  I was glad that he did it by his own choice and instinct; but this being so, it needed all the more intelligence and training to get him to understand just where to draw the line.  Jim made it worse; he made the already difficult task practically impossible by egging Jock on; and what finally made it quite impossible was the extremely funny turn it took, which caused such general amusement that every one joined in the conspiracy and backed up Jock. Every one knows how laughable it is to see a person dancing about like a mad dervish, with legs and arms going in all directions, dodging the rushes of a dog, especially if the spectator knows that the dog will not do any real harm and is more intent on scaring his victim, just for the fun of the thing, than on hunting him.  Well, that is how it began. As far as I know the first incident arose out of the intrusion of a strange kaffir at one of the outspans.  Jock objected, and he was forcing a scared boy back step by step--doing the same feinting rushes that he practised with game--until the boy tripped over a camp stool and sat plump down on the three-legged pot of porridge cooking at the camp fire.  I did not see it; for Jock was, as usual, quite silent--a feature which always had a most terrifying effect on his victims: it was a roar like a lion's from Jim that roused me.  Jock was standing off with his feet on the move forwards and backwards, his head on one side and his face full of interest, as if he would dearly love another romp in; and the waggon-boys were reeling and rolling about the grass, helpless with laughter. A dog is just as quick as a child to find out when he can take liberties; he knows that laughter and serious disapproval do not go together; and Jock with the backing of the boys thoroughly enjoyed him-self.  That was how it began; and by degrees it developed into the great practical joke.  The curious thing to note was the way in which Jock entered into the spirit of the thing, and how he improved and varied his methods.  It was never certain what he would do; sometimes it would be a wild romp, as it was that day; at other times he would stalk the intruder in the open, much as a pointer approaches his birds in the last strides, and with eyes fixed steadily and mouth tightly pursed-up, he would move straight at him with infinite slowness and deliberation until, the boy's nerve failed, and he turned and ran.  At other times again he trotted out as if he had seen nothing, and then stopped suddenly.  If the boy came on, Jock waited; but if there was any sign of fear or hesitation, he lowered his head, humped up his shoulders--as a stagey boxer does when he wants to appear ferocious--and gave his head a kind of chuck forward, as if in the act of charging: this seldom failed to shake the intruder's nerve, and as soon as he turned or backed, the romp began.  Still another trick was to make a round in the bush and come up behind unobserved, and then make a furious dash with rumbly gurgly growls; the startled boy invariably dropped all he had, breaking into a series of fantastic capers and excited yells, to the huge delight of Jim and the others. But these things were considered trifles: the piece that always `brought the house down' was the Shangaan gang trick, which on one occasion nearly got us all into serious trouble.  The natives going to or from  the goldfields travel in gangs of from four or five to forty or fifty; they walk along in Indian-file, and even when going across the veld or walking on wide roads they wind along singly in the footsteps of the leader.  What prompted the dog to start this new game I cannot imagine: certainly no one could have taught it to him; and as well as one could judge, he did it entirely `off his own bat,' without anything to lead up to or suggest it.