Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 19)( Page 7 ) Jocks Mistake

So that was the explanation of the koodoo's return to us!  The natives, a hunting party, had heard the shot and coming along in hopes of meat had met and headed off the wounded koodoo, turning her back almost on her own tracks.  There was satisfaction in having the puzzle solved, but the more practical point was that here was all the help I wanted; and the boys readily agreed to skin the animal and carry the four quarters to the camp for the gift of the rest. Then my trouble began with Jock.  He flew at the first of the kaffir dogs that sneaked up to sniff at the koodoo.  Shouting at him produced no effect whatever, and before I could get hold of him he had mauled the animal pretty badly.  After hauling him off I sat down in the shade, with him beside me; but there were many dogs, and a succession of affairs, and I, knowing nothing of his deafness, became thoroughly exasperated and  urprised by poor old Jock's behaviour. His instinct to defend our kills, which was always strong, was roused that day beyond control, and his hatred of kaffir dogs--an implacable one in any case--made a perfect fury of him; still, the sickening awful feeling that came over me as he lay limp and lifeless was too fresh, and it was not possible to be really angry; and after half a dozen of the dogs had been badly handled there was something so comical in the way they sheered off and eyed Jock that I could only laugh.  They sneaked behind bushes and tried to circumvent him in all sorts of ways, but fled precipitately as soon as he moved a step or lowered his head and humped his shoulders threateningly.  Even the kaffir owners, who had begun to look glum, broke into appreciative laughter and shouts of admiration for the white man's dog. Jock kept up an unbroken string of growls, not loud, of course, but I could feel them going all the while like a volcano's rumbling as my restraining hand rested on him, and when the boys came up to skin the koodoo I had to hold him down and shake him sharply.  The dog was mad with fight; he bristled all over; and no patting or talking produced more than a flicker of his ears.  The growling went on; the hair stood up; the tail was quite unresponsive; his jaws were set like a vice; and his eyes shone like two black diamonds.  He had actually struggled to get free of my hand when the boys began to skin, and they were so scared by his resolute attempt that they would not start until I put him down between my knees and held him. I was sitting against a tree only three or four yards from the koodoo, and the boys, who had lighted a fire in anticipation of early tit-bits which would grill while they worked, were getting along well with the skinning, when one of them saw fit to pause in order to hold forth in the native fashion on the glories of the chase and the might of the white man.  Jock's head lay on his paws and his mouth was shut like a rat trap; his growling grew louder as the bombastic nigger, all unconscious of the wicked watching eyes behind him, waved his blood-stained knife and warmed to his theme. "Great you thought yourself," proclaimed the orator, addressing the dead koodoo in a long rigmarole which was only partly understood by me but evidently much approved by the other boys as they stooped to their work, "Swift of foot and strong of limb.  But the white man came, and--there!" I could not make out the words with any certainty; but whatever the last word was, it was intended as a dramatic climax, and to lend additional force to his point the orator let fly a resounding kick on the koodoo's stomach. The effect was quite electrical!  Like an arrow from the bow Jock flew at him!  The warning shout came too late, and as  ock's teeth fastened in him behind the terrified boy gave a wild bound over the koodoo, carrying Jock like a streaming coat-tail behind him. The work was stopped and the natives drew off in grave consultation.  I thought that they had had enough of Jock for one day and that they would strike work and leave me, probably returning later on to steal the meat while I went for help from the waggons.  But it turned out that the consultation was purely medical, and in a few minutes I had an interesting exhibition of native doctoring.  They laid the late orator out face downwards, and one burly `brother' straddled him across the small of the back; then after a little preliminary examination of the four slits left by Jock's fangs, he proceeded to cauterise them with the glowing ends of sundry sticks which an assistant took from the fire and handed to him as required.  The victim flapped his hands on the ground and hallooed out "My babo!  My babo!" but he did not struggle; and the operator toasted away with methodical indifference. The orator stood it well! I took Jock away to the big tree near the pool: it was evident that he, too, had had enough of it for one day.