I mused upon the Bible narrative of Jacob and Esau with a new and very
poignant sympathy for Esau. I wondered what would become of my Jacob.
Jacob, I mean the original, prospered exceedingly as a result of
his deal in porridge, and, as thought I, probably would his artful
descendant who so appropriately bore his name. As a matter of fact I do
not know what became of him, but bearing his talents in mind I think
it probable that, like Van Koop, under some other patronymic he has now
been rewarded with a title by the British Government. At any rate I
had eaten the porridge in the shape of worthless but dearly purchased
shares, after labouring hard at the chase of the golden calf, while
brother Jacob had got my inheritance, or rather my money. Probably he
was now counting it over in sovereigns upon the ship and sniggering as
he thought of the shareholders' meeting with me in the chair. Well,
he was a thief and would run his road to whatever end is appointed for
thieves, so why should I bother my head more about him? As I had kept my
honour--let him take my savings.

But I had a son to support, and now what was I to do with scarcely three
hundred pounds, a good stock of guns and this little Durban property
left to me in the world? Commerce in all its shapes I renounced once
and for ever. It was too high--or too low--for me; so it would seem that
there remained to me only my old business of professional hunting. Once
again I must seek those adventures which I had forsworn when my evil
star shone so brightly over a gold mine. What was it to be? Elephants, I
supposed, since these are the only creatures worth killing from a money
point of view. But most of my old haunts had been more or less shot out.
The competition of younger professionals, of wandering backveld Boers
and even of poaching natives who had obtained guns, was growing severe.
If I went at all I should have to travel farther afield.