except with a curse, and used to cuff her thin shoulders till my
blood boiled. One day things became too much for my temper.
Zeeta had spilled half a glass of Japp's whisky while tidying up
the room. He picked up a sjambok, and proceeded to beat her
unmercifully till her cries brought me on the scene. I tore the
whip from his hands, seized him by the scruff and flung him

on a heap of potato sacks, where he lay pouring out abuse and
shaking with rage. Then I spoke my mind. I told him that if
anything of the sort happened again I would report it at once
to Mr Colles at Durban. I added that before making my report
I would beat him within an inch of his degraded life. After a
time he apologized, but I could see that thenceforth he
regarded me with deadly hatred.
There was another thing I noticed about Mr Japp. He might
brag about his knowledge of how to deal with natives, but to
my mind his methods were a disgrace to a white man. Zeeta
came in for oaths and blows, but there were other Kaffirs
whom he treated with a sort of cringing friendliness. A big
black fellow would swagger into the shop, and be received by
Japp as if he were his long-lost brother. The two would
collogue for hours; and though at first I did not understand
the tongue, I could see that it was the white man who fawned
and the black man who bullied. Once when japp was away one
of these fellows came into the store as if it belonged to him,
but he went out quicker than he entered. Japp complained
afterwards of my behaviour. ''Mwanga is a good friend of
mine,' he said, 'and brings us a lot of business. I'll thank you
to be civil to him the next time.' I replied very shortly that
'Mwanga or anybody else who did not mend his manners