The dictionary translates schrik to mean fright, dread, terror, horror. But this hardly explains what is meant by the term here. Here it is meant to represent a combination of ticklishness and schrikishness, if I may be allowed to use the words in such a manner.
In South Africa, one often meets with persons who are thus affected in various stages. Some need to be touched under the arms, when they will shout out as loud as you like, and jump as high as you please. Some will be affected in the same way by being shown certain animals or insects, composing their particular dread, such as a spider, a frog or mouse. To others you need but to suddenly mention their particular objects of dread to make them act as if they were mad.
To others, again, the worst of all—after having once startled them and put them on the qui vive, you may stand at any safe distance, and in a sudden, sharp, commanding tone, order them to do or say what you please, and they simply cannot resist doing as you say.
This disease, as one may call it, is generally acquired by being over tickled in your youth, or receiving a bad fright, as the reader may gather from the recitals of the victims themselves further on. To some people it is a serious burden to be thus affected, as the amusement caused by their doing all sorts of ludicrous things at the will of everyone, tempts everybody to make them schrik, and the continual shock to the system causes them to tremble all over, and to feel an excess of nervousness not at all conducive to good health. The writer has known a strong healthy young man thus affected, to faint on being tickled under the arms while being held down.
Steve delighted in these comical persons, who would be so stupid as to do what you tell them, or say out loud what you whispered to them, simply out of schrik. But he always took care not to make an abuse of the amusement; for as soon as he saw his victim getting too excited, he would soothe him and spare him further for the time being.
The victim in this particular instance was named Piet. They were sitting having their dinner. Each was holding his mug of coffee in one hand; the kettle was empty; no more coffee to be had unless the kettle was first boiled. One of the transport riders looks round and winks, and says suddenly,—
‘Piet, throw that mug away.’ Away goes the mug, coffee and all.
Steve sees how the land lies, and joins in the laugh, seeing some fun ahead.
After Piet’s cup had been replenished by getting a portion from each of the other cups, he thought, ‘Now I shall be able to finish my meal,’ when he received the command, ‘Jump up, Piet.’ He jumped up as ordered, dropping both cup and food this time. He stood looking comically and disgustedly at his nice venison steak lying in the ashes, while the others were splitting their sides with laughing. Steve, of course, laughed as much as anyone else, and more so—it was so foolish to throw your food away like that.
After once more sharing food and drink with the others, he was allowed to finish his meal. After dinner, some Kaffir women came to the camp to sell stamp mealies (shelled maize). Some were bought and Piet was requested to pay. He took out his purse, opened it, and took out a shilling to pay the girl, when