"'The baboons have killed the crop on the lower lands,' said Shadrach, smacking his leg with his sjambok. 'If they are not checked, they will destroy all the corn on this farm. What is the way to go about it?'
"The little yellow man was biting his lips and turning a straw in his hands, and gave no answer, but the other spoke.
"'I am from Shangaanland,' he said, 'and there, when the baboons plague us, we have a way with them, a good way.'
"He sneered sideways at his yellow companion as he spoke, and the look which the latter returned to him was a thing to shrink from.
"'What is this way?' demanded Shadrach.
"'You must trap a baboon,' explained the old Kafir. 'A leading baboon, for choice, who has a lot to say in the government of the troop. And then you must skin him, and let him go again. The others will travel miles and miles as soon as they see him, and never come back again.'
"'It makes me sick to think of it,' said Shadrach. 'Surely you know some other way of scaring them?'
"The old Kafir shook his head slowly, but the yellow man ceased to smile and play with the straw and spoke.
"'I do not believe in that way, baas. A Shangaan baboon'—he grinned at his companion—'is more easily frightened than those of the Drakensberg. I am of the bushmen, and I know. If you flay one of those up yonder, the others will make war, and where one came before, ten will come every night. A baboon is not a fat lazy Kafir; one must be careful with him.'
"'How would you drive them away, then?' asked Shadrach.