There is a lean dog going after him, to whom I suppose he never gives more than a bone from which he has sucked the marrow; but his dog loves him, as his wife does.

There is something of the master about him in spite of his blackness and wool.
See how he brandishes his stick and holds up his head!" "Oh, but aren't you making fun ?" said Gregory, looking doubtfully from her to the Kaffer herd, who rounded the kopje.
"No; I am very serious.

He is the most interesting and intelligent thing I can see just now, except, perhaps, Doss.

He is profoundly suggestive.
Will his race melt away in the heat of a collision with a higher?
Are the men of the future to see his bones only in museums--a vestige of one link that spanned between the dog and the white man?
He wakes thoughts that run far out into the future and back into the past." Gregory was not quite sure how to take these remarks.

Being about a Kaffer, they appeared to be of the nature of a joke; but, being seriously spoken, they appeared earnest; so he half laughed and half not, to be on the safe side.
"I've often thought so myself.