There were some five or six big fellows, evidently the leaders, and these kept on making rushes right down to the bottom of the stones, followed by others; while the females with their young, which they hugged to their sides in a curiously human way, kept back, partly in hiding, but evidently watching the males, and keeping up a chorus of chattering.
"Why, the beggars are going to attack our butchers." "Yes; but they think better of it," I said, laughing; for the leaders of the troop turned back and began leaping up the hill again, but only to come charging down once more to the bottom of their little stony home, and stand chattering and grimacing menacingly.
"They're hungry," said Denham.
"Oh no, I don't think they'd behave as badly as we do," I replied.

"I don't think they'd eat horse." "What do they eat, then ?" "It always seemed to me when I've seen them that they ate fruit, nuts, and corn.

There used to be a pack of them in a big kopje not far from our place, and they would come down and make raids upon the farm till we had to make it too hot for them with small-shot, and then they went right away." "They don't like to see those horses dragged in," replied Denham.
"Not used to it," I said.

"There, they are going back into hiding now." The horses had now been drawn in to be treated as if they were oxen, and in a few minutes not one of the baboons was to be seen.

There were two or three alarms in the course of the day, but no direct attack; and the whole of the horses had a good long graze, the vegetation after the late rains being fairly abundant in places, though for the most part the veldt in the neighbourhood of the old fortress was very dry and bare.
There was abundance of water, however, for a stone tied to the end of four reins carefully joined did not suffice to plumb the well-like hole.
That evening, as Denham and I sat playing the part of voluntary sentry, my companion lent me his glass to watch the distant troops of Boers, which I did diligently.