Poor Tam!  Those days must live in his memory like a hideous nightmare!  I, of course, knew nothing of the edict at the time—­for bushmen do not advertise their chivalry—­and wandered round the straggling Settlement vaguely surprised at its sobriety, and turning up in such unexpected places that the little bushman was constantly on the verge of apoplexy.

But experience teaches quickly.  On the first day, after running into me several times, he learned the wisdom of spying out the land before turning a corner.  On the second day, after we had come on him while thus engaged several other times, he learned the foolishness of placing too much confidence in corners, and deciding by the law of averages that the bar was the only safe place in the Settlement, availed himself of its sanctuary in times of danger.  On the third day he learned that the law of averages is a weak reed to lean on; for on slipping round a corner, and mistaking a warning signal from the Wag, he whisked into the bar to whisk out again with a clatter of hobnailed boots, for I was in there examining some native curios.  “She’s in there next,” he gasped as he passed the Wag on his way to the cover of the nearest corner.

“Poor Tam!” How he must have hated women as he lurked in the doubtful ambush of that corner.

“How he did skoot!” the Wag chuckled later on when recounting with glee, to the Maluka and Mac, the story of Tam’s dash for cover.

Pitying Tam, I took his part, and said he seemed a sober, decent little man and couldn’t help being shy; then paused, wondering at the queer expression on the men’s faces.

Mac coughed in embarrassment, and the Maluka and the Wag seemed pre-occupied, and, fearing I had been misunderstood, I added hastily:  “So is everyone in the Settlement, for that matter,” thereby causing further embarrassment.

After a short intense silence the Wag “thought he’d be getting along,” and as he moved off the Maluka laughed.  “Oh, missus, missus!” and Mac blurted out the whole tale of the edict—­concluding rather ambiguously by saying:  “Don’t you go thinking it’s made any difference to any of us, because it hasn’t.  We’re not saints, but we’re not pigs, and, besides, it was a pleasure.”

I doubted if it was much pleasure to Tam-o-Shanter; but forgetting he was sober by compulsion, even he had begun to feel virtuous; and when he heard he had been called a “sober, decent little man,” he positively swaggered; and on the fourth morning walked jauntily past the Cottage and ventured a quiet good-morning—­a simple enough little incident in itself; but it proved Tam’s kinship with his fellowmen.  For is it not the knowledge that some one thinks well of us that makes us feel at ease in that person’s company?

Later in the same day, the flood having fallen, it was decided that it would be well to cross the horses in the rear of a boat, and we were all at the river discussing preparations, when Tam electrified the community by joining the group.