At tea he would take a lot of milk and give me a little;
he finished soon, while I burnt my throat. He allowed me a slice of
biscuit for each meal. His cook only got $10 a month.
In the winter we were in bed by six to seven.
His clothes were a disgrace to any peon. He had native trousers that
button at the foot, with top boots, no socks, his heel and big toe were
sticking out, no vest, only a shirt and an old hat, where the grease of
many years was visible.
He was a splendid worker--I have not seen a better one. We used to catch
locusts in a big zinc box pulled by two horses; the locusts were put
into sacks, and after being left standing for four days, were carted to
the village, where he got 10 cents a kilo. The smell in carting these
dead locusts was simply terrible. Then I helped pick ten square of
maize, which at first took a little skin off my hands. At branding time
we lassoed each calf to cut off the horns. I had to sit on their necks,
and got smothered in the face with hot blood. The Boss was very proud
because his monthly account only came to $12 for four of us: biscuits,
sugar, tea, and other things. He sent his clothes once in three months
to be washed. He had few friends, no one ever came to visit him, and
every Sunday he shut himself in his room.
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