s the incident he had been trying to relate to Ancram,
when Lamont had twice cut him short with what the guest had deemed
brusque and unnecessary rudeness.

Having finished his meal Peters lighted a digestive pipe, and sent his
plate skimming away in the direction of the boys, who immediately
pounced upon the scraps; for there is never a moment in life when a
native is not ready to feed, and nothing eatable that he will refuse to
feed on--except fish.

"Hey, Malvani?" he called.

"_Nkose_!" And one of the boys came trotting up.

"What of Inyovu? Will he come back, do you think?"

"_Ou nkose_!" said the fellow with a half grin. "Who may say? He is
Matabele. We are not."

"Well, get to work again."

"_Nkose_."

Peters sat a little longer thinking--and the subject of his thoughts was
the man whose life he had saved--to wit Ancram.

"I don't like the cuss," he said to himself. "Wish I'd left him where
he was--no--I don't exactly that--still, I wish he'd move on. He's an
ungrateful dog, anyhow."

The noonday air was sensuous and drowsy. Even the screech of the
crickets was so unintermittent as to form part of the prevailing
stillness. Peters began to nod.

"_Nkose_!"

The salutation was sulky rather than hearty. Peters started wide awake
again, to behold his missing boy, Inyovu.

The latter was a young Matabele, tall and slight, and clad in nothing
but an old shirt and a skin _mutya_. But his face was the face of a
truculent savage--the face of one who would have been far more in his
element as a unit in some marauding expedition sent forth by Lobengula
in the good old times, than serving in the peaceful avocation of mine
boy to a white prospector.

"I see you, Inyovu," returned Peters, speaking fluently in the
Sindabele. "But I have not seen you for half a day when I should have
seen you working." The point of which satire was that the fellow had
taken French leave since the night before.

"_Au_!" he replied, half defiantly. "I have been to see my chief."

"Been to see your chief--_impela_! Who is your chief, Inyovu? The man
who pays you or the man who does not?"

Natives are susceptible to ridicule, and Peters had a satirical way with
him which lay rather in the tone than in the words used. The three
Makalaka boys in the background sniggered, and this acted as a whip to
the Matabele.

"My chief?" he blared. "My chief? _Whau, Mlungu_! Zwabeka is my
chief."

The tone apart, to a