ndful. I don't say it's the thing to steal 'em; but who would steal?
Just a bit of nice honest trade--buy in the cheapest market and sell in
the dearest. It's what the company does, but nobody else ought to, of
course. Who's going to ask every Kaffir who comes to you and says: `Buy
a few stones, baas?' `Where do you get 'em from?' Not me. They've as
good a right to 'em as the company, and if I like to do a bit of honest
trade I will, in spite of the miserable laws they make. Hang their
laws! What are they to me? Illicit-diamond-buying! Police force, eh?
A snap of the fingers for it!

"A bit sooner than I expected," mused the flute-player. "A few months
more, and I should have made a very big thing if the Boers hadn't upset
it all and Master Ingle hadn't been so precious clever! Never mind: it
isn't so very bad now! I'll be off while my shoes are good. I don't
believe the Boers have got round to the south yet, and, if they have, I
don't believe it'll matter. Say they do stop me, it'll only be: `Who
are you--and where are you going?' Down south or west or anywhere, to
do a bit of trade. I'm sloping off--that's what I'm doing--because the
British are trying to force me to volunteer to fight against my old
friends the Boers. I'll soft-soap and butter 'em all over, and play 'em
a tune or two upon the flute, and offer 'em some good tobacco. They
won't stop me."

The quiet, plump, thoughtful-looking muser was on his way to a farm just
beyond the outskirts of Kimberley, as he walked slowly through the
darkness, hardly passing a soul; and he rubbed his hands softly at last
as he came in sight of a dim gleaming lantern some distance ahead.

"All ready and waiting," he said softly, and now he increased his pace a
little in his excitement, but only to stop short and look back once or
twice as if to make sure that he was not followed. But, neither seeing
nor hearing anything, he rubbed his hands again, muttered to himself
something about wiping his shoes of the whole place, and went on
quickly.

"Das you, baas?" said a thick guttural voice just above the lantern.

"Yes, this is me," replied Anson. "Team in-spanned?"

"Yaas, baas: big long time ago. Not tink baas come."

"But I said I would," replied Anson. "Got the water-barrel slung
underneath?"

The man grunted, Anson gave an order or two in a low tone, and in
response to a shout a dimly-seen team of great bullocks roughly
harnessed to the dissel bo