nd dull routine of the last few
months, the utter desolation of his uncongenial life, even the terrible
and sickening realisation that he was next door to destitute, all were
forgotten now; all such memories swallowed up in the anticipation of
what was before him. As they trekked along in the moonlight, seated
side by side on the box of the foremost waggon, Dawes proceeded to
initiate Gerard further into some of the mysteries of native trade.

"As I was telling you," he said, "there's a regular fashion among
natives, just the same as among white folks. For instance, take
Salampore cloth; there are the two kinds--the thin dark blue and gauzy,
and the lighter-coloured and coarser kind with the orange stripes. Now,
the Zulus are keen as mustard on the first, and simply won't look at the
last, whereas with the natives of Natal, whether of Zulu or Basuto
blood, it's exactly the other way about. Again, take beads. We've got
all sorts--black, white, blue, pink, red. Now, which would you suppose
the Zulus are keenest on?"

Gerard replied that of course they would go for the brightest coloured
ones--say, the red or blue.

"Not a bit of it. The ones they like best of all are the black, after
them the white. There's a fashion about these things, as I tell you.
Now, you'd think one of them pocket-knives, with a blade like a sabre,
and a saw and a corkscrew, and the Lord knows what amount of gimcrackery
all in one handle, would fetch them more than any mortal thing. Well,
it wouldn't. They'd hardly say thank you for one such knife that might
have cost you a guinea, whereas, for them roughly knocked together
butcher knives, that cost me tenpence apiece wholesale, they'll give
almost anything. They like to make a sheath for the thing, to hang
around them."

"What sort of people are they in the way of trade?" asked Gerard.

"Hard as nails. Haggle the eyes out of your head. But you've got to be
firm over a deal, for they're up to all manner of tricks. If the barter
is live stock, they'll try all they know to jockey you with some
worthless and inferior beasts, and so on. Dishonesty? No, they don't
think it dishonest. It is simply their principle of trade--devil take
the hindmost. So far are they from dishonest, that I have more than
once in the Zulu country left my waggon standing for an hour at a time
with absolutely nobody in charge, and have come back to find it
surrounded with people waiting for me, and yet not