are about as likely to find a
magistrate who will consent to sign a permit for the sale of a gun to a
Kaffir, while there's war going on between the Colony and that Kaffir's
fellow-countrymen as you are to find a Bushman Hottentot who would
refuse to get drunk if you made him a present of a bucketful of brandy.
I can't do it, Tom. Wait, though; why don't you get your master, _Baas_
Sonnenberg, to sell you one. He'd sell you a grin of a sort--or his
immortal soul, if he's got one--for fifteen sovereigns cash. Try him.
Besides, I should be delighted to have him chocked into the _tronk_ for
`gun-running.' Try him, Tom," he went on, banteringly sneering, as he
saw the other start and his face light up eagerly at this reference to
Sonnenberg. "Well now, that deal is off, clean off, you understand, so
pick up your money again and clear, for it's getting precious late.
Here's a bit of tobacco for you."

The Kaffir picked up the coins in silence, tying them up in the greasy
rag as before.

"Fifteen pounds is a lot of money," went on Roden, "and to-morrow you'll
be only too glad I didn't take your offer when you find you still have
the money, instead of going away to get shot like the rest of your
people."

"_Au_!" exclaimed the fellow half to himself, yet looking up briskly as
though a new and bright idea had dawned upon him in the words. "When I
find I still have the money," he repeated, as he took his leave.

But as he went out, a dark figure, which had been crouching outside
against the door throughout the whole of this interview, rose and glided
rapidly round the corner, unperceived by Roden Musgrave.

Outside, in the black and rainy street, the Kaffir made his way swiftly
towards his master's dwelling, which was odd at that time of night,
because he slept at the town location half a mile in the contrary
direction, and as he went, closely followed by the stealthy figure, he
kept repeating in his own language the words: "When I find I still have
the money in the morning... Only too glad. _Yau_!"

With this ejaculation he stopped short. In the dark and rainy silence
the full force of the idea flashed upon him in all its brightness. The
result was that he turned, and bent his steps in the direction of his
habitual sleeping quarters.

Hardly had he gone ten yards before he was met by the figure which had
been following him. Seen in the gloom it was that of a man, a Kaffir,
of about the same height and build a