You will
have it. I myself will see to that. _Hambani gahle_."

"Iqalaqala is our father," they murmured, rising to leave. "_Amakosi_!
_Hlalani gahle_!"

I watched their receding forms, and shook my head. Then I looked at
Tyingoza.

"It is a pity," I said. "Yes, a great pity. These people down there
are good people--yes, even of the best of the land. It is only that
they lack understanding, yet even that will come--with experience. I
will go and talk again with them--yes--this very evening. Come with me,
Tyingoza. Your words as a chief will carry much weight, and these
people will treat you with consideration."

He answered something about having to go home and see about some new
cattle that were being sent in to him. Then with a waggish expression
of countenance he said:

"_Au_! Iqalaqala. When are you going to build a new hut?"

The joke was obvious. I did not live in the trading store but in a
large, well-built native hut adjoining; as being cooler, and free from
the mingled odours of the varying commodities in which I dealt. When a
native sends _lobola_ for a new wife he has a new and additional hut
built for her accommodation. Tyingoza was chaffing me.

I called out an order to my native boy, whose quarters were at the back
of the store. Presently he came trotting up, bearing a steaming kettle,
and cups, and sugar. Tyingoza's face lit up at the sight. He had a
weakness for strong black coffee, abundantly sweetened, and when he came
to see me always got it, and plenty of it. So for another half-hour he
sat imbibing the stuff, completely happy. Then he got up to go.

I bade him farewell, reminding him again of our conversation and his
influence with his people; the while, he smiled quizzically, and I knew
that his mind was still running upon his joke as to the new hut. Then I
went into the old one, and carefully, and for me, somewhat elaborately,
changed my attire, what time my boy was saddling up my best horse. I
went to no pains in locking up, for was not Tyingoza my friend, and his
people dusky savages, who wore no trousers--only _mutyas_; in short the
very people to whom we are most anxious to send missionaries.

CHAPTER THREE.

OF AN EVENING VISIT.

As I rode down the rugged bush path I began to undergo a very unwonted
and withal uneasy frame of mind. For instance what on earth had
possessed me to take such an interest in the well-being or ill-being of
Major Sewin and h