“Ah, but the fun would have been to have taken you by surprise, when you were in the thick of it. How is it there are no natives here to-day?”
“They’ll roll up directly for the fun this evening. I expect quite a lot of them.”
“Are they hard at a deal?” she went on, still gazing with interest at the trade goods. “Do they haggle much?”
“Haggle? Rather! Haggle like any Italian. Only they’re much more difficult to bring down. But, won’t you come round now and have tea? I’ve had a waggon sail rigged up for shade because I thought you’d prefer it outside.”
The ladies were delighted, and I will own in candour that there didn’t seem to be anything wanting, if about four kinds of biscuits; and rolls, white and fresh, done on a gridiron; some very excellent tinned jam; butter and potted meats; tea and coffee, and for us men a decanter of first-rate Boer brandy—contributed a sufficient afternoon tea.
“So this is the ‘roughing it’ you warned us against, Mr Glanton?” laughed Mrs Sewin, who was pouring out. “Why, it is luxury, positive luxury.”
“But it’s a great occasion,” I answered. “Major, have a glass of grog after your ride.”
“Well, that’s no bad idea. Capital stuff this,” holding up his glass.
“So it is,” pronounced Falkner, tossing off his. “Here’s luck, Glanton. By Jove, you’ve got an uncommonly snug crib up here. Hanged if it don’t feel like turning Zulu trader myself.”
“And if Tyingoza came here rather often, and stuck here a little longer than you wanted, how long would it be before you started to kick him off the place?”