“Do you paint, then, Mr Denham, in addition to your other scientific accomplishments?”
“No; I thought I could dabble in it at one time, but had too many serious irons in the fire. Still, I’m given to drawing mental pictures, and this is one of them, that’s all. By the way, your father was saying you were going to be kind enough to act as my guide this afternoon. Is that so?”
“Oh yes. We were talking about it before you came out. Where would you like to go?”
“That I leave entirely to you. By the way, yes. Will you show me the spot where you shot the record head?”
“It’s rather far, I’m afraid, for one afternoon. However, we’ll see. Well, I’m through with this job now. I’ll put it inside. Look! there are some people coming to the store, I expect. Yes, they are. Come and see me shop-keep, Mr Denham.”
She took the tin of dough into the kitchen, and returned in a second with some keys.
Two women and a youth were approaching. Verna unlocked the door, and, as he entered, Denham looked curiously around and above at the multifold variety of trade goods. The atmosphere was inclined to be musty, and, by virtue of the nature of some of the things, not over-fragrant.
The natives entered, rather shyly, giving the salute. They stared curiously at Denham. His fine physique and general bearing impressed them. There could only be one opinion as to what had brought him there. He had come to offer U’ Ben lobola for the Inkosazana. But they would make a fine pair! This they told each other afterwards.
“Well, what is wanted?” Verna asked.
“Tobacco. Smoking tobacco such as white people use,” answered one of the women.