We have said that Ben Halse’s record was not quite clear; that there were dark hints whispered against him with regard to liquor-smuggling and gun-running. As for the latter, whatever had been done in that line had been done during the civil war in the country what time the Usutu party and Sibepu were striving for the mastery. In common with all others of his class and tradition, and with many others besides, he held that if the natives chose to get up a fight among themselves that was their look-out, and, in fact, so much the better, in that it would serve the dual purpose of keeping down their numbers, and giving them the opportunity of letting loose the spirit of Donnybrook upon each other; wherefore if they wanted firearms for that purpose he had no scruple in supplying the side that would pay the highest price. Now, however, the case was different. Undhlawafa’s “dark” talking was clear enough to him. Such a bribe as two hundred pounds could only mean one thing, and that was not liquor-smuggling.
“The load is there,” went on the Zulu. “It is only for bringing it in—the price. Is it not high enough?”
Still Ben Halse did not reply. Yes, the circumstances now were different. The country was now fairly populated with whites, among them hundreds of women and children. All of these he knew were virtually sitting on the crater of a volcano, and he had often said so, only to be derided as a scaremonger. He, however, knew that sooner or later the eruption would take place.
As Undhlawafa had said, this man’s word was as certain as that the sun would rise; and this held good equally among white and black. But when it came to a question of making money—though never known to go back upon his word—Ben Halse was not scrupulous as to how he made it. In dealing with natives of authority or position, or both, and, indeed, with many others, he had found them absolutely reliable. He knew now that were he to demand double the price of the service asked of him he would almost certainly receive it; yet he was in no hurry to close with the offer. The induna, the while, sat placidly taking snuff. Then Verna’s clear voice was heard.
“Father, come along in. The dinner will be spoiled.”
“We will go after that big koodoo bull to-night, Undhlawafa,” he said, rising to go inside.
“Nkose!”
“Whatever have you and old Undhlawafa been yarning about all this time, dear?” asked Verna, as they sat at table.
“He says there’s a thundering big koodoo bull down in the Lumisana, one with record horns. We are going after him to-night.”