"And that your partner had been killed and your cattle taken away?"
"Well, not exactly; but——"
"You're a silly scaremonger, spreading a yarn like this, and a cur to boot for deserting your partner! Get out of my camp; get out quickly; go South, go anywhere. I don't care where you go so long as you do go!"
The man expostulated and threatened to report to Headquarters Wrenshaw's unmannered treatment of him. As the Commissioner took no more notice of him, he went off.
But Wrenshaw was scanning the road which led towards the seat of the alleged trouble. Presently he stepped back into his tent, picked up his field-glasses and, returning, focussed them on a distant point of the road.
What he saw perturbed him; he returned the glasses to his case and walked impatiently up and down before his tent. A runner was approaching, a Government messenger, he could tell that by his uniform. In his hand he bore a split reed with a letter slipped in it. His long Arab shirt was gathered up and tucked into his belt to give greater freedom in running.
The messenger came along at that steady jog trot which enables the native to cover such surprising distances in Africa. On nearing Wrenshaw he dropped into a walk, approached the white man, saluted and handed him the letter.
The envelope was addressed to the Commandant of the Police Force at Headquarters. Without hesitation the Commissioner tore it open and read as follows:
C.A.R. Police, Mora Station.
"Monday, 26th June, 19—.
Sir,