"All the people are paying the tax willingly and well."
Nanzela made no reply, but gazed at the speaker with an expression of indifference.
Wrenshaw put his hand carelessly on the butt of his rifle and resumed.
"There are but two paths for a man to travel, the one is towards peace, and the other to trouble, war."
Nanzela blinked. He had not been able to see the white man's rifle from where he sat until called to come closer, nor had he noticed it before Wrenshaw's careless gesture drew his attention to it. His arms and those of his people were piled against the tree, and so, for the moment, out of reach. The white man's hand was on his rifle. All white men were good shots, and Wrenshaw had a reputation for being better than most. If he chose the wrong path now he would be the first to suffer. It would not be wise to run risks.
"It is only a foolish man who seeks trouble."
"Exactly," said Wrenshaw, "that is why all men are paying willingly and in full. I see you have your purse on your arm and have come to pay your tax." And again his hand caressed the butt of his rifle.
Nanzela unbuckled an armlet which held his money.
Turning to the interpreter Wrenshaw told him to put down the log, which he was still nursing, and get a book of tax receipt forms from the pack-saddle.
Nanzela shook half-a-sovereign from his purse.