“Yes, Dan.”
“Not a bit like one of the regular natives, sir?”
“Not a bit.”
“A lot of them seem as if their mothers used to sit upon their faces when they was kids, to keep them warm and flatten their noses out.”
“Well, yes. They are of another race, though—the regular niggers. These Zulu sort of chaps like Mak are quite different.”
“That’s so, sir; and this old fellow, he was a regular hooked beaked ’un. Put me in mind of one of them big tortoises as you see in the islands up by Mauritius.”
“Never seen them, Dan.”
“Well, you take my word for it, then, sir; they look as old as if they had come out of the Ark. Now then, sir, just you tell me this. What was King Solomon?”
“King of Israel, of course.”
“I don’t mean that, sir. Warn’t he a Jew?”