“Ah,” said Peter, “that’s why I wasn’t able to make out at first what nation you could be of; your dress, you know—” Then he stopped, and said, “Trading here, I suppose? Which country do you come from; are you a Spanish Jew?”
“I am a Jew of Palestine.”
“Ah!” said Peter; “I haven’t seen many from that part yet. I came out with a lot on board ship; and I’ve seen Barnato and Beit; but they’re not very much like you. I suppose it’s coming from Palestine makes the difference.”
All fear of the stranger had now left Peter Halket. “Come a little nearer the fire,” he said, “you must be cold, you haven’t too much wraps. I’m chill in this big coat.” Peter Halket pushed his gun a little further away from him; and threw another large log on the fire. “I’m sorry I haven’t anything to eat to offer you; but I haven’t had anything myself since last night. It’s beastly sickening, being out like this with nothing to eat. Wouldn’t have thought a fellow’d feel so bad after only a day of it. Have you ever been out without grub?” said Peter cheerfully, warming his hands at the blaze.
“Forty days and nights,” said the stranger.
“Forty days! Ph—e—ew!” said Peter. “You must have have had a lot to drink, or you wouldn’t have stood it. I was feeling blue enough when you turned up, but I’m better now, warmer.”
Peter Halket re-arranged the logs on the fire.
“In the employ of the Chartered Company, I suppose?” said Peter, looking into the fire he had made.
“No,” said the stranger; “I have nothing to do with the Chartered Company.”
“Oh,” said Peter, “I don’t wonder, then, that things aren’t looking very smart with you! There’s not too much cakes and ale up here for those that do belong to it, if they’re not big-wigs, and none at all for those who don’t. I tried it when I first came up here. I was with a prospector who was hooked on to the Company somehow, but I worked on my own account for the prospector by the day. I tell you what, it’s not the men who work up here who make the money; it’s the big-wigs who get the concessions!”