“Fact,” returned the freebooter, “but time vill make dat all squaar. Smugglers bring guns to we, an’ pooder. Ver’ soon be all right.”
“Listen, Ruyter, you are like a child. You know nothing. The land from which the white man comes will never suffer him to be driven out of Africa. England is rich in everything, and will send men to fill the places of those who fall. Besides, I think God is on the white man’s side, because the white man in the main intends and tries to do good. Just think of the ‘fair.’ The black man wants beads and brass wire and cotton, and many other things—the white man brings these things from over the sea. On the other hand the white man wants hides, horns, ivory—the black man can supply these things. They meet to exchange, good is done by each to the other. Why should they fight?”
“For revenge,” said Ruyter darkly.
“No doubt revenge is sweet to you, but it is sinful,” returned Orpin. “Besides, the sweetness does not last long; and will it, let me ask, make the black man happier or the white man more sorrowful in the long-run? You should think of others, not only of yourself, Ruyter.”
“Does Jan Smit ever tink of oders—of anybody but hisself?”
“Perhaps not, but Conrad Marais does, and so do many other men of like mind. God, the Father of all men, is a God of peace, and does not permit His children to gratify feelings of revenge. Jesus, the Saviour of lost man, is the Prince of peace; He will not deliver those who wilfully give way to revenge.”
“I no want deliverance,” said the robber chief sternly.
“I know that,” replied Orpin, “and it was to deliver you from that state of mind that Jesus came. Think, Ruyter, think—”
He was interrupted at this point by the sound of an approaching ox-waggon. Ruyter, being a well-known outlaw, did not dare to show himself at the fair, although not a whit worse in any respect than most of the Kafir chiefs who walked openly there unchallenged. He shrank back into the shelter of the jungle while the trader awaited the coming up of the waggon.
“Aha, here you are, Orpin—not kept you waiting long, I hope?” said John Skyd as he followed his waggon into the glade.