“You’ll find you have to do the one thing or the other, and right now!” I cried, and then, striking into a happier vein, “Come,” said I, “you’re a better sort than that. I see what’s wrong with you—you think I came from the opposite camp. I see the sort of man you are, and you know that what I ask is right.”
Again he changed ground. “If the natives get any drink, it isn’t safe to stop them,” he objected.
“I’ll be answerable for the bar,” I said. “We are three men and four revolvers; we’ll come at a word, and hold the place against the village.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about; it’s too dangerous!” he cried.
“Look here,” said I, “I don’t mind much about losing that life you talk so much of; but I mean to lose it the way I want to, and that is, putting a stop to all this beastliness.”
He talked a while about his duty to the firm; I minded not at all, I was secure of victory. He was but waiting to capitulate, and looked about for any potent to relieve the strain. In the gush of light from the bedroom door I spied a cigar-holder on the desk. “That is well coloured,” said I.
“Will you take a cigar?” said he.
I took it and held it up unlighted. “Now,” said I, “you promise me.”
“I promise you you won’t have any trouble from natives that have drunk at my place,” he replied.
“That is all I ask,” said I, and showed it was not by immediately offering to try his stock.