Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland

that would give their masters and mistresses the right tohave their servants flogged whenever they did anything they didn't like;but the other Englishmen wouldn't let him pass it. But here he can dowhat he likes. That's the reason some fellows don't want him to besent away. They say, 'If we get the British Government here, they'll begiving the niggers land to live on; and let them have the vote, and getcivilised and educated, and all that sort of thing; but Cecil Rhodes,he'll keep their noses to the grindstone.' 'I prefer land to niggers,'he says. They say he's going to parcel them out, and make them work onour lands whether they like it or not--just as good as having slaves,you know: and you haven't the bother of looking after them when they'reold. Now, there I'm with Rhodes; I think it's an awfully good move. Wedon't come out here to work; it's all very well in England; but we'vecome here to make money, and how are we to make it, unless you getniggers to work for you, or start a syndicate? He's death on niggers,is Rhodes!" said Peter, meditating; "they say if we had the BritishGovernment here and you were thrashing a nigger and something happened,there'd be an investigation, and all that sort of thing. But, withCecil, it's all right, you can do what you like with the niggers,provided you don't get HIM into trouble."

  The stranger watched the clear flame as it burnt up high in the stillnight air; then suddenly he started.

  "What is it?" said Peter; "do you hear anything?"

  "I hear far off," said the stranger, "the sound of weeping, and thesound of blows. And I hear the voices of men and women calling to me."

  Peter listened intently. "I don't hear anything!" he said. "It must bein your head. I sometimes get a noise in mine." He listened intently."No, there's nothing. It's all so deadly still."

  They sat silent for a while.

  "Peter Simon Halket," said the stranger suddenly--Peter started; he hadnot told him his second name--"if it should come to pass that you shouldobtain those lands you have desired, and you should obtain black men tolabour on them and make to yourself great wealth; or should you createthat company"--Peter started--"and fools should buy from you, so thatyou became the richest man in the land; and if you should take toyourself wide lands, and raise to yourself great palaces, so thatprinces and great men of earth crept up to you and laid their handsagainst yours, so that you might slip gold into them--what would itprofit you?"

  "Profit!" Peter Halket stared: "Why, it would profit everything.What makes Beit and Rhodes and Barnato so great? If you've got eightmillions--"

  "Peter Simon Halket, which of those souls you have seen on earth is toyou greatest?" said the stranger, "Which soul is to you fairest?"

  "Ah," said Peter, "but we weren't talking of souls at all; we weretalking of money. Of course if it comes to souls, my mother's the bestperson I've ever seen. But what does it help her? She's got to standwashing clothes for those stuck-up nincompoops of fine ladies! Wait tillI've got money! It'll be somebody else then, who--"

  "Peter Halket," said the stranger, "who is the greatest; he who servesor he who is served?" Peter looked at the stranger: then it flashed onhim that he was mad.

  "Oh," he said, "if it comes to that, what's anything! You might as wellsay, sitting there in your old linen shirt, that you were as great asRhodes or Beit or Barnato, or a king. Of course a man's just the samewhatever he's got on or whatever he has; but he isn't the same to otherpeople."

  "There have kings been born in stables," said the stranger.

  Then Peter saw that he was joking, and laughed. "It must have been along time ago; they don't get born there now," he said. "Why, if GodAlmighty came to this country, and hadn't half-a-million in shares, theywouldn't think much of Him."

  Peter built up his fire. Suddenly he felt the stranger's eyes were fixedon him.

  "Who gave you your land?" the stranger asked.

  "Mine! Why, the Chartered Company," said Peter.

  The stranger looked back into the fire. "And who gave it to them?" heasked softly.

  "Why, England, of course. She gave them the land to far beyond theZambezi to do what they liked with, and make as much money out of asthey could, and she'd back 'em."

  "Who gave the land to the men and women of England?" asked the strangersoftly.

  "Why, the devil! They said it was theirs, and of course it was," saidPeter.

  "And the people of the land: did England give you the people also?"

  Peter looked a little doubtfully at the stranger. "Yes, of course, shegave us the people; what use would the land have been to us otherwise?"

  "And who gave her the people, the living flesh and blood, that she mightgive them away, into the hands of others?" asked the stranger, raisinghimself.

  Peter looked at him and was half afeared. "Well, what could she do witha lot of miserable niggers, if she didn't give them to us? A lot ofgood-for-nothing rebels they are, too," said Peter.

  "What is a rebel?" asked the stranger.

  "My Gawd!" said Peter, "you must have lived out of the world if youdon't know what a rebel is! A rebel is a man who fights against his kingand his country. These bloody niggers here are rebels because they arefighting against us. They don't want the Chartered Company to have them.But they'll have to. We'll teach them a lesson," said Peter Halket, thepugilistic spirit rising, firmly reseating himself on the South Africanearth, which two years before he had never heard of, and eighteen monthsbefore he had never seen, as if it had been his mother earth, and theland in which he first saw light.

  The stranger watched the fire; then he said musingly, "I have seen aland far from here. In that land are men of two kinds who live side byside. Well nigh a thousand years ago one conquered the other; they havelived together since. Today the one people seeks to drive forth theother who conquered them. Are these men rebels, too?"

  "Well," said Peter, pleased at being deferred to, "that all depends whothey are, you know!"

  "They call the one nation Turks, and the other Armenians," said thestranger.

  "Oh, the Armenians aren't rebels," said Peter; "they are on ourside! The papers are all full of it," said Peter, pleased to show hisknowledge. "Those bloody Turks! What right had they to conquer theArmenians? Who gave them their land? I'd like to have a shot at themmyself!"

  "WHY are Armenians not rebels?" asked the stranger, gently.

  "Oh, you do ask such curious questions," said Peter. "If they don'tlike the Turks, why should they have 'em? If the French came now andconquered us, and we tried to drive them out first chance we had; youwouldn't call us rebels! Why shouldn't they try to turn those bloodyTurks out? Besides," said Peter, bending over and talking in the mannerof one who imparts secret and important information; "you see, ifwe don't help the Armenians the Russians would; and we," said Peter,looking exceedingly knowing, "we've got to prevent that: they'd getthe land; and it's on the road to India. And we don't mean them to. Isuppose you don't know much about politics in Palestine?" said Peter,looking kindly and patronisingly at the stranger.

  "If these men," said the stranger, "would rather be free, or be underthe British Government, than under the Chartered Company, why, when theyresist the Chartered Company, are they more rebels than the Armenianswhen they resist the Turk? Is the Chartered Company God, that every kneeshould bow before it, and before it every head be bent? Would you, thewhite men of England, submit to its rule for one day?"

  "Ah," said Peter, "no, of course we shouldn't, but we are white men, andso are the Armenians--almost--" Then he glanced at the stranger's darkface, and added quickly, "At least, it's not the colour that matters,you know. I rather like a dark face, my mother's eyes are brown--but theArmenians, you know, they've got long hair like us."

  "Oh, it is the hair, then, that matters," said the stranger softly.

  "Oh, well," said Peter, "it's not altogether, of course. But it's quitea different thing, the Armenians wanting to get rid of the Turks,and these bloody niggers wanting to get rid of the Chartered Company.Besides, the Armenians are Christians, like us!"

  "Are YOU Christians?" A strange storm broke across the stranger'
sfeatures; he rose to his feet.

  "Why, of course, we are!" said Peter. "We're all Christians, we English.Perhaps you don't like Christians, though? Some Jews don't, I know,"said Peter, looking up soothingly at him.

  "I neither love nor