have a war like this to turn on and off."

Slowly the third man keeled round on to his stomach again: "Let
resignation wait. We fight the Matabele again tomorrow," he said,
sententiously.

A low titter ran round the group. Even the man under the bushes, though
his eyes were still closed and his arm across his face, let his mouth relax
a little, and showed his yellow teeth.

"I'm always expecting," said the big handsome man, "to have a paper come
round, signed by all the nigger chiefs, saying how much they love the
B.S.A. Company, and how glad they are the Panjandrum has got them, and how
awfully good he is to them; and they're going to subscribe to the brazen
statue. There's nothing a man can't be squared to do."

The third man lay on his back again, lazily examining his hand, which he
held above his face. "What's that in the Bible," he said, slowly, "about
the statue, whose thighs and belly were of brass, and its feet of mud?"

"I don't know much about the Bible," said the keen man, "I'm going to see
if my pot isn't boiling over. Won't yours burn?"

"No, I asked the Captain's boy to keep an eye on it--but I expect he won't.
Do you put the rice in with the mealies?"

"Got to; I've got no other pot. And the fellows don't object. It's a
tasty variety, you know!"

The keen-faced man slouched away across the square to where his fire burnt;