For a while neither of us said anything after the taciturn habit
of our people even on the veld, and indeed I was fully occupied
in listening to the truculent talk of a little party of mounted
Boers behind us. I put my pipe into my mouth and began to hunt
for my tobacco, taking the opportunity to show the hilt of my
revolver, so that these men might see that I was armed. It was
not to be found, I had left it in the wagon.

"If you smoke Boer tobacco," said the stranger, "I can help you,"
and I noted that the voice was as pleasant as the face, and knew
at once that the owner of it was a gentleman.

"Thank you, Sir. I never smoke anything else," I answered,
whereon he produced from his trousers pocket a pouch made of lion
skin of unusually dark colour.

"I never saw a lion as black as this, except once beyond Buluwayo
on the borders of Lobengula's country," I said by way of making
conversation.

"Curious," answered the stranger, "for that's where I shot the
brute a few months ago. I tried to keep the whole skin but the
white ants got at it."

"Been trading up there?" I asked.

"Nothing so useful," he said. "Just idling and shooting. Came
to this country because it was one of the very few I had never
seen, and have only been here a year. I think I have had about