Presently a decently dressed, white-bearded man of light
complexion announced himself, with a flourish and a loud call for
a chair, as Prince Koyala, alias "Young Prince," father to
Forteune and Hotaloya and brother to Roi Denis,--here all
tribesmen are of course brethren. This being equivalent to
"asking for more," it drove me to the limits of my patience. It
was evidently now necessary to assume wrath, and to raise my
voice to a roar.

"My hands dey be empty! I see nuffin, I hear nuffin! What for I
make more dash?"

Allow me, parenthetically, to observe that the African, like the
Scotch Highlander, will interpose the personal or demonstrative
pronoun between noun and verb: "sun he go down," means "the sun
sets" and, as genders do not exist, you must be careful to say,
"This woman he cry too much."

The justice of my remark was owned by all; had it been the height
of tyranny, the supple knaves would have agreed with me quite as
politely. They only replied that "Young Prince," being a man of
years and dignity, would be dishonoured by dismissal empty-
handed, and they represented him as my future host when we moved
nearer the bush.

"Now lookee here. This he be bad plabba (palaver). This he be
bob! I come up for white man, you come up for black man. All
white man he no be fool, 'cos he no got black face!"