"The people of George? Why, he must mean a subject of King George--an
Englishman."

"Yes, yes, Lady, an Englishman, like you," and he grinned at her. "Have
you any message for the Inkoos Hishmel?"

"Yes. Say to the Inkoos Ishmael or Lion-who-dwells-in-the-wilderness,
hates the Dutch and wears zebra-skin trousers, that my father and my
mother thank him very much for his present, and hope that his health is
good. Go. That is all."

The man grinned again, suspecting a joke, for the Zulus have a sense of
humour, then repeated the message word for word, trying to pronounce
Ishmael as Rachel did, saluted, mounted his horse, and galloped off after
his master.

"Perhaps you should have kept that Kaffir until your father came,"
suggested Mrs. Dove doubtfully.

"What was the good?" said Rachel. "He would only have asked Mr. Ishmael to
call in order that he might find out his religious opinions, and I don't
want to see any more of the man."

"Why not, Rachel?"

"Because I don't like him, mother. I think he is worse than any of the
rest down there, too bad to stop among them probably, and--" she added
with conviction, "I think we shall have more of his company than we want
before all is done. Oh! it is no good to say that I am prejudiced--I do,
and what is more, he came into our Garden of Eden and shot the buck. I