In vain Kazimoto assured him that we had dozens of guns “at home”—­that Fred’s landed possessions were so vast that two hundred strong men walking for a month would be unable to march across them—­that Fred’s wives (Fred seemed to live under a cloud of sexual scandal in those days) were so many in number they had to be counted twice a day to make sure none was missing.

The chief had eighteen wives of his own to show.  He could prove his matrimonial felicity.  Why had Fred left his behind?  How did he dare?  Who looked after them?  Had he left the guns behind to guard the women?  Why did such a rich man travel without food for his men?  The chief had seen us with his own eyes devour porridge as if we were starving.

To have told him the truth would have been worse than useless.  To have mentioned such a thing as shipwreck would only have stirred the savage instinct to prey off all unfortunates.  Failing evidence of wealth in our possession, the only feasible plan was to claim so much that he might believe some of it, and it was Coutlass, drawing a bow at a venture, who ordered Kazimoto to tell him that we expected a party in a few days bringing tents, provisions and more guns.

“There will be blue-and-white beads of the sort you long for among those loads,” added Kazimoto on his own account; and that eased the chief’s mind for the night.  Fred gave him a half-rupee, and promised him to exchange it when the loads should come for as many of the beads as he could seize in his two fists.  The chief went out to brag to the village, opening and closing his fists to see how huge their compass was; and later that night his wives had to be beaten for fighting.  They were jealous because the fattest and the youngest new one had both been promised double shares.

There was another fight because our porters emerged from their hut and demanded that a barren cow out of the village herd be butchered.  They made their meaning perfectly clear by taking the cow by the horns and tail and throwing her on her back.  Fred decided that argument with a thick stick about four feet long.

The unusual spectacle of some one taking sides against his own men, whatever the rights or wrongs of it, so affected the chief that he entered our hut next morning disposed to hold us up for double promises of beads.  It was evident we had to deal with a born extortioner.  He would increase his demands with every fresh concession.

“Oh, what’s the odds!” laughed Coutlass.  “Promise him anything!  The only loads likely to come along this way for a year or two are Schillingschen’s!”

Fred told the chief he would think the matter over, and chased him out of the hut.  Coutlass had given us all a new idea in an instant, and he was the only one who did not see its point—­he, the only one who did not give a snap of the fingers for the laws of any land!

“D’you suppose—­”

“Too good to hope for!”