black man who has been in Guv’ment service go away without hundreds an’ hundreds put by--and never touched? You mark that. Money! The place stinks o’ money--just kept out o’ sight. Do you ever know a native that didn’t say _Garib admi_? They’ve been sayin’ _Garib admi_ so long that the Guv’ment learns to believe ’em, and now they’re all bein’ treated as though they was paupers. I’m a pauper, an’ you’re a pauper--we ’aven’t got anything hid in the ground--an’ so’s every white man in this forsaken country. But the Injian he’s a rich man. How do I know? Because I’ve tramped on foot, or warrant pretty well from one end of the place to the other, an’ I know what I’m talkin’ about, and this ere Guv’ment goes peckin’ an’ fiddlin’ over its tuppenny-ha’penny little taxes as if it was afraid. Which it is. You see how they do things in ----. It’s six sowars here, and ten sowars there, and--‘Pay up, you brutes, or we’ll pull your ears over your head.’ And when they’ve taken all they can get, the headman, he says:--‘This is a dashed poor yield. I’ll come again.’ _Of course_ the people digs up something out of the ground, and they pay. I know the way it’s done, and that’s the way to do it. You can’t go to an Injian an’ say:--‘Look here. Can you pay me five rupees?’ He says:--‘_Garib admi_,’ of course, an’ would say it if he was as rich as a banker. But if you send half a dozen sowars at him and shift the thatch off of his roof, he’ll pay. Guv’ment can’t do that. I don’t suppose it could. There is no reason why it shouldn’t. But it might do something like it, to show that it wasn’t going to have no nonsense. Why, I’d undertake to raise a hundred million--what am I talking of?--a hundred and fifty million pounds from this country _per annum_, and it wouldn’t be strained _then_. One hundred and fifty millions you could raise as easy as paint, if you just made these ere Injians understand that they had to pay an’ make no bones about it. It’s enough to make a man sick to go in over yonder to ---- and see what they do; and then come back an’ see what we do. Perfectly sickenin’ it is. Borrer money! Why the country could pay herself an’ everything she wants, if she was only made to do it. It’s this bloomin’ _Garib admi_ swindle that’s been going on all these years, that has made fools o’ the Guv’ment.” Then he became egoistical, this ragged ruffian who conceived that he knew the road to illimitable wealth, and told the story of his life, interspersed with anecdotes that would blister the paper they were written on. But through all his ravings, he stuck to his hundred-and-fifty-million-theory, and though the listener dissented from him and the brutal cruelty with which his views were stated, an unscientific impression remained and was not to be shaken off. Across the Border one feels that the country is being used, exploited, “made to sit up,” so to speak. In our territories the feeling is equally strong of wealth “just round the corner,” as the