"I watched his women crowd about him. One spread a blanket for his royal highness to sit on; two or more busied themselves getting the food together; one, parasol in hand, planted herself behind him to shield his precious head from the few sunbeams that filtered through the overhanging leaves, fanning him vigorously all the while. "With the serving of the meal and the uncorking of a bottle in which he kept what he called his 'private stock,' he gave me further details of his methods with the natives. When a chief was at war with another tribe, for instance, he would move into the first village he came to, spread his own tent and those of his wives, post his retainers, and then despatch one of his men to the other combatant, commanding a powwow the next morning. Everybody would come--everybody would talk, including himself, for he spoke Kinkongo and Bangala perfectly. Then when he had patched up their difficulties, he would distribute presents, get everybody drunk on palm wine, and would move on next day with a contribution of carriers from both tribes, adding with a wink, 'And the trick works every time.'" Herbert paused for a moment and his lips curled. "Now there's a specimen white man for you! To have expressed my disgust of his methods in the way I would have liked to do--and I can be pretty ugly at times--would, under the circumstances, have been impossible, although there was no question in my mind of his cruelty nor of his sublime selfishness. The world was his oyster and he opened it at his leisure. He knew as well as I did what would become of the women when he was through with them--that they would either be sold into slavery or eaten--and he knew, too, how many of those poor devils of carriers would go to their death, for the mortality among them is fearful--and yet none of it ever made the slightest impression on him. Now I could excuse that sort of thing in Tippoo Tib, whom I knew very well. He was a slave-trader and the most cruel ruffian that was ever let loose on the natives; but this man was an Anglo-Saxon, a graduate of a university, speaking French and German fluently, with a good mother, and sisters, and friends; a man whom you could no doubt find to-night perfectly dressed and heartily welcomed in a London club, or in the foyer of some theatre in Paris, for his father has since died and he has come into his property. And yet the environment and the absence of public opinion had reduced him to something worse than a savage, and so I say again, one can excuse a cannibal whose traditions and customs have known no change for centuries, but you cannot excuse a freebooter who goes back on every drop of decent blood in his veins."