“Hans, I think that just now you are better able to lend me a pound than I am to lend one to you. My bag is empty, Hans.” “Is it so, Baas? Well, it does not matter. If necessary I can make baskets for the great white Queen to put her food in, for fourteen days, or mats on which she will wipe her feet. The _trunk_ is not such a bad place, Baas. It gives time to think of the white man’s justice and to thank the Great One in the Sky, because the little sins one did not do have been found out and punished, while the big sins one did do, such as—well, never mind, Baas—have not been found out at all. Your reverend father, the Predikant, always taught me to have a thankful heart, Baas, and when I remember that I have only been in the _trunk_ for three months altogether who, if all were known, ought to have been there for years, I remember his words, Baas.” “Why should you go to the _trunk_ at all, Hans, when you are rich and can pay a fine, even if it were a hundred pounds?” “A month or two ago it is true I was rich, Baas, but now I am poor. I have nothing left except ten shillings.” “Hans,” I said severely, “you have been gambling again; you have been drinking again. You have sold your property and your cattle to pay your gambling debts and to buy square-face gin.” “Yes, Baas, and for no good it seems; though it is not true that I have been drinking. I sold the land and the cattle for £650, Baas, and with the money I bought other things.” “What did you buy?” I said. He fumbled first in one pocket of his coat and then in the other, and ultimately produced a crumpled and dirty-looking piece of paper that resembled a bank-note. I took and examined this document and next minute nearly fainted. It certified that Hans was the proprietor of I know not how many debentures or shares, I forget which they were, in the Bona Fide Gold Mine, Limited, that same company of which I was the unlucky chairman, in consideration for which he had paid a sum of over six hundred and fifty pounds. “Hans,” I said feebly, “from whom did you buy this?” “From the baas with the hooked nose, Baas. He who was named Jacob, after the great man in the Bible of whom your father, the Predikant, used to tell us, that one who was so slim and dressed himself up in a goatskin and gave his brother mealie porridge when he was hungry, after he had come in from shooting buck, Baas, and got his farm and cattle, Baas, and then went to Heaven up a ladder, Baas.” “And who told you to buy them, Hans?”