The news of his return spread quickly and several officials dropped in
for a "sundowner." Headquarters news, dull and trivial as it usually is,
was quickly disposed of. The Browns had gone home on leave, Jones had
just come back, and Robinson had passed the law exam very well. A lion
had been heard outside the township, and a mad cur had run amok through
the compounds and, as a result, several good dogs had been shot and half
a dozen natives sent south for treatment.
What sport had the Commissioner had?
On the whole, bad; he had missed a black-maned lion in a patch of bush
near the river, and as the beast slipped through to the main forest he
didn't bother to follow. He had, however, bagged a small leopard and two
full-grown cheetahs. There were plenty of birds and buck about and, oh,
yes, he had killed a bad old buffalo bull who nearly turned the tables
on him. After listening to the details of the adventure, the visitors
rose to leave.
No, he would not join them at the Club later, he felt tired and was
looking forward to a comfortable bed for a change.
The Commissioner dined alone and turned in early.
In the morning he woke with a start. It was late, nearly eight o'clock;
what the deuce were his people about?
He jumped out of bed and went to the bath-room. The bath was not set
ready. He called to his boy. There was no answer. He slipped on a
dressing gown and went to the kitchen. It was empty, the fire was not
even lighted. He went back to the house for a pair of slippers and a hat
and walked across to the native compound. By this time he was very
angry.
To his amazement, the compound was quite empty. On his way back he
looked in at the stable. His horses whinnied: they had not been fed, nor
had the stable been cleaned. He fed the horses himself and then walked
over to the cattle kraal. His half-dozen cows had not been milked.
At that moment the Magistrate came up.
"What's the matter with the natives?"
"I don't know, why?"
"Not a black soul in the township will do a hand's turn."
"Mine aren't here."
"Is there going to be a rising?"
"Certainly not. You people who live in camp are always expecting
risings."
"Well, you know best, of course, but the boys refuse to work. They say
Lizizi has told them not to."
"Who's Lizizi?"
"How should I know? I came to ask you that."
"Never heard of him."
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know yet. Send some of your people down to me, mine have made
themselves scarce."
"Right, but what are you going to do to them?"
"Nothing, of course, except question them."
"I'll send my two house boys down."
"Send your cook as well."
"Why my cook?"
"Because I haven't had my breakfast yet."
"Well, neither have I for that matter."
"Then you had better come with them, we'll have breakfast all right."
The Magistrate went away and the Commissioner returned to his house to
dress.
He hated having no bath; he disliked, too, going without breakfast.
Discomfort on a journey he thought nothing of, but discomfort in his own
home was ridiculous.
When the Commissioner emerged from his room, dressed but unshaven, and
in a very bad temper, he found his head native in the hall and the rest
of the servants standing on the verandah.
"We wish to speak with you," said the boy.
"I, too, have something to say."
"We cannot work to-day. To-morrow we will work."
"You will work to-day and now."
"No, Morena, we cannot work to-day, to-morrow we will work well."
"Why can't you work to-day?"
"Because Lizizi says we may not work to-day."
"Who's Lizizi?"
"A great doctor."
"Where is he?" said the Commissioner, looking round.
"No, he is not here, Morena, he lives on the Zambesi. He sent his man
with a message yesterday."
"Was that the messenger I saw in the compound?"
"Yes, Morena."
"Where is he?"
"He has gone."
"Where?"
"He did not say where he was going. He told us he must carry the
master's messages."
"What are the messages?"
"No man may work for his master to-day."
"What are the others?"
"That is all he said to us."
"Have you eaten this morning?"
"Yes, Morena."
"Then bring breakfast for the Magistrate and me, and quickly."
"But, Morena--"
"Well?"
"I may not work to-day."
"Breakfast is food, not work. Bring it."
"Yes, Morena."
The boy went out. The Commissioner turned to the rest of his servants.
"You won't work to-day?"