I first met him when he made application for a cattle trading licence at
my office: this was many years ago.
As, in those days, we could issue or withhold a licence at discretion, I
questioned Schiller closely.
He didn't look like the ordinary Jew. By that I mean he hadn't a
pronounced nose: on the contrary, it was small and snubby. He told me he
was a Jew, I should not have guessed it.
He wore a long row of medal ribbons and, in support of his claim to
them, produced discharge papers from every irregular force raised in
Africa during the last twenty years.
I read the papers carefully and could but conclude that the little man
who applied for a licence was a confirmed fire-eater and a very gallant
soldier.
No camp follower he. His medals were earned and at the cost of not a few
wounds. I later saw these honourable scars.
I gave him his licence and asked him to sign an undertaking designed to
control certain undesirable activities in which it was just possible he
might wish to indulge.
He couldn't write his name. A large X with a few unnecessary blots
thrown in adorned the record of his promise. He never broke his word: in
fact that man's word was his bond in the truest sense.
I have always found that an illiterate man is a much more rapid learner
than one who keeps a note book. The one relies upon his memory and so
strengthens it; the other discourages it by admitting its limitations.
He learnt the local dialect rapidly, and his pronunciation was quite
good. This gave him advantage over his rival traders.
Natives like to hear their language spoken by a white man, and, as
Schiller was a fluent talker, his company was much sought after.
He was a trading genius. Anything he had for sale soon became the rage
with the large native population. He got to know most of the great
ladies of the land. Knowing that great ladies, be they white or black,
set the fashions, he persuaded them to patronise his store and accept
long credit.
If this particular pattern of print did not generally commend itself to
the community, one of the important dames would shortly appear draped in
yards of it. If that coloured bead did not sell freely, a personage in
the Chief's household would soon be seen wearing string after string of
it.
But it was cattle he wanted, and cattle he got. So large did his herd of
fine beasts become that the Chief himself grew jealous, and issued a
warning to his people not to sell too freely.
Still the herd increased. The man dealt more fairly with the people than
the other traders, and, moreover, did not make the mistake of getting
upon too familiar terms with his customers.
During my absence on a tour of inspection a crisis arose. The Chief
forbade his people to have any further dealings with the Cattle King.
Schiller counted his gains, branded his cattle, and sent them south to
the rail-head for sale. Then he closed his store.
Just at this time a number of waggons arrived bearing many cases and
bales of new goods for him. These were off-loaded, unpacked, and
disappeared into the closed store.
Then Schiller made a hatch in the store door not unlike that of a
railway booking-office. He left the shutter ajar, but piled up goods in
front of all the windows. Black noses in plenty gathered against the
panes, but goods--goods everywhere--blocked a view of the interior of
the store.
Through the hatch Schiller could be seen mysteriously occupied. He had a
chequered board in front of him with many little discs of wood upon it.
He sat with eyes fixed on the board, and from time to time moved a disc.
He told all inquirers that his store had been closed by orders of the
Chief, and that he himself was very busy.
News of the trader's preoccupation spread about. Was he making medicine
with which to harm the people? Surely not; he was a kind little man.
Was he communicating in some strange way with the absent Commissioner?
That might be; better make sure.
The Chief became uneasy. At last he sent his principal headman to
inquire.
This headman had received some education at the Mission school, so he
wrote a polite letter to warn the trader of his coming.