My greetings to the honest man the merchant. I hope you have slept
well I am telling you that I have not seen you for a long time and
it is my intention of coming to see how you get on. I am well and
my wife is well. Now I must close my letter.
Your friend,
GONYE.
The envelope bore the address:
Mr. Shiler, Esq.,
The Merchant.
The letter was duly delivered at the hatch. Schiller pretended to read
it and said there was no answer.
As a rule he brought his letters to be read by my native clerk, but I
had taken him with me on my tour.
If the Cattle King was surprised when the headman pushed open the hatch
shutter and looked in, he did not show it.
He glanced up from his draught-board impatiently, frowned at the
interruption, and turned to the game again. He was playing self versus
self, and self was giving self no end of a tussle.
"Good-day to you, Merchant."
"Good-day, Gonye."
"I hope you have slept well?"
"Yes, and you?"
"Oh, yes, I have slept very well, thank you, Merchant."
Silence fell upon the pair, and the game of self _v._ self proceeded.
"Huff you for not taking me here," muttered Schiller.
"Crown me, please," replied Schiller.
"What are you doing, honest man?" asked Gonye.
"Yes," replied the merchant abstractedly.
"You do not trade now, Merchant."
"No, your Chief has closed my store."
"Will you tell the Commissioner?"
"Of course."
"What will he do?"
"The Chief and you will know what he will do when he does it."
"What are you doing now, honest man?" asked Gonye, and added--"May I
come in?"
"Yes, if you don't talk or touch the goods."
The trader got up and let the native in, but returned to his game
without ceremony.
Gonye walked round the piled-up counters and inspected the well-filled
shelves. Here were goods indeed. Goods worth many head of cattle.
Blankets, coloured print, calico, brass wire, beads, shirts, hats,
coats, sugar, jam, tobacco, pipes, knives, looking-glasses, mouth
organs, and goodness knows what besides.
Seeing all these nice new things created many wants in the headman's
heart. But the Chief had closed the store.
Gonye wandered back to where the trader sat and watched him.
With a shout of triumph, self beat self by two kings. Schiller
rearranged the board for another contest.
"Is it a game?" asked Gonye.
"Yes, it's a game."
"Is it a very hard game?"
"Very hard."
"Did it take you long to learn?"
"Years and years."
"Could I learn it?"
The trader sat back in his chair and looked fixedly at the native. "You
might," he said.
"Will you teach me?"
"I will try to; bring up that chair and sit down."
The rest of the afternoon was spent by Schiller initiating Gonye into
the mysteries of draughts.
Next day the native came again.
"I think I can play now, Merchant."
"Do you? Well, you take black and I will play with white."
Schiller won, with a loss of scarcely a man.
"Try again, Gonye."
Schiller played a cunning game, so the native made a slightly better
showing next time. The third game he did better still. The fourth game
he won.
That was the only game of draughts he ever did win against the trader.
In his triumph the headman persuaded the Chief to declare the store
reopened. The merchant was a good man. He was indeed an honest man. His
cattle kraal was empty. What would they say to the Commissioner on his
return? The trader would of course complain. Moreover, the store was
full of very nice goods.
The next morning the store was opened and the natives flocked to it with
their cattle. Schiller did a great trade, and bought more cattle in a
week than all the other traders combined had done in three months.
Gonye felt rather sore as the merchant declared that he was now too busy
trading to play draughts. However, Schiller, who was no fool, made his
position of Cattle King secure by presenting the board and men to Gonye.
The last I heard of Schiller was at the outbreak of the Great War. He
had joined the Force which set out to take German South-West Africa.