"I kin ride plenty o' dese little ole roan ponies at home," he grumbled. Yet, not being seasoned to horseback, his feelings kept on being chafed by the nervous, wiry Abyssinian stallion; until old Zack finally climbed down as stiffly as a man with glass legs.
"It is a revelation, sir—a revelation," remarked the Colonel. "I never saw lands lie better—nor better lands."
"Oh, the land is all right enough; it is the people," Cameron spoke wearily. "We are at a standstill for lack of labor. I could put four thousand feddan in cultivation if we had labor. Beni Yeb needs two hundred hoe men and women; fifty plowmen; and two hundred others to do the grading. I could use five hundred men to-morrow,"
Colonel Spottiswoode laughed. "Better get Zack to hustle 'em up for you. Last fall he got me two carloads of negroes in two days."
"Sho did—sho did," Zack bobbed his head, and endorsed the Colonel's eulogy.
Cameron was Scotch and serious; he gazed thoughtfully at Zack and meant to consider the matter further when he got all the statistics. Then four dusty white men stepped upon the broad paved terrace and entered the house.
"Me for a tubbing," said McDonald.
