nothing serious," McDonald explained, "merely a touch of sun. They'll bring him round in a couple of days."
Even the dramatic episode of Said did not dull Zack's mind to the fact that something else had caught the Colonel's eye, a campaign badge, an other, another, dozens of them. One on every negro. The crowd looked like a Spottiswoode ratification meeting. The Colonel stared, and his face grew very red.
"Zack! You, Zack!" he shouted. "Where's that nigger?"
But Zack had darted away, and the tail of his apron was even now disappearing behind a tukul. McDonald sat down on the bench to laugh. Lyttleton leaned against the catfish stand and waved his hand at the grinning Shilluks. "Your constituents, my dear Colonel; you're elected, by an overwhelming majority."
"Make it unanimous," added McDonald, pinning a badge on Lyttleton and one upon himself.
While the Colonel stood staring at the tukul behind which Old Reliable had vanished, McDonald called a Shilluk's attention to the face of the portrait, and pointed to Colonel Spottiswoode himself. A great light burst upon those negroes. Every negro examined his own badge, then scanned the White Effendi's face. It was HE, verily it was HE. They stood in The Presence.
