that Z. was forthwith to be summoned to take his trial. And so it proved; Z. was sent for, and as the cause was to be tried in Sechuana, Jan Mahura was appointed to act as interpreter. The trial was of short duration, and Z. was adjudged guilty. Menon’s sentence was somewhat remarkable; it was to the effect that it did not matter whether the white man had really shot the Makalaka or not; it did not matter whether the gun had or had not gone off accidentally; the white man must make compensation, both to the dead man’s relatives and to himself, the dead man’s master.
Great was Z.’s alarm; his face turned crimson; he trembled with agitation; he began to assert his innocence with such volubility that Jan Mahura in vain tried to keep pace with him. At last, finding that the defendant was only damaging his own case, the interpreter took up the matter independently, and argued with such good effect, that in spite of the outcry of the relations of the deceased, Menon ruled that a fine should be inflicted, consisting of a coloured woollen shirt, a blanket, and seven pocket-handkerchiefs, instead of the musket and ammunition and the lot of woollen goods he had intended to demand. He insisted, moreover, that the shirt should fall to his own lot as arbitrator; and as soon as he received it, he doubled it up and was walking away quite content. But the relations were not to be pacified quite so easily; they flung the blanket and the handkerchiefs down before Z.’s feet, and abusing him vehemently as a murderer, made such an outcry that Menon was obliged to come back. Jan Mahura’s tact again proved adequate to the occasion. He whispered to Z. that he should offer blanket and
