Our own Brown of Lumbwa produced a stone crock of Irish whisky from a basket, imbibed copiously, offered us in turn the glistening neck, looked relieved at our refusal, and grew voluble.
"Hear them Greeks an' that Goa.

You'd think they were gentlemen o' breeding to hear 'em carryin' on! Truth is we've no government worth a moment's consid'ration, an' everybody knows it, Greeks included! You men lookin' for farms?
Take your time! Once you get a farm, an' get your house built, an' stock bought, an' stuff planted--once you've got your capital invested so to speak, they've got you! Till then you're free! Till then they'll maybe treat you with consideration! Till then you leave the country when you like an' kiss yourselves good-by to them an' Africa.

Till then they've got no hold! The courts can fine you, maybe, but can they make you pay?
It's none so easy if you're half awake! But take me: Suppose I break a reggylation.

What happens?
They know where to find me--how much I've got--where it is--an' if I don't pay the fine, they come an' collar my cattle an' sticks! D'you notice any Greeks applyin' for farms?
Not no crowds of 'em you don't! I don't know one single Greek who has a farm in all East Africa! Any Goas?
Not a bit of it! Any Indians?
Not one! So when a few extry elephants get shot, I get the blame--down at Lumbwa, where there ain't no elephants; an' the Greeks, Goas, Arabs an' Indians get fat on the swag! It's easy to keep track of a white man; the natives all know him, an' his name, an' where he lives, an' report everything he does to the nearest gov'ment officer.

But Greeks an' Goas an' Indians an' Arabs ain't white, so the natives make no mention of 'em.