White teeth suddenly appear from nowhere.

It is for bread and tin-meats they clamour, and they are willing to pay.
But a loaf costs a shilling.

Everything costs a shilling here, unless it costs half-a-crown; and Natal grows fat on war.

A shilling for a bit of bread! What is the good of Christianity?
So the dusky hands are withdrawn, and the poor Zulu with untutored maw goes starving on.

But if any still doubt our primitive ancestry, let them hear that Zulu's outcries of pain, or watch the fortunate man who has really got a loaf, and gripping it with both hands, gnaws it in his corner, turning his suspicious eyes to right and left with fear.
The air is full of wild rumours.