I put my pipe into my mouth and began to hunt for my tobacco, taking the opportunity to show the hilt of my revolver, so that these men might see that I was armed.

It was not to be found, I had left it in the wagon.
"If you smoke Boer tobacco," said the stranger, "I can help you," and I noted that the voice was as pleasant as the face, and knew at once that the owner of it was a gentleman.
"Thank you, Sir.

I never smoke anything else," I answered, whereon he produced from his trousers pocket a pouch made of lion skin of unusually dark colour.
"I never saw a lion as black as this, except once beyond Buluwayo on the borders of Lobengula's country," I said by way of making conversation.
"Curious," answered the stranger, "for that's where I shot the brute a few months ago.

I tried to keep the whole skin but the white ants got at it." "Been trading up there ?" I asked.
"Nothing so useful," he said.

"Just idling and shooting.