Also later on I woke up, about midnight I think, and heard voices talking, one of which I reflected sleepily, sounded very like that of Footsack.
Waking very early, as is my habit, I peeped out of the wagon, and through the morning mist perceived Footsack in converse with a particularly villainous-looking person.

I at once concluded this must be Karl, evidently a Bastard compounded of about fifteen parts of various native bloods to one of white, who, to add to his attractions, was deeply scarred with smallpox and possessed a really alarming squint.

It seemed to me that Footsack handed to this man something that looked suspiciously like a bottle of squareface gin wrapped up in dried grass, and that the man handed back to Footsack some small object which he put in his mouth.
Now, I wondered to myself, what is there of value that one who does not eat sweets would stow away in his mouth.

Gold coin perhaps, or a quid of tobacco, or a stone.

Gold was too much to pay for a bottle of gin, tobacco was too little, but how about the stone?
What stone?
Who wanted stones?
Then suddenly I remembered that these people were said to come from Kimberley, and whistled to myself.