Perceval Gibbon

“ One heard movements, goings to and fro, the traffic of small beast life in the undergrowth; a parrot rent the peace with one raucous scream, and launched himself—a wedge of crude green—across the still air. Even the ground underfoot, baked and cracked with the oppression of the sun, became a theatre of minute activities, and insects threaded among the stems of the dry grass. ”

“ He waved the staring Kaffir porters to the fires and the company of his own Kaffirs, and led the way for Miss Gregory to the front of his tent, where his folding table stood ready for the evening meal. He shambled as he walked; there was nothing about him that was not vague and innocuous and amiable.
"Never could get used to eating my meals off the ground," he said. "A man must have some furniture. So I always carry a table and a chair." He made a sudden dive into his tent, and came out again with a collapsed chair in his hands. ”

“ From her pillow in the darkness of her tent, before she fell asleep. Miss Gregory heard the low rumble of his meditations as he walked to and fro under the paring of moon, and "Pity, too," reached her ears more than once. She was too tired for her regular nightly exercise with her diary and note-book, and postponed it till the morning. It was obvious that Silly Smith must go down in black and white in that copious record of Miss Gregory's experiences; she saw precious humanity in him for the book that was to come. Africa has always its novelties ”

“ It was impossible to connect him with law-breaking in the picturesque forms that the Coast affects; one could as easily have imagined a murderous baby. And yet, men do not take to the bush for matters of small moment. Miss Gregory gasped and gave it up.
"There is a man somewhere in Mozambique whom I had hoped to meet," she said, abandoning her attempt to eat the venison. "His name is Jeal—John Jeal. He was the son of a tenant of ours in Kent. Have you heard of him?"
Smith pondered. "Jeal," he repeated. ”

“ Miss Gregory shook her head. "This Inglez very bad man," sighed Lazaro. "Very bad, Missis; very rude. Better we go away."
He stopped there, and resumed the placing of the table equipment with jerking haste. Silly Smith had come out of his tent and was looking on agreeably.
"Young woman doing nicely?" he asked, with heavy politeness. "Yes? That's good. But it's-a mistake, you know—a mistake. Like giving soup and blankets to another man's tenantry. Bad form, bad form. ”

“ Wonderful how the old feudal spirit crops up, isn't it? Breed 'em carefully for three hundred years, give 'em tracts for their morals and pills for their digestion, and old Pirate Sm—Jeal, I mean—a man like Jeal is the result. ”

“ Silly Smith nodded. "I should n't wonder," he said. "You see, a woman has just got into camp and——"
Miss Gregory stepped round him as he stood before her, and the ring of Kaffirs opened out to make way. They were gathered about one of God's creatures, who crouched on the ground, with a face pressed into helpless hands, and uttered the slow, soul-shaking sobs of anguish she had heard in her tent. Miss Gregory halted in the middle of a stride and stared. It was a negro woman, foul with dust ”