plowmen are breaking ground for new seed. Nobody ever saw all that work going on at once. It's a wonderful country. I have more than half a notion to stay another year."
"Lawd Gawd, Cunnel!" Zack let out a yelp of protest and terror.
"What's the matter, Zack?" The Colonel laughed merrily as a boy, for the planting spirit was strong upon him.
Neither of the Britishers gave way to hilarities; cotton pioneering in the Sudan was not a joke. Mr. Bim looked especially solemn; and said, "Your cotton has grown marvelously, Colonel. But the labor? Zack, do you think these laborers are satisfied?"
"Naw suh, Mister Bim. Tain't nary nigger on dis place would show up to-morrer mornin' ef dat ole king feller didn't make 'em not—nary one."
"I'm afraid that's true," McDonald assented; "and the king knows it. Next year he'll demand more than it would cost us to hire skilled labor, say from America."
This was McDonald's favorite mirage, the colonization of American negroes in the Sudan. "Zack, could you get four hundred of your friends to come over here?"
"Dey ain't comin', Mister Bim; an' ef us fotch 'em, dey wouldn't stay. An' ef dey stayed, dey wouldn't be no count."
