"

"Go to the devil!" said Hamilton, cheerfully. "The palaver is finished."

Later, he watched Idigi--so humble a man that he never travelled with
more than four paddlers--winding his slow way up stream--and Hamilton
was not laughing.

He went back to his canvas chair before the Residency, and sat for half
an hour, alternately pinching and rubbing his bare arms--he was in his
shirt sleeves--in a reverie which was not pleasant.

Here Lieutenant Augustus Tibbetts, returning from an afternoon's
fishing, with a couple of weird-looking fish as his sole catch, found
him and would have gone on with a little salute.

"Bones!" called Hamilton, softly.

Bones swung round. "Sir!" he said stiffly.

"Come off your horse, Bones," coaxed Hamilton.

"Not me," replied Bones; "I've finished with you, dear old fellow; as an
officer an' a gentleman you've treated me rottenly--you have, indeed.
Give me an order--I'll obey it. Tell me to lead a forlorn hope or go to
bed at ten--I'll carry out instructions accordin' to military law, but
outside of duty you're a jolly old rotter. I'm hurt, Ham, doocidly hurt.
I think----"

"Oh shut up and sit down!" interrupted his chief, irritably. "You jaw
and jaw till my head aches."

Reluctantly Lieutenant Tibbetts walked back, depositing his catch with
the greatest care on the ground.

"What on earth have you got there?" asked Hamilton, curiously.

"I don't know whether it's cod or turbot," said the cautious Bones, "but
I'll have 'em cooked and find out."

Hamilton grinned. "To be exact, they're catfish, and poisonous," he
said, and whistled his orderly. "Oh, Ahmet," he said in Arabic, "take
these fish and throw them away."

Bones fixed his monocle, and his eyes followed his catch till they were
out of sight.

"Of course, sir," he said with resignation, "if you like to commandeer
my fish it's not for me to question you."

"I'm a little worried, Bones," began Hamilton.

"A conscience, sir," said Bones, smugly, "is a pretty rotten thing for a
feller to have. I remember years ago----"

"There's a little unrest up there"--Hamilton waved his hand towards the
dark green forest, sombre in the shadows of the evening--"a palaver I
don't quite get the hang of. If I could only trust you, Bones!"

Lieutenant Tibbetts rose. He readjusted his monocle and stiffened
himself to attention--a heroic pose which invariably accompanied his
protests. But Hamilton gave him no opportunity.

"Anyway, I ha