ve to trust you, Bones," he said, "whether I like it or
not. You get ready to clear out. Take twenty men and patrol the river
between the Isisi and the Akasava."

In as few words as possible he explained the legend of the N'bosini. "Of
course, there is no such place," he said; "it is a mythical land like
the lost Atlantis--the home of the mysterious and marvellous tribes,
populated by giants and filled with all the beautiful products of the
world."

"I know, sir," said Bones, nodding his head. "It is like one of those
building estate advertisements you read in the American papers:
Young-man-go-west-an'-buy-Dudville Corner Blocks----"

"You have a horrible mind," said Hamilton. "However, get ready. I will
have steam in the _Zaire_ against your departure."

"There is one thing I should like to ask you about," said Bones,
standing hesitatingly first on one leg and then on the other. "I think
I have told you before that I have tickets in a Continental sweepstake.
I should be awfully obliged----"

"Go away!" snarled Hamilton.

Bones went cheerfully enough.

He loved the life on the _Zaire_, the comfort of Sanders' cabin, the
electric reading lamp and the fine sense of authority. He would stand
upon the bridge for hours, with folded arms and impassive face, staring
ahead as the oily waters moved slowly under the bow of the
stern-wheeler. Now and again he would turn to give a fierce order to the
steersman or to the patient Yoka, the squat black _Krooman_ who knew
every inch of the river, and who stood all the time, his hand upon the
lever of the telegraph ready to "slow" at the first sign of a new
sand-bank.

For, in parts, the river was less than two or three feet deep and the
bed was constantly changing. The sounding boys, who stood on the bow of
the steamer, whirling their long canes and singing the depth
monotonously, would shout a warning cry, but long before their lips had
framed a caution, Yoka would have pulled the telegraph over to "stop."
His eyes would have detected the tiny ripple on the waters ahead which
denoted a new "bank."

To Bones, the river was a deep, clear stream. He had no idea as to the
depth and never troubled to inquire. These short, stern orders of his
that he barked to left and right from time to time, nobody took the
slightest notice of, and Bones would have been considerably embarrassed
if they had. Observing that the steamer was tacking from shore to shore,
a proceeding which, to Bone