'It seems to me that some men have natures so crooked that with every
chance in the world to go straight, they can't manage it. The only thing
is to let them go to the devil as best they may.'

At that moment Alec MacKenzie came in. He was dripping with rain and
threw off his macintosh. His face lit up when he saw Walker and the
doctor. Adamson was an old and trusted friend, and he knew that on him
he could rely always.

'I've been going the round of the outlying sentries,' he said.

It was unlike him to volunteer even so trivial a piece of information,
and Adamson looked up at him.

'All serene?' he asked.

'Yes.'

Alec's eyes rested on the doctor as though he were considering something
strange about him. The doctor knew him well enough to suspect that
something very grave had happened, but also he knew him too well to
hazard an inquiry. Presently Alec spoke again.

'I've just seen a native messenger that Mindabi sent me.'

'Anything important?'

'Yes.'

Alec's answer was so curt that it was impossible to question him
further. He turned to Walker.

'How's the arm?'

'Oh, that's nothing. It's only a scratch.'

'You'd better not make too light of it. The smallest wound has a way of
being troublesome in this country.'

'He'll be all right in a day or two,' said the doctor.

Alec sat down. For a minute he did not speak, but seemed plunged in
thought. He passed his fingers through his beard, ragged now and longer
than when he was in England.

'How are the others?' he asked suddenly, looking at Adamson.

'I don't think Thompson can last till the morning.'

'I've just been in to see him.'

Thompson was the man who had been shot through the head and had lain
unconscious since the day before. He was an old gold-prospector, who had
thrown in his lot with the expedition against the slavers.

'Perkins of course will be down for several days longer. And some of the
natives are rather badly hurt. Those devils have got explosive bullets.'

'Is there anyone in great danger?'

'No, I don't think so. There are two men who are in a bad way, but I
think they'll pull through with rest.'

'I see,' said Alec, laconically.

He stared intently at the table, absently passing his hand across the
gun which Walker had left there.

'I say, have you had anything to eat lately?' asked Walker, presently.

Alec shook himself out of his meditation and gave the young man one of
his rare, bright smiles. It was plain tha