his
words were few and bald, he was so unaccustomed to take others into his
confidence, that when he did so, ever so little, and in that tone, it
seemed that he was putting his hearers under a singular obligation.

'If things turn out all right, we shall come near finishing the job, and
there won't be much more slave-trading in this part of Africa.'

'And if things don't turn out all right?'

'Why then, I'm afraid the tea tables of Mayfair will be deprived of your
scintillating repartee for ever.'

Walker looked down at the ground. Strange thoughts ran through his head,
and when he looked up again, with a shrug of the shoulders, there was a
queer look in his eyes.

'Well, I've not had a bad time in my life,' he said slowly. 'I've loved
a little, and I've worked and played. I've heard some decent music, I've
looked at nice pictures, and I've read some thundering fine books. If I
can only account for a few more of those damned scoundrels before I die,
I shouldn't think I had much to complain of.'

Alec smiled, but did not answer. A silence fell upon them. Walker's
words brought to Alec the recollection of what had caused the trouble
which now threatened them, and his lips tightened. A dark frown settled
between his eyes.

'Well, I suppose I'd better go and get things straight,' said the
doctor. 'I'll do what I can with those fellows and trust to Providence
that they'll stand the jolting.'

'What about Perkins?' asked Alec.

'Lord knows! I'll try and keep him quiet with choral.'

'You needn't say anything about our striking camp. I don't propose that
anyone should know till a quarter of an hour before we start.'

'But that won't give them time.'

'I've trained them often enough to get on the march quickly,' answered
Alec, with a curtness that allowed no rejoinder.

The doctor turned to go, and at the same moment George Allerton
appeared.

XI

George Allerton had changed since he left England. The flesh had fallen
away from his bones, and his face was sallow. He had not stood the
climate well. His expression had changed too, for there was a singular
querulousness about his mouth, and his eyes were shifty and cunning. He
had lost his good looks.

'Can I come in?' he said.

'Yes,' answered Alec, and then turning to the doctor: 'You might stay a
moment, will you?'

'Certainly.'

Adamson stood where he was, with his back to the flap that closed the
tent. Alec looked up quickly.

'Didn't Seli