like to oblige her, I can't bury
you because it has been prophesied to me that on the day you are buried,
I shall be buried also, and that therefore you must be kept alive."

"Capital notion that, Major," said Jeekie, much relieved. "She not want
bury you just at present; next year perhaps, but not now. I tell him."
And he did with much vigour.

This slight misconception having been disposed of, they explained to the
carpenters what was wanted. First, all the gold was emptied out of the
sacks in which it remained as the priests had brought it, and divided
into heaps, each of which weighed about forty pounds, a weight that
with its box Alan considered would be a good load for a porter. Of these
heaps there proved to be fifty-three, their total value, Alan reckoned,
amounting to about L100,000 sterling. Then the carpenters were set to
work to make a model box, which they did quickly enough and with great
ingenuity, cutting the wood with their native saws, dovetailing it as
a civilized craftsman would do, and finally securing it everywhere with
ebony pegs, driven into holes which they bored with a hot iron. The
result was a box that would stand any amount of rough usage and when
finally pegged down, one that could only be opened with a hammer and a
cold chisel.

This box-making went on for two whole days. As each of them was filled
and pegged down, the gold within being packed in sawdust to keep it from
rattling, Alan amused himself in adding an address with a feather brush
and a supply of red paint such as the Asiki priests used to decorate
their bodies. At first he was puzzled to know what address to put, but
finally decided upon the following:

_Major A. Vernon, care of Miss Champers, The Court, near Kingswell,
England._ Adding in the corner, _From A. V., Asiki Land, Africa._

It was all childish enough, he knew, yet when it was done he regarded
his handiwork with a sort of satisfaction. For, reflected Alan, if but
one of those boxes should chance to get through to England, it would
tell Barbara a great deal, and if it were addressed to himself, her
uncle could scarcely dare to take possession of it.

Then he bethought him of sending a letter, but was obliged to abandon
the idea, as he had neither pen, pencil, ink, nor paper left to him.
Whatever arts remained to them, that of any form of writing was now
totally unknown to the Asiki, although marks that might be writing, it
will be remembered, did appear on the i