n reality partly
attributable to natural litheness. For some time they smoked in silence,
subject to the influence of the dreamy tropic night. Across the river
some belated bird was calling continuously and cautiously for its mate.
At times the splashing movements of a crocodile broke the smooth silence
of the water. Overhead the air was luminous with that night-glow which
never speaks to the senses in latitudes above the teens.

There is something in man's nature that inclines him
sympathetically--almost respectfully--towards a mental inferior.
Moreover, the feeling, whatever it may be, is rarely, if ever, found in
women. A man does not openly triumph in victory, as do women. One sees
an easy victor--at lawn tennis, for instance--go to his vanquished foe,
wiping vigorously a brow that is scarcely damp, and explaining more
or less lamely how it came about. But the same rarely happens in the
"ladies' singles." What, to quote another instance, is more profound
than the contempt bestowed by the girl with the good figure upon her
who has no figure at all? Without claiming the virtue of a greater
generosity for the sex, one may, perhaps, assume that men learn by
experience the danger of despising any man. The girl with the
good figure is sometimes--nay, often--found blooming alone in her
superiority, while the despised competitor is a happy mother of
children. And all this to explain that Jack Meredith felt drawn towards
his great hulking companion by something that was not a mere respect of
mind for matter.

As love is inexplicable, so is friendship. No man can explain why David
held Jonathan in such high esteem. Between men it would appear that
admiration is no part of friendship. And such as have the patience to
follow the lives of the two Englishmen thus brought together by a series
of chances will perhaps be able to discover in this record of a great
scheme the reason why Jack Meredith, the brilliant, the gifted, should
bestow upon Guy Oscard such a wealth of love and esteem as he never
received in return.

During the silence Jack was apparently meditating over the debt of
confidence which he still owed to his companion; for he spoke first, and
spoke seriously, about himself, which was somewhat against his habit.

"I daresay you have heard," he said, "that I had a--a disagreement with
my father."

"Yes. Heard something about it," replied Oscard, in a tone which seemed
to imply that the "something" was quite suffic