aracteristic. The country is made for silence, the natives are created
to steal, spirit-ridden, devil-haunted, through vast tracks of lifeless
forest, where nature is oppressive in her grandeur. Here man is put into
his right place--a puny, insignificant, helpless being in a world that
is too large for him.

"So," said Durnovo, returning to the subject which had never really left
his thoughts, "you have come out here for pleasure?"

"Not exactly. I came chiefly to make money, partly to dispel some of
the illusions of my youth, and I am getting on very well. Picture-book
illusions they were. The man who drew the pictures had never seen
Africa."

"This is no country for illusions. Things go naked here--damned naked."

"And only language is adorned?"

Durnovo laughed. He had to be alert to keep up with Jack Meredith--to
understand his speech; and he rather liked the necessity, which was a
change after the tropic indolence in which he had moved.

"Swearing, you mean," he replied. "Hope you don't mind it?"

"Not a bit. Do it myself."

At this moment Joseph, the servant, brought coffee served up in tin
cups.

"First-class dinner," said Durnovo. "The best dinner I have had for
years. Clever chap, your man!"

The last remark was made as much for the servant's edification as for
the master's, and it was accompanied by an inviting smile directed
towards Joseph. Of this the man took no notice whatever. He came from
a world where masters and masters' guests know their place and keep it,
even after a good dinner.

The evening had turned out so very differently from what he had expected
that Durnovo was a little off his balance. Things were so sociable and
pleasant in comparison with the habitual loneliness of his life. The
fire crackled so cheerily, the moon shone down on the river so grandly,
the subdued chatter of the boatmen imparted such a feeling of safety and
comfort to the scene, that he gave way to that impulse of expansiveness
which ever lurks in West Indian blood.

"I say," he said, "when you told me that you wanted to make money, were
you in earnest?"

"In the deadliest earnest," replied Jack Meredith, in the half-mocking
tone which he never wholly learnt to lay aside.

"Then I think I can put you in the way of it. Oh, I know it seems a bit
premature--not known you long enough, and all that. But in this country
we don't hold much by the formalities. I like you. I liked the look of
you when you got out of