re than four
miles from my own kia now. You goin' on?"

"Yais," agreed the Frenchman. "I go a leetle bit. Not too far, eh!"

They moved on through the bush. Mills shifted his; gun from shoulder
to shoulder, and suffered still from heat and sweat. His taller
companion went more easily, striding along as Mills thought, glancing
at him, "like a fox." The warmth appeared not to distress him in the
least.

"By Jove," exclaimed the trader. "You're the build of man for this
blooming country. You travel as if you was born to it. Don't the heat
trouble you at all?"

"Oh no," answered the Frenchman carelessly. "You see, I come from a
'ot country. In France it is ver' often 'ot. But you don' like it,
eh?"

"No," said the trader, with emphasis. "I was after pea-hen, or you
wouldn't see me out this time o' the day. English chaps can't stand
it."

"Eh?"

"English chaps can't stand it, I said," repeated Mills. "They mos'ly
lie up till it's cooler."

"Ah yais."

They were now nearing the river. A steam rose over the bushes and
spiraled into the air, and the hum of water going slowly was audible.
A few minutes of walking brought them to its banks. The stream flowed
greasily and dark, some forty yards wide, but in the middle it forked
about a spit of sand not more than ten paces broad. It was a very
Lethe of a river, running oilily and with a slumberous sound, and its
reputation for crocodiles was vile.

Mills sat down and began to pull off his boots.

"As well here as anywhere," he said. "I'll try it, anyhow."

"I go back now," said the Frenchman. "Some day I come up an' see
you, eh? You like that?"

"Come along any time," replied Mills cheerfully as he slung his boots
across his shoulders. "You don't think that island's a quicksand,
eh?"

The Frenchman turned and stared at it. "I do' know," he answered.
"Per'aps. You goin' to try, eh?"

"Yes, I'll have a shot at it. You can mos'ly trust yourself on 'em if
you walk light an' quick. But we'll see."

The Frenchman watched him as he waded out. The black water reached no
higher than his knees, but the ground was soft under foot, and he
floundered anxiously.

"It sucks at you," he called. "It's all greasy."

He moved on, and came to the sand island.

"It's better here," he called. "I'll be all right now."

The Frenchman jumped to his feet.

"Look out!" he shouted, gesticulating violently. "You go down; walk
off 'im!"

Mills glanced down, and saw that the cree