ficulty about the
matter. Here, in the heart of the Ashanti forest, it was all so
different. And yet Dick did not fall short of the estimate his
employers had formed of him. Long before they had departed from the
mine they had approved, time and again, their appointment of him as
their agent.

"He is born for command," Mr Pepson had said. "He is quiet, and
inclined to be cool. He will not be hurried. I've watched him. Rather
than give a hasty decision he will slip away for a time, and then one
sees him smoking his pipe and evidently cogitating. That's the sort of
lad I can rely on. Ready, if there is need to act in haste, but given
to reflection, weighing his words, and venturing no opinion unless he
has considered beforehand. As to courage--well, that he has, we know."

Meinheer Van Somering had invariably replied that Dick was indeed brave,
and who could realise the fact if he--a Dutchman--did not do so?

But under the present circumstances who could give thought to any
question? Dick was crouching beneath the archway of roots within easy
reach of a band of cutthroats who had made an attack upon his stockade.
And in their midst was the ruffian who had systematically robbed his
father, and who had wound up his crimes by robbing Dick, and then making
a murderous attack upon the expedition. Would James Langdon spare him
if he happened to discover his whereabouts? Would he cause the forest
to be searched if he suspected that hidden within it was the youth whom
he had wronged, and against whom he was so embittered? If Dick had had
any doubts, the next few words of the miscreant relieved his mind of
them, and set the perspiration again pouring from his forehead.

"Yes," said the half-caste, reflecting. "Our course is clear. We have
failed to rush them, thanks to this white man and his precautions. I
felt that he would be suspicious of a second attack, and would be ready
for us. Then we will surround the stockade, for what hope have we of
rushing the place? They are armed with sniders, my comrades, and can
fire three shots to our one. Then they are under perfect cover, while
we are exposed in the open. No, no, it would be foolish to attack
again. It would be wasting lives. We will sit down and wait for our
friends, and when they come, ah! then there will be a different tale.
These miners shall hand over their gold, and this white man--what shall
we do with him? Think of your brothers who are slain!