forest which formed at this time
the surroundings of Cape Coast Castle. There were deep shadows
everywhere, and Dick's eyes sought them, and endeavoured to penetrate to
their depths. He stood still and listened, though the thump of his
fast-beating heart was all that came to his ears above the boom of the
surf. That and the eternal droning of the insects which swarmed around.
No one seemed to be abroad this night, and yet--

"Some one was here," thought Dick, with conviction, as he stepped across
the wooden platform, with its overhanging roof, which went by the name
of verandah. "Here is the deck-chair in which I was sitting just before
I turned in, and it is now on its side: I left it all right. And--
That's some one!"

He drew back somewhat suddenly, while his breathing became faster. For
some one, an indefinite shape, a native perhaps, had stepped from one of
the shadows and had peered at the verandah. Then detecting the white
youth, he had vanished into the shadow again, as silently and as
stealthily as any snake.

"I don't like that at all," thought Dick. "I'm alone here, and the
people know that there is gold. They know that father kept his money in
the house, and now that he is gone they must be aware that I have it.
I'll camp out here for the night. I wish to goodness I had gone down to
the Castle and left this box under lock and key."

He stepped back into the room which he had just vacated, and felt along
the wall till his hand hit upon a rifle. Then he sought for cartridges,
and, having found a handful, tucked them into the pocket of his pyjamas,
and one into the breech of his weapon. That done, he went on to the
verandah, and, pulling his chair into a corner, sat down with the gun
across his legs and the box beneath his feet.

"I could have slept," he grumbled. "But that's out of the question.
Some blackguard wants the money, and that must be prevented. Besides,
these Fantis would knife me with pleasure. I don't care for the thought
of that, so here goes for a night-watch, Dick Stapleton, my boy, you'll
be anything but fresh tomorrow."

Had he been an older soldier, Dick would have remained on his legs, and
would have patrolled the length of the verandah, and even shown himself
beyond the house, out in the brilliant patch where the moon rays fell.
But he was only a young fellow, and, in addition, he was tired, fagged
out by work and anxiety. The heat told upon him, too, and the booming