a's kraal, and had persisted in making it alone. This Peters
would not hear of, and after considerable altercation they had gone
together. But for all they elicited--anything definite, that is--they
might just as well have stayed at home; yet there was a something in the
demeanour of the savages that seemed to make up for this. They were
altogether too cordial, too effusive--in short, over-acted their part.
From this, also true to his word, Lamont had duly sent in to Orwell the
deductions he had drawn.

It had been a risky venture, knowing what they did. They had avoided
spending a night there, and all the while, not seeming to be, were
keenly on the alert, outwardly chaffing at ease with their doubtful
entertainers. Qubani was away; where, nobody knew. _Au_! an _isanusi_
was not an ordinary mortal, they said. His goings and comings were
perforce mysterious at times. However, they had returned in safety and
had experienced no overt manifestation of hostility.

On these things was Peters pondering as he kept his boys tolerably hard
at their job. The new development of affairs was particularly vexatious
to him, in that he had of late detected signs that this time he was not
toiling in vain. Any day, any moment, might disclose a rich field, and
then what fun it would be to go to Lamont and say--"What have I always
told you? We've `struck ile' at last, and now you can get away home--
and clear off all the encumbrances on your family place, and then--where
the devil do _I_ come in?" Yes, he had often rehearsed the revelation,
and doing so had come to the conclusion that even luck had its seamy
side.

What on earth would he do when Lamont had gone for good? Lamont would
probably marry and take up his position, and then he, Peters, with all
the wealth he was going to take out of this hole in front of him--why,
he was far happier as things were.

You see, he was rather an out-of-the-way character was Peters.

Now a murmur among his boys attracted his attention, and Lamont himself
appeared on the scene.

"Here, what the devil d'you think, Peters?" he said glumly, as he slid
from the saddle. "Here's this fellow Ancram turned up again."

"Ancram? Good Lord! Has he come to stay?"

"Rather. He borrowed a horse from Fullerton, and he's got luggage
enough on his saddle to weigh down two railway porters. Said he had
such a good time before that he must come and see us again. I couldn't
turn him away, and so