around that brandy bottle. The calm beauty of the African
night could weave no spell upon him. A few feet behind, Trent, by the
light of the moon, was practising tricks with a pack of greasy cards.
By and by a spark of intelligence found its way into Monty's brain. He
turned round furtively.

"Trent," he said, "this is slow! Let us have a friendly game--you and
I."

Trent yawned.

"Come on, then," he said. "Single Poker or Euchre, eh?"

"I do not mind," Monty replied affably. "Just which you prefer."

"Single Poker, then," Trent said.

"And the stakes?"

"We've nothing left to play for," Trent answered gloomily, "except
cartridges."

Monty made a wry face. "Poker for love, my dear Trent," he said,
"between you and me, would lack all the charm of excitement. It would
be, in fact, monotonous! Let us exercise our ingenuity. There must be
something still of value in our possession."

He relapsed into an affectation of thoughtfulness. Trent watched him
curiously. He knew quite well that his partner was dissembling, but he
scarcely saw to what end. Monty's eyes, moving round the grass-bound
hut, stopped at Trent's knapsack which hung from the central pole. He
uttered a little exclamation.

"I have it," he declared. "The very thing."

"Well!"

"You are pleased to set an altogether fictitious value upon half bottle
of brandy we have left," he said. "Now I tell you what I will do. In a
few months we shall both be rich men. I will play you for my I O U, for
fifty pounds, fifty sovereigns, Trent, against half the contents of that
bottle. Come, that is a fair offer, is it not? How we shall laugh at
this in a year or two! Fifty pounds against a tumblerful--positively
there is no more--a tumblerful of brandy."

He was watching Trent's face all the time, but the younger man gave
no sign. When he had finished, Trent took up the cards, which he had
shuffled for Poker, and dealt them out for Patience. Monty's eyes were
dim with disappointment.

"What!" he cried. "You don't agree! Did you understand me? Fifty pounds,
Trent! Why, you must be mad!"

"Oh, shut up!" Trent growled. "I don't want your money, and the brandy's
poison to you! Go to sleep!"

Monty crept a little nearer to his partner and laid his hand upon his
arm. His shirt fell open, showing the cords of his throat swollen and
twitching. His voice was half a sob.

"Trent, you are a young man--not old like me. You don't understand my
constitution. Brandy i