rgotten all about his visitor, plodded away amongst the
potato furrows, with every now and then a long, searching look towards
the town. Then there came a black speck stealing across the broad
rice-field and up the steep hill, a speck which in time took to itself
the semblance of a man, a Kru boy, naked as he was born save for a
ragged loin-cloth, and clutching something in his hand. He was invisible
to Trent until he was close at hand; it was Monty whose changed attitude
and deportment indicated the approach of something interesting. He had
relinquished his digging and, after a long, stealthy glance towards the
house, had advanced to the extreme boundary of the potato patch. His
behaviour here for the first time seemed to denote the hopeless lunatic.
He swung his long arms backward and forwards, cracking his fingers, and
talked unintelligibly to himself, hoarse, guttural murmurings without
sense or import. Trent changed his place and for the first time saw the
Kru boy. His face darkened and an angry exclamation broke from his lips.
It was something like this which he had been expecting.

The Kru boy drew nearer and nearer. Finally he stood upright on
the rank, coarse grass and grinned at Monty, whose lean hands were
outstretched towards him. He fumbled for a moment in his loin-cloth.
Then he drew out a long bottle and handed it up. Trent stepped out as
Monty's nervous fingers were fumbling with the cork. He made a grab at
the boy who glided off like an eel. Instantly he whipped out a revolver
and covered him.

"Come here," he cried.

The boy shook his head. "No understand."

"Who sent you here with that filthy stuff?" he asked sternly. "You'd
best answer me."

The Kru boy, shrinking away from the dark muzzle of that motionless
revolver, was spellbound with fear. He shook his head.

"No understand."

There was a flash of light, a puff of smoke, a loud report. The Kru boy
fell forward upon his face howling with fear. Monty ran off towards the
house mumbling to himself.

"The next time," Trent said coolly, "I shall fire at you instead of at
the tree. Remember I have lived out here and I know all about you and
your kind. You can understand me very well if you choose, and you've
just got to. Who sends you here with that vile stuff?"

"Massa, I tell! Massa Oom Sam, he send me!"

"And what is the stuff?"

"Hamburgh gin, massa! very good liquor! Please, massa, point him pistol
the other way."

Trent took up the