himself. The first mouthful Francis was unable to swallow. His throat
had swollen and his eyes were hideously bloodshot. Trent, who had seen
men before in dire straits, fed him from a spoon and forced brandy
between his lips. Certainly, at the time, he never stopped to consider
that he was helping back to life the man who in all the world was most
likely to do him ill.

"Better?" he asked presently.

"Much. What luck to find you. What are you after--gold?"

Trent shook his head.

"Not at present. We're planning out the new road from Attra to
Bekwando."

Francis looked up with surprise.

"Never heard of it," he said; "but there's trouble ahead for you. They
are dancing the war-dance at Bekwando, and the King has been shut up for
three days with the priest and never opened his mouth. We were on our
way from the interior, and relied upon them for food and drink. They've
always been friendly, but this time we barely escaped with our lives."

Trent's face grew serious. This was bad news for him, and he was
thankful that they had not carried out their first plan and commenced
their prospecting at Bekwando village.

"We have a charter," he said, "and, if necessary, we must fight. I'm
glad to be prepared though."

"A charter!" Francis pulled himself together and looked curiously at the
man who was still bending over him.

"Great Heavens!" he exclaimed, "why, you are Scarlett Trent, the man
whom I met with poor Villiers in Bekwando years ago."

Trent nodded.

"We waited for you," he said, "to witness our concession. I thought that
you would remember."

"I thought," Francis said slowly, "that there was something familiar
about you.... I remember it all now. You were gambling with poor old
Monty for his daughter's picture against a bottle of brandy."

Trent winced a little.

"You have an excellent memory," he said drily.

Francis raised himself a little, and a fiercer note crept into his tone.

"It is coming back to me," he said. "I remember more about you now,
Scarlett Trent. You are the man who left his partner to die in a jungle,
that you might rob him of his share in the concession. Oh yes, you see
my memory is coming back! I have an account against you, my man."

"It's a lie!" said Trent passionately. "When I left him, I honestly
believed him to be a dead man."

"How many people will believe that?" Francis scoffed. "I shall take
Monty with me to England. I have finished with this country for
awhile-