to do! Out you go!"

"Don't talk rubbish!" Cathcart said angrily. "I'm the authorised and
properly appointed surveyor here!"

"You're a liar!" Trent answered, "you've no connection at all with the
Company! you're dismissed, sir, for incompetence and cowardice, and
if you're not off the premises in three minutes it'll be the worse for
you!"

"You--you--haven't the power to do this," Cathcart stuttered.

Trent laughed.

"We'll see about that," he said. "I never had much faith in you, sir,
and I guess you only got the job by a rig. But out you go now, sharp. If
there's anything owing you, you can claim it in London.

"There are all my clothes--" Cathcart began.

Trent laid his hands upon his shoulders and threw him softly outside.

"I'll send your clothes to the hotel," he said. "Take my advice, young
man, and keep out of my sight till you can find a steamer to take you
where they'll pay you for doing nothing. You're the sort of man who
irritates me and it's a nasty climate for getting angry in!"

Cathcart picked himself up. "Well, I should like to know who's going to
make your road," he said spitefully.

"I'll make it myself," Trent roared. "Don't you think a little thing
like some stupid laws of science will stand in my way, or the way of
a man who knows his own mind. I tell you I'll level that road from the
tree there which we marked as the starting-point to the very centre of
Bekwando."

He slammed the door and re-entered the room. The boy was there, sitting
upon the office stool hard at work with a pair of compasses.

"What the devil are you doing there?" Trent asked. "Out you go with your
master!"

The boy looked up. He had a fair, smooth face, but lips like Trent's
own.

"I'm just thinking about that first bend by Kurru corner, sir," he said,
"I'm not sure about the level."

Trent's face relaxed. He held out his hand.

"My boy," he said, "I'll make your fortune as sure as my name is
Scarlett Trent!"

"We'll make that road anyway," the boy answered, with a smile.

* * * * *

After a rest Trent climbed the hill to the Basle Mission House. There
was no sign of Monty on the potato patch, and the woman who opened the
door started when she saw him.

"How is he?" Trent asked quickly.

The woman looked at him in wonder.

"Why, he's gone, sir--gone with the Jewish gentleman who said that you
had sent him."

"Where to?" Trent asked quickly.

"Why, t