mals. Yet Trent would
have no caution relaxed, the more they progressed, the more vigilant the
watch they kept. At last came signs of the men of Bekwando. In the small
hours of the morning a burning spear came hurtling through the darkness
and fell with a hiss and a quiver in the ground, only a few feet from
where Trent and the boy lay. Trent stamped on it hastily and gave no
alarm. But the boy stole round with a whispered warning to those who
could be trusted to fight.

Yet no attack came on that night or the next; on the third Trent and the
boy sat talking and the latter frankly owned that he was nervous.

"It's not that I'm afraid," he said, smiling. "You know it isn't that!
But all day long I've had the same feeling--we're being watched! I'm
perfectly certain that the beggars are skulking round the borders of the
forest there. Before morning we shall hear from them."

"If they mean to fight," Trent said, "the sooner they come out the
better. I'd send a messenger to the King only I'm afraid they'd kill
him. Oom Sam won't come! I've sent for him twice."

The boy was looking backwards and forwards along the long line of
disembowelled earth.

"Trent," he said suddenly, "you're a wonderful man. Honestly, this road
is a marvellous feat for untrained labour and with such rotten odds
and ends of machinery. I don't know what experience you'd had of
road-making."

"None," Trent interjected.

"Then it's wonderful!"

Trent smiled upon the boy with such a smile as few people had ever seen
upon his lips.

"There's a bit of credit to you, Davenant," he said. "I'd never have
been able to figure out the levelling alone. Whether I go down or not,
this shall be a good step up on the ladder for you."

The boy laughed.

"I've enjoyed it more than anything else in my life," he said. "Fancy
the difference between this and life in a London office. It's been
magnificent! I never dreamed what life was like before."

Trent looked thoughtfully into the red embers. "You had the mail
to-day," the boy continued. "How were things in London?"

"Not so bad," Trent answered. "Cathcart has been doing all the harm
he can, but it hasn't made a lot of difference. My cables have been
published and our letters will be in print by now, and the photographs
you took of the work. That was a splendid idea!"

"And the shares?"

"Down a bit--not much. Da Souza seems to be selling out carefully a
few at a time, and my brokers are buying most of