gaunt, ragged, not too clean, and back at Monty--"you
want gold--honestly if you can get it, if not--well, it is not too wise
to ask. Your partnership is a little mysterious, isn't it--with a man
like that? Out of your magnificent morality I trust that he may get his
share."

Trent flushed a brick--red. An angry answer trembled upon his lips, but
Oom Sam, white and with his little fat body quivering with fear, came
hurrying up to them in the broad track of the moonlight.

"King he angry," he called out to them breathlessly. "Him mad drunk
angry. He say white men all go away, or he fire bush and use the
poisoned arrow. Me off! Got bearers waiting."

"If you go before we've finished," Trent said, "I'll not pay you a
penny. Please yourself."

The little fat man trembled--partly with rage, partly with fear.

"You stay any longer," he said, "and King him send after you and kill on
way home. White English soldiers go Buckomari with you?"

Trent shook his head.

"Going the other way," he said, "down to Wana Hill."

Oom Sam shook his head vigorously.

"Now you mind," he said; "I tell you, King send after you. Him blind
mad."

Oom Sam scuttled away. Captain Francis looked thoughtful. "That little
fat chap may be right," he remarked. "If I were you I'd get out of this
sharp. You see, I'm going the other way. I can't help you."

Trent set his teeth.

"I've spent a good few years trying to put a bit together, and this is
the first chance I've had," he said; "I'm going to have you back me as
a British subject on that concession. We'll go down into the village now
if you're ready."

"I'll get an escort," Francis said. "Best to impress 'em a bit, I think.
Half a minute."

He stepped back into the hut and looked steadfastly at the man who was
still lying doubled up upon the floor. Was it his fancy, or had those
eyes closed swiftly at his turning--was it by accident, too, that Monty,
with a little groan, changed his position at that moment, so that his
face was in the shadow? Captain Francis was puzzled.

"It's like him," he said to himself softly; "but after all the thing's
too improbable!"

He turned away with a shade upon his face and followed Trent out into
the moonlight. The screeching from the village below grew louder and
more hideous every minute.

CHAPTER V

The howls became a roar, blind passion was changed into purposeful fury.
Who were these white men to march so boldly into the presence of the