a few feet away he had seen a pair of
bright eyes gleaming at them through a low shrub. A little native boy
scuttled away--as black as night, woolly-headed, and shiny; he had crept
up unknown to look with fearful eyes upon the wonderful white strangers.
Trent threw a lump of earth at him and laughed as he dodged it.

"Well, go ahead, Monty," he said. "Let's hear what you're driving at.
What a gab you've got to be sure!"

Monty waved his hand--a magnificent and silencing gesture.

"I have alluded to these matters," he continued, "merely in order
to show you that the greater share of danger and discomfort in this
expedition falls to my lot. Having reminded you of this, Trent, I refer
to the concluding sentence of your last speech. The words indicated, as
I understood them, some doubt of our ability to see this thing through."

He paused, peering over to where Trent was sitting with grim, immovable
face, listening with little show of interest. He drew a long, deep
breath and moved over nearer to the doorway. His manner was suddenly
changed.

"Scarlett Trent," he cried, "Scarlett Trent, listen to me! You are young
and I am old! To you this may be one adventure amongst many--it is my
last. I've craved for such a chance as this ever since I set foot in
this cursed land. It's come late enough, too late almost for me, but I'm
going through with it while there's breath in my body. Swear to me now
that you will not back out! Do you hear, Trent? Swear!"

Trent looked curiously at his companion, vastly interested in this
sudden outburst, in the firmness of his tone and the tightening of
the weak mouth. After all, then, the old chap had some grit in him. To
Trent, who had known him for years as a broken-down hanger-on of
the settlement at Buckomari, a drunkard, gambler, a creature to all
appearance hopelessly gone under, this look and this almost passionate
appeal were like a revelation. He stretched out his great hand and
patted his companion on the back--a proceeding which obviously caused
him much discomfort.

"Bravo, old cockie!" he said. "Didn't imagine you'd got the grit. You
know I'm not the chap to be let down easy. We'll go through with it,
then, and take all chances! It's my game right along. Every copper I've
got went to pay the bearers here and to buy the kickshaws and rum for
old What's-his-name, and I'm not anxious to start again as a pauper.
We'll stay here till we get our concessions, or till they bury us, the