n the distance spoke of civilized delights. The
surf crooned on coral half a mile away, and very good cigar smoke (from
a box that Monty had sent ashore with our belongings) supplemented
coffee and the other aids to physical contentment. Then, limping
between the armchairs, and ashamed that we should rise to greet
him--motioning us down again with a little nervous laugh--Courtney came
to us. Within five minutes of his coming the world, and the clock, and
the laws of men might have all reversed themselves for aught we cared.
Without really being conscious he was doing it Courtney plunged into
our problem, grasped it, sized it up, advised us, flooded us with
priceless, wonderful advice, and did it with such almost feminine
sympathy that I believe we would have been telling him our love-affairs
at last, if a glance at the watch he wore in a case at his belt had not
told him it was three A. M.

"There's trouble" he began when he had filled his pipe. "You boys are
in trouble. What is it?" he asked, shifting and twitching in his
seat--refusing an armchair--refusing a drink.

"Tell us first what's the matter with you," said Fred.

"Oh, nothing. An old wound. A lion once dragged me by this shoulder
half a mile or so. At this time of year I get pains. They last a day
or two, then pass--Go on, tell me!"

He never sat really still once that whole evening, yet never once
complained or made a gesture of impatience.

"I propose," said Fred, with a glance at Yerkes and me, "to tell
Courtney everything without reserve."

The little old hunter nodded, watching us with bright blue eyes. I
received the impression that he knew more secrets than he could tell
should he talk down all the years that might be left him. He was the
sort of man in whom nearly every one confides.

"We're after Tippoo Tib's ivory!" said Fred, plunging into the middle
of things. "Monty has gone to drive a bargain with the King of
Belgium. Do you think it's a wild goose chase?"

Courtney chuckled. "No," he said. "I wouldn't call it that. They've
been killing elephants in Africa ever since the flood. Ivory must have
accumulated. It's somewhere. Some of it must be so old and well
seasoned as to be practically priceless, unless rats have spoiled it.
Rats play old Harry with ivory, you know."

"Have you a notion where it is?" demanded Fred.

Courtney laughed. "Behold me leaving the country!" he said.
"If I knew I'd look. If I saw I'd take!