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What would people say? that you tried to kill him with brandy, that the clause in the concession was a direct incentive for you to get rid of him, and you left him in the bush only a few miles from Buckomari to be seized by the natives. Besides, how can you pay him half? I know pretty well how you stand.
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.
Trent laughed shortly. "There's never a man in Buckomari no, nor in all Africa could keep Monty from the drink," he said. "Live with him for a month and try it. It wouldn't suit you I don't think." He glanced disdainfully at the smooth face and careful dress of their visitor, who bore the inspection with a kindly return of contempt.
He thrust the weapon back into the drawer with a sigh of regret, just as Da Souza himself appeared upon the scene. "You sent for me, Trent," the latter remarked timidly. "I am quite ready to answer any more questions." "Answer this one, then," was the gruff reply. "In Buckomari village before we left for England I was robbed of a letter. I don't think I need ask you who was the thief."
"We've a hard journey before us, and you'll need all the strength in your carcase to land in Buckomari again. Here, you've dropped some of your precious rubbish." Trent stooped forward and picked up what seemed to him at first to be a piece of cardboard from the ground. He was about to fling it to its owner, when he saw that it was a photograph.
A sort of stupor had laid hold of him, but through it all his brain was working, and he kept steadily to a fixed course. Was it the sea in his ears, he wondered, that long, monotonous rolling of sound, and there were lights before his eyes the lights of Buckomari, or the lights of death! They found him an hour or two later unconscious, but alive, on the outskirts of the village.
It's a go!" Monty no one at Buckomari had ever known of any other name for him stretched out a long hand, with delicate tapering fingers, and let it rest for a moment gingerly in the thick, brown palm of his companion. Then he glanced stealthily over his shoulder and his eyes gleamed. "I think, if you will allow me, Trent, I will just moisten my lips no more with some of that excellent brandy."
But listen to me! If anything happens to your partner here or in Buckomari, you'll have me to reckon with. I shall not forget. We are bound to meet! Remember that!" Trent turned his back upon him in a fit of passion which choked down all speech. Captain Francis lit a cigarette and walked across towards his camp. A sky like flame, and an atmosphere of sulphur.
"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.
Then the slavery at a Belgian settlement, the job on a steamer trading along the Congo, the life at Buckomari, and lastly this bold enterprise in which the savings of years were invested. It was a life which called aloud for fortune some day or other to make a little atonement. The old man was dreaming. Wealth would bring him, uneducated though he was, happiness enough and to spare.
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