red into the other room. "You boy," he
said, "tell me, what will they do to Muata?"

The Zanzibari chuckled. "You want know, eh?"

"We don't care. One black fellow does not matter," said Compton,
coolly.

"You brute!" muttered Venning, but stopped as Compton's hand gripped
him.

The Zanzibari chuckled again. "What you give, eh, if cut loose that
Muata?"

"What do you say?"

"You pay me? Good. In night Muata is loose. He run up river. Bymby
master go along in little boat, pick Muata up, eh? What you pay?"
and the boy chuckled softly.

"Suppose I tell your white master, you rascal?"

"Wow! You tell, they kill poor Zanzibar boy."

"Then clear out," said Compton, launching a kick; "and if I see any
more of you I will tell."

The boy turned sulky. "Me guard--me stay."

"You go," said Compton, "or I will call your masters, and let them
deal with you."

Growling under his breath, the self-styled "guard" slunk soft-footed
out of the room. Compton struck a match and looked around the
apartment, then turned to Venning with a grin.

"That is the game," he whispered.

"I think I understand," Venning replied softly. "That fellow was
testing you?"

Compton nodded.

"And you think Mr. Hume has not forgotten Muata?"

"I am sure he has not."

They crept into their hammocks, but not to sleep, and they were wide
awake when Mr. Hume entered noisily some two hours later.

"To-morrow night," he shouted boisterously.

"With pleasure, and the night after, for good visitors are rare,"
called the Belgian.

"And good hosts also. Touching those two men you promised as the
crew for my boat?"

"They will be here to-morrow evening," said the senior officer,
thrusting a head round the mat. "Ah, you are comfortable, eh? Yes, I
sent a messenger to Hassan's camp by the vessel which brought you.
Rest well."

"They are good fellows, these Arabs," said Mr. Hume, with
enthusiasm--"good fellows. I remember once----"

"To-morrow night," said the officer, as he withdrew, laughing.

Mr. Hume hummed cheerfully as he prepared for bed, taking no notice
of his young comrades, who were regarding him with silent
disfavour. With one yawn after another he blew out the light, and
struggled into his hammock, to fall asleep almost at once.

Venning's uneasiness returned. He tossed restlessly, listening to
the unaccustomed noises from without, and as the hours went by, and
at last the sound of talking about the fires died off in a la