e; but a
combined attack from, say, two sides at once would certainly have been
successful. Meredith had no reason to suppose that his appeal for help
had reached Msala, infested as the intervening forests were by cannibal
tribes. Provisions were at a low ebb. There seemed to be no hope
of outside aid, and disaffection was rife in his small force. Jack
Meredith, who was no soldier, found himself called upon to defend a weak
position, with unreliable men, for an indefinite period.

Joseph had a rough knowledge of soldiering and a very rudimentary notion
of fortification. But he had that which served as well--the unerring eye
for covert of a marksman. He was a dead shot at any range, and knowing
what he could hit he also knew how to screen himself from the rifle of
an enemy.

Above all, perhaps, was the quiet influence of a man who never flinched
from danger nor seemed to be in the least disconcerted by its presence.

"It seems, sir," said Joseph to his master later in the day, "that
you've kinder stumped them. They don't understand you."

"They must be kept in check by fear. There is no other way," replied
Meredith rather wearily. Of late he had felt less and less inclined to
exert himself.

"Yes, sir. Those sort o' men."

Meredith made no answer, and after a little pause Joseph repeated the
words significantly, if ungrammatically.

"Those sort o' men."

"What do you mean?"

"Slaves," replied Joseph sharply, touching his hat without knowing why.

"Slaves! What the devil are you talking about?"

The man came a little nearer.

"Those forty men--leastwise thirty-four men--that we brought from
Msala--Mr. Durnovo's men, that cultivate this 'ere Simiacine as they
call it--they're different from the rest, sir."

"Yes, of course they are. We do not hire them direct--we hire them from
Mr. Durnovo and pay their wages to him. They are of a different tribe
from the others--not fighting men but agriculturists."

"Ah--" Joseph paused. "Strange thing, sir, but I've not seen 'em
handling any of their pay yet."

"Well, that is their affair."

"Yessir."

Having unburthened himself of his suspicion, the servant retired,
shaking his head ominously. At any other time the words just recorded
would have aroused Jack Meredith's attention, but the singular
slothfulness that seemed to be creeping over his intellect was already
acting as a clog on his mental energy.

The next morning he was unable to leave his bed, and lay