y well aware that by his timely rescue he had
saved Jack Meredith from the hands of the tribes. The presumption was
that Sir John knew of this, and it was only natural that he should be
somewhat exceptionally gracious to the man who had saved his son's life.

It would seem that Sir John divined these thoughts, for he presently
spoke of them.

"Owing to an unfortunate difference of opinion with my son we have not
been very communicative lately," he said, with that deliberation which
he knew how to assume when he desired to be heard without interruption.
"I am therefore almost entirely ignorant of your African affairs, but
I imagine Jack owes more to your pluck and promptness than has yet
transpired. I gathered as much from one or two conversations I had with
Miss Gordon when she was in England. I am one of Miss Gordon's many
admirers."

"And I am another," said Oscard frankly.

"Ah! Then you are happy enough to be the object of a reciprocal feeling
which for myself I could scarcely expect. She spoke of you in no
measured language. I gathered from her that if you had not acted with
great promptitude the--er--happy event of to-morrow could not have taken
place."

The old man paused, and Guy Oscard, who looked somewhat distressed and
distinctly uncomfortable, could find no graceful way of changing the
conversation.

"In a word," went on Sir John in a very severe tone, "I owe you a great
debt. You saved my boy's life."

"Yes, but you see," argued Oscard, finding his tongue at last, "out
there things like that don't count for so much."

"Oh--don't they?" There was the suggestion of a smile beneath Sir John's
grim eyebrows.

"No," returned Oscard rather lamely, "it is a sort of thing that happens
every day out there."

Sir John turned suddenly, and with the courtliness that was ever his
he indulged in a rare exhibition of feeling. He laid his hand on Guy
Oscard's stalwart knee.

"My dear Oscard," he said, and when he chose he could render his voice
very soft and affectionate, "none of these arguments apply to me
because I am not out there. I like you for trying to make little of your
exploit. Such conduct is worthy of you--worthy of a gentleman; but you
cannot disguise the fact that Jack owes his life to you and I owe you
the same, which, between you and me I may mention, is more valuable to
me than my own. I want you to remember always that I am your debtor,
and if--if circumstances should ever seem to indicate