se business it is to go
about with a rifle in one hand and their life in the other--who risk
their lives because it is their trade and not their pleasure.

Durnovo could not understand the new-comer at all. He saw at once that
this was one of those British aristocrats who do strange things in a
very strange way. In a degree Meredith reminded him of Maurice Gordon,
the man whose letter of introduction was at that moment serving to
light the camp fire. But it was Maurice Gordon without that semi-sensual
weakness of purpose which made him the boon companion of Tom, Dick, or
Harry, provided that one of those was only with him long enough. There
was a vast depth of reserve--of indefinable possibilities, which puzzled
Durnovo, and in some subtle way inspired fear.

In that part of Africa which lies within touch of the Equator, life is
essentially a struggle. There is hunger about, and where hunger is the
emotions will be found also. Now Jack Meredith was a past-master in the
concealment of these, and, as such, came to Victor Durnovo in the guise
of a new creation. He had lived the latter and the larger part of his
life among men who said, in action if not in words, I am hungry, or I am
thirsty; I want this, or I want that; and if you are not strong enough
to keep it, I will take it from you.

This man was different; and Victor Durnovo did not know--could not find
out--WHAT he wanted.

He had at first been inclined to laugh at him. What struck him most
forcibly was Joseph, the servant. The idea of a man swaggering up an
African river with a European man-servant was so preposterous that it
could only be met with ridicule; but the thing seemed so natural to Jack
Meredith, he accepted the servitude of Joseph so much as a matter of
course, that after a time Durnovo accepted him also as part and parcel
of Meredith.

Moreover, he immediately began to realise the benefit of being waited
upon by an intelligent European, for Joseph took off his coat, turned
up his sleeves, and proceeded to cook such a dinner as Durnovo had not
tasted for many months. There was wine also, and afterwards a cigar of
such quality as appealed strongly to Durnovo's West Indian palate.

The night settled down over the land while they sat there, and before
them the great yellow equatorial moon rose slowly over the trees. With
the darkness came a greater silence, for the myriad insect life
was still. This great silence of Central Africa is wonderfully
ch