shall. Won't you--"

"No, I won't," Trent interrupted. "Now shut up all that rot and eat
something."

"I have no appetite, thank you," Monty answered, with sulky dignity.

"Eat something, and don't be a silly ass!" Trent insisted. "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. It was the likeness of a
girl, a very young girl apparently, for her hair was still down her
back and her dress was scarcely of the orthodox length. It was not
particularly well taken, but Trent had never seen anything like it
before. The lips were slightly parted, the deep eyes were brimming with
laughter, the pose was full of grace, even though the girl's figure was
angular. Trent had seen as much as this, when he felt the smart of a
sudden blow upon the cheek, the picture was snatched from his hand, and
Monty--his face convulsed with anger--glowered fiercely upon him.

"You infernal young blackguard! You impertinent meddling blockhead! How
dare you presume to look at that photograph! How dare you, sir! How dare
you!"

Trent was too thoroughly astonished to resent either the blow or the
fierce words. He looked up into his aggressor's face in blank surprise.

"I only looked at it," he muttered. "It was lying on the floor."

"Looked at it! You looked at it! Like your confounded impertinence, sir!
Who are you to look at her! If ever I catch you prying into my concerns
again, I'll shoot you--by Heaven I will!"

Trent laughed sullenly, and, having finished eating, lit his pipe.

"Your concerns are of no interest to me," he said shortly; "keep 'em to
yourself--and look here, old 'un, keep your hands off me! I ain't a safe
man to hit let me tell you. Now sit down and cool off! I don't want any
more of your tantrums."

Then there was a long silence between the two men. Monty sat where Trent
had been earlier in the night at the front of the open hut, his eyes
fixed upon the ever-rising moon, his face devoid of intelligence, his
eyes dim. The fire of the last few minutes had speedily burnt out. His
half-soddened brain refused to answer to the sudden spasm of memory
which had awakened a spark of the former man. If he had thoughts at
all, they hung