all call me if he grows
worse."

"On my life," said Abiboo, and was going off.

"Where is Tibbetti?" asked Hamilton.

The sergeant turned back and seemed embarrassed.

"Lord," he said, "Tibbetti has gone with the lady, your sister, to make
a palaver with Jimbujini, the witch-doctor of the Akasava. They sit in
the forest in a magic circle, and lo! Tibbetti grows very wise."

Hamilton swore under his breath. He had ordered Lieutenant Tibbetts, his
second-in-command, prop, stay, and aide-de-camp, to superintend the
drill of some raw Kano recruits who had been sent from the coast.

"Go tell the lord Tibbetti to come to me," he said, "but first send your
woman to Sandi."

Lieutenant Tibbetts, with his plain, boyish face all red with his
exertions, yet dignified withal, came hurriedly from his studies.

"Come aboard, sir," he said, and saluted extravagantly, blinking at his
superior with a curious solemnity of mien which was his own peculiar
expression.

"Bones," said Hamilton, "where the dickens have you been?"

Bones drew a long breath. He hesitated, then--

"Knowledge," he said shortly.

Hamilton looked at his subordinate in alarm.

"Dash it, you aren't off your head, too, are you?"

Bones shook his head with vigour.

"Knowledge of the occult, sir and brother-officer," he said. "One is
never too old to learn, sir, in this jolly old world."

"Quite right," said Hamilton; "in fact, I'm pretty certain that you'll
never live long enough to learn everything."

"Thank you, sir," said Bones.

The girl, who had had less qualms than Bones when the summons arrived,
and had, in consequence, returned more leisurely, came into the room.

"Pat," said her brother, "Sanders is down with fever."

"Fever!" she said a little breathlessly. "It isn't--dangerous?"

Bones, smiling indulgently, soothed her.

"Nothin' catchin', dear Miss Patricia Hamilton," he began.

"Please don't be stupid," she said so fiercely that Bones recoiled. "Do
you think I'm afraid of catching anything? Is it dangerous for Mr.
Sanders?" she asked her brother.

"No more dangerous than a cold in the head," he answered flippantly. "My
dear child, we all have fever. You'll have it, too, if you go out at
sunset without your mosquito boots."

He explained, with the easy indifference of a man inured to malaria,
the habits of the mosquito--his predilection for ankles and wrists,
where the big veins and arteries are nearer to the surface--but the g