"Personal affairs I am not prepared to discuss, but I hope, dear old sir, that I know enough about King's Regulations to be respectful, dear old tyrant ——"

"Shut up," snapped Hamilton. "Anyway, you did pinch my toothpaste."

"I may have borrowed it, sir an' captain," said Bones gently, "thinkin' that you had no use for it ——"

"You did take it," growled Hamilton. "I wouldn't have made a fuss about that, but you brought back a tube of brown shoe polish, and the first thing I knew — ugh!"

Bones inclined his head.

"Accidents will happen, dear old sir." He was offensively respectful. "I said to our jolly old North American friend ——"

Sanders had an idea.

"Bones, take the Wiggle up to the N'gombi country — we've got to give Murdock some sort of trip, and the country is quiet just now — I'd like you to see B'lala, the son of Ufumbi the king . . . ." He explained at length his interest in the boy.

* * *

"Anyway, he's crazy," said Donald gloomily. "Mr. Sanders says he's crazy — you can't see ghosts any other way."

"I've seen ghosts, dear old septic," said Bones stiffly.

"You mean sceptic," corrected the melancholy Donald. "What sort of education do they give you in your high schools?"

"A jolly sight better than they give you in your public schools," said Bones hotly, and was nearer the truth than he imagined.

They were sitting on the foredeck of the Wiggle, that stout launch, and the low-lying shores of the Isisi country were moving slowly past them. It was the third day of the voyage, and hot — hotter than anything Donald had ever experienced, though as a loyalist he praised New York on a sweltering summer day as having it beaten. At Lapori, where he stopped, Bones had news that nearly sent him to the right-about.

"Lord, in the dark. hours there came a lokali message from the N'gombi," said the old headman. "The king has died of the sickness mongo, and his son is in his place. Also fishermen who came down the river have seen N'gombi war canoes and spears, and it is a saying on the river that when the N'gombi goes on the water, there are new graves on the little island."

Bones scratched his chin thoughtfully. In a moment of mental aberration he had forgotten to bring his carrier pigeons.

"This is a bad palaver," he said. "Get me a fast canoe, with strong young paddlers, and I will send a book1 to my lord Sandi."

1 Letter.

In the ordinary relationships of life Bones was as inconstant as an English spring day. But Bones, faced with real trouble and real responsibility was a being transfigured. He counted heads, and found himself with five effective fighting men besides himself and Donald. Fortunately the Wiggle carried one very desirable 'spare' in the shape of a machine gun, and this he had unpacked and erected on the foredeck. Mr. Donald Murdock was intensely interested.