sleepy place?”

“Yes, sir—no, sir,” cried the man hastily.

“What is it, then? Do you want a job?” And Mark drew out a shilling.

“Yes, sir; badly, sir.”

“Well, have you got a boat?”

“No, sir; I wish I had. No, sir; thank you, sir. I did not mean that;” and the man thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, while Mark thrust his out of sight as well, shilling and all, and somehow his cheeks felt a little hotter than before, as he felt that he had made a mistake.

“I thought you wanted to take us for a row.”

“Oh no, sir.”

“Then what are you doing here in this out-of-the-way place?”

“Ask him where his ship is,” whispered Dean.

“Yes, that’s it. Do you belong to some ship in the harbour?”

“No, sir. She sailed away three months ago. I was too bad to go away with her. Fever, gentlemen.”

“Oh, that’s bad,” said Mark. “Sick in a strange place.”

“Oh, I haven’t got anything to grumble at, sir. The consul’s been very good to me; but I am as weak as a rat, sir, and—and—”

The poor fellow’s voice during the last few words had trailed off, and ended in silence, while the two boys looked at him sympathetically and felt very uncomfortable.

“I shall be better directly, gentlemen,” he said at last, with quite a gasp; and then with an effort he went on, “I beg pardon, but I heard of you. Someone told me about a party of English gentlemen going up the country towards the mountains where a fellow could shake off the fever. I can’t get on, gentlemen—so weak. Better directly.”

“All right,” said Mark. “Take your time.”

“Thank you, sir. I thought you were going away. It ain’t catching, sir.”

“Nobody thought it was,” said Mark. “Here, let’s walk on down towards the waterside.”

“Thank you, sir. There, I can get on now. I heard about you gentlemen, and I thought I would make bold enough to ask you to take me with you. Sailor, sir,” he continued, turning to Dean. “Turn my hand to anything, sir. Make myself useful. Consul said that a turn up in the mountains would put me right in no time. Make me strong to get a ship again. I arn’t begging, sir. Look here, gentlemen,” and he pulled one of his hands out of his pocket half full of silver.

“I say, Dean,” said Mark, “what are we to do?”

Dean shook his head helplessly. “We can’t take him: we’ve got two men already.”

“I say, look here,” said Mark; “I can’t do as I like, but I will ask my father, and I daresay he will pay your passage home to England.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the man, with a sigh, and he shook his head sadly, “but I don’t think I should live to get there.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!” cried Dean, and he looked so appealingly at the man that the poor fellow smiled.

“All right, sir, I won’t. They say drowning men catch at straws. I’m kind of drowning like, and when I hears as you gentlemen were going up the country, something seemed to say to me, try ’em, mate; it can’t do no harm. And when I see you two young gents I tried to speak, but somehow I couldn’t, and now I have—well, I have asked you, and you can’t, and I might have made sure of it before.”

“But you see—” began Dean.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” said the man. “Thank you all the same, and good luck to you both.”

He turned quickly and walked feebly away, the two boys watching him, both feeling that they must call him back; but somehow no words came.

“Oh, Dean,” cried Mark, at last, “how I do hate this place! Just as if it wasn’t miserable and disappointing enough before! If that poor fellow were not so bad I feel as if I should like to kick him for coming and telling us about how ill he had been. Just as if it was our fault! It is enough to make one turn ill oneself. Here, let’s go in out of this broiling heat or you will be going and catching sunstroke just out of spite.”

“Likely!” said Dean bitterly.

“Now, don’t you turn disagreeable. I know what you are thinking.”

“What?” cried Dean, in surprise.

“You are thinking that I might ask father to go to the expense of taking that poor fellow up the country. Why, he’d think I was mad.”

“I’d take him if I had got the money,” said Dean.

“So would I if I had got the money,” retorted Mark, “but I haven’t. Oh, there are our two chaps again,” cried the boy eagerly, as if glad to get away from the unpleasant subject. “They can see us, and are coming.”

The two gamekeepers came strolling up, and Dance saluted them with, “Nice day, gentlemen! Pity we arn’t got some of it at home. Shouldn’t want no coke for the old vinery.”

“No,” said Mark shortly. “Well, what do you think of an African port?”

“Don’t think nothing on it, sir. Do you, mate?”

“Think it’s a fine place to get away from,” replied his companion grinning uncomfortably. “Say, Mr Mark, don’t you wish you was at home?”

“Oh, don’t talk nonsense!” cried Mark angrily. “What’s the use of saying things like that? We wanted to come, and we have come.”

“But we are not going to stop here long, are we, Mr Mark, sir?”

“No, not long. Certainly not a week.”

“That’s a comfort, sir, because Peter Dance and me have been thinking that we should like to go and ask the gov’nor if he would send us back.”

“Then you ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” snapped out Dean, upon whom the scorching sun seemed to have the effect of taking the skin off his temper.

“Well, I don’t know about Bob here, sir, but I do feel that I was a fool for wanting to come,” said the keeper.

“Then you would both go,” cried Mark angrily, “and leave us in the lurch just because you don’t like this place?”

“Well, I put it to you, Mr Mark, sir,” said Bob, “speaking as gamekeepers, we thought we was coming out here to a beautiful country where it was going to be shooting all day long. And just look about you! Don’t it look as if it was the last place that was ever made?”

“I don’t know,” said Mark shortly, “but I didn’t expect that you two would have played the sneak as soon as there was a little trouble.”

“Who’s a-going to, Mr Mark, sir?” said Bob gruffly. “You asked us how we liked Africa, and we only as good as said we didn’t like it a tiny bit. We arn’t a-going to play the sneak; are we, Peter?”

“Not us,” grunted Dance. “I shouldn’t like to go and tell Sir James that; should you, Bob?”

“No–o!”

“Come along, Dean,” said Mark, turning from the men; and the boys walked away. “Let’s get indoors. I don’t know what’s come to me; I feel as if I could quarrel with everybody. Let’s go in and see if father’s awake yet.”

“Why, you can’t quarrel with him,” said Dean, staring in wonder at his cousin.

“Well, who said I could, stupid? Do you want to make me quarrel with you?”

“Yes, if you like. I feel as if a nice row would do me good. I’m miserable. It’s been a wretched voyage, bad weather all the time, and uncle cross, and the doctor wishing—I could see he was—nearly all the time, that he had never said a word about travelling; and now after longing to get to land we have been set down here.”

“Well,” said Mark, “you are a nice fellow to try and cheer one up! I had just said a word or two about how wretched I was and how I felt, and then you begin quarrelling.”