my heart, and in the wisdom of thy makers,--then we shall be victorious
together!" He drew it out, looked along the edge. "Take," he said over
his shoulder to the old sword-bearer. The other, unmoved on his hams,
wiped the point with a corner of his sarong, and returning the weapon to
its scabbard, sat nursing it on his knees without a single look upwards.
Karain, suddenly very calm, reseated himself with dignity. We gave
up remonstrating after this, and let him go his way to an honourable
disaster. All we could do for him was to see to it that the powder was
good for the money and the rifles serviceable, if old.

But the game was becoming at last too dangerous; and if we, who had
faced it pretty often, thought little of the danger, it was decided for
us by some very respectable people sitting safely in counting-houses
that the risks were too great, and that only one more trip could be
made. After giving in the usual way many misleading hints as to our
destination, we slipped away quietly, and after a very quick passage
entered the bay. It was early morning, and even before the anchor went
to the bottom the schooner was surrounded by boats.

The first thing we heard was that Karain's mysterious sword-bearer had
died a few days ago. We did not attach much importance to the news.
It was certainly difficult to imagine Karain without his inseparable
follower; but the fellow was old, he had never spoken to one of us, we
hardly ever had heard the sound of his voice; and we had come to
look upon him as upon something inanimate, as a part of our friend's
trappings of state--like that sword he had carried, or the fringed red
umbrella displayed during an official progress. Karain did not visit us
in the afternoon as usual. A message of greeting and a present of fruit
and vegetables came off for us before sunset. Our friend paid us like a
banker, but treated us like a prince. We sat up for him till midnight.