the black when he thieves, and let the white man off when he thieves and
murders? If I did--well, I don't think I could strike a harder blow at
the white man's prestige.'

'I don't ask you to let him off. Only take him back to the coast. Let him
be hanged there privately.'

'And how many of these blacks would believe that he had been hanged?'
Drake turned away from the group and walked towards a hut which stood
some fifty yards from the camp fire. Three sentries were guarding the
door. Drake pushed the door open, entered, and closed it behind him. The
hut was pitch dark since a board had been nailed across the only opening.

'Gorley!' he said.

There was a rustling of boughs against the opposite wall, and a voice
answered from close to the ground.

'Damn you, what do you want?'

'Have you anything you wish to say?'

'That depends,' replied Gorley after a short pause, and his voice changed
to an accent of cunning.

'There's no bargain to be made.'

The words were spoken with a sharp precision, and again there was
a rustling of leaves as though Gorley had fallen back upon his bed
of branches.