"What do you say?"

"You pay me? Good. In night Muata is loose. He run up river. Bymby
master go along in little boat, pick Muata up, eh? What you pay?"
and the boy chuckled softly.

"Suppose I tell your white master, you rascal?"

"Wow! You tell, they kill poor Zanzibar boy."

"Then clear out," said Compton, launching a kick; "and if I see any
more of you I will tell."

The boy turned sulky. "Me guard--me stay."

"You go," said Compton, "or I will call your masters, and let them
deal with you."

Growling under his breath, the self-styled "guard" slunk soft-footed
out of the room. Compton struck a match and looked around the
apartment, then turned to Venning with a grin.

"That is the game," he whispered.

"I think I understand," Venning replied softly. "That fellow was
testing you?"

Compton nodded.