"Is it an animal, Dick?"

"Good gracious, no! I don't care twopence about an animal, except it
is for the pot, or unless it wants me for dinner. No; mine is
another search. It is connected with my father."

"Yes," said Venning, quietly; for his friend had suddenly grown
grave.

"When I was a little chap, about seventeen years ago, my mother
received a letter dated from the 'great forest.'"

"It contained only these words, 'Good-bye.' With it there was a
letter in Arabic, written by my father's headman. That letter was
seven months on its travels, and since then no other word have I
heard."

Venning muttered something in sympathy.

"My mother," continued the other, "died five years ago, without
having learnt the meaning of the message in Arabic. She had a wish
that no one but I should read the letter, and often she told me that
if it contained any instructions or directions, I was to carry them
out. Well, I have interpreted the Arabic signs."

"Yes, Dick; and----"

"And I can't quite make out the meaning. There is a reference to the
journal my father kept, with the statement that it was safely
hidden; but then follows a reference to a Garden of Rest, to certain