Venning's uneasiness returned. He tossed restlessly, listening to
the unaccustomed noises from without, and as the hours went by, and
at last the sound of talking about the fires died off in a lazy
drone, the desire to see what had become of Muata was too strong to
resist. Softly he lowered himself to the earth-floor, but, soft as
he moved, others had heard.

"Are the mosquitoes troublesome?"

Venning started at the deep voice so unexpected. "I did not know you
were awake, sir."

"I sleep very lightly my boy."

"As you are awake, sir, I would like to say----"

But he stopped as the mat rustled.

"Come in," said Mr. Hume.

"Me guard, great master"--in the same soft, oily tones Venning had
heard before. "Hear noise. Think may be thieves."

"Mosquitoes, not thieves," said Mr. Hume, quietly. "Bring a light."

The Zanzibar boy complied, and, holding a taper above his head,
looked not for mosquitoes, but at the rifles in the corner.

"The skeeters, master," he muttered, with an evil squint at Compton,
who was blinking at the light.