"Back there," said the Frenchman, pointing in the direction whence
Mills had come. "'Bout five miles. You don' wan' to come, eh? Too
far, eh?"

"Yes, I reckon it's too far," replied Mills. "I'm not more than four
miles from my own kia now. You goin' on?"

"Yais," agreed the Frenchman. "I go a leetle bit. Not too far, eh!"

They moved on through the bush. Mills shifted his; gun from shoulder
to shoulder, and suffered still from heat and sweat. His taller
companion went more easily, striding along as Mills thought, glancing
at him, "like a fox." The warmth appeared not to distress him in the
least.

"By Jove," exclaimed the trader. "You're the build of man for this
blooming country. You travel as if you was born to it. Don't the heat
trouble you at all?"

"Oh no," answered the Frenchman carelessly. "You see, I come from a
'ot country. In France it is ver' often 'ot. But you don' like it,
eh?"

"No," said the trader, with emphasis. "I was after pea-hen, or you
wouldn't see me out this time o' the day. English chaps can't stand
it."

"Eh?"