"Right you are," said Mills heartily. "Come along then!"

They strode off in the direction of the drift, Mills going
thoughtfully, with an occasional glance at his companion. The
Frenchman smiled perpetually, and once he laughed out.

"What's the joke?" demanded the trader.

"I think I do a good piece of business to-day," replied the
Frenchman.

"H'm, yes," continued Mills suspiciously.

It was a longish uphill walk to the trader's store, and the night
fell while they were yet on the way. With the darkness came a breeze,
cool and refreshing; the sky filled with sharp points of light, and
the bush woke with a new life. The crackle of their boots on the
stiff grass as they walked sent live things scattering to left and
right, and once a night-adder hissed malevolently at the Frenchman's
heel. They talked little as they went, but Mills noticed that now and
again his companion appeared to check a laugh. He experienced a
feeling of vague indignation against the man who had saved his life;
he was selfish in not sharing his point of view and the thoughts
which amused him. At times reserve can be the most selfish thing
imaginable, and one might as well be reticent on a desert island as
in Manicaland. Moreover, despite the tolerant manners of the country,
Mills was conscious of something unexplained in his companion--
something which engendered a suspicion on general grounds.

The circle of big dome-shaped huts which constituted the store of