"I'll show you," Trent answered, taking a paper from his knapsack.
"You see, it's like this. There are two places near this show where
I've found gold. No use blowing about it down at Buckomari - the
fellows there haven't the nerve of a kitten. This cursed climate
has sapped it all out of them, I reckon. Monty and I clubbed
together and bought presents for his Majesty, the boss here, and
Monty wrote out this little document - sort of concession to us to
sink mines and work them, you see. The old buffer signed it like
winking, directly he spotted the rum, but we ain't quite happy about
it; you see, it ain't to be supposed that he's got a conscience,
and there's only us saw him put his mark there. We'll have to raise
money to work the thing upon this, and maybe there'll be difficulties.
So what we thought was this. Here's an English officer coining;
let's get him to witness it, and then if the King don't go on the
square, why, it's a Government matter."

Captain Francis lit a cigarette and smoked thoughtfully for a moment
or two.

"I don't quite see," he said, "why we should risk a row for the sake
of you two."

Trent snorted.

"Look here," he said; "I suppose you know your business. You don't
want me to tell you that a decent excuse for having a row with this
old Johnny is about the best thing that could happen to you. He's
a bit too near the borders of civilisation to be a decent savage.
Sooner or later some one will have to take him under their protection.