evil from his face.

"White man," he said, "I can protect you no longer. The Asiki messengers
have been with us again and they say that unless we give you up
to-morrow at the dawn, their army will push on ahead of us and destroy
my town, which is two days' march down the river, and all the women and
children in it, and that afterwards they will fight a great battle with
us. Therefore my people say that I must give you up, or that if I do not
they will elect another chief and do so themselves."

"Then you will give up a dead man, Fahni."

"Friend," said the old chief in a low voice, "the night is dark and the
forest not so far away. Moreover, I have set no guards on that side of
the river, and Jeekie here does not forget a road that he has travelled.
Lastly, I have heard it said that there are some other white people with
soldiers camped in the edge of the forest. Now, if you were not here in
the morning, how could I give you up?"

"I understand, Fahni. You have done your best for me, and now,
good-night. Jeekie and I are going to take a walk. Sometimes you will
think of the months we spent together in Bonsa-Town, will you not?"

"Yes, and of you also, white man, for so long as I shall live. Walk
fast and far, for the Asiki are clever at following a spoor. Good-night,
Friend, and to you, Jeekie the cunning, good-night also. I go to tell my
captains that I will surrender you at dawn," and without more words he
vanished out of their sight and out of their lives.

Meanwhile Jeekie, foreseeing the issue of this talk, was already engaged