A Millionaire of Yesterday | Page 6

Trent laughed outright, easily and with real mirth. Yet in his heart were
sown already the seeds of a secret dread. There was a ring of passionate
truth in Monty's words. He believed what he was saying. Perhaps he
was right. The man's inborn hatred of a second or inferior place in
anything stung him. Were there to be any niches after all in the temple
of happiness to which he could never climb? He looked back rapidly,
looked down the avenue of a squalid and unlovely life, saw himself the
child of drink-sodden and brutal parents, remembered the Board School
with its unlovely surroundings, his struggles at a dreary trade, his
running away and the fierce draughts of delight which the joy and
freedom of the sea had brought to him on the morning when he had
crept on deck, a stowaway, to be lashed with every rope-end and to do

the dirty work of every one. Then the slavery at a Belgian settlement,
the job on a steamer trading along the Congo, the life at Buckomari,
and lastly this bold enterprise in which the savings of years were
invested. It was a life which called aloud for fortune some day or other
to make a little atonement. The old man was dreaming. Wealth would
bring him, uneducated though he was, happiness enough and to spare.
A footstep fell softly upon the turf outside. Trent sprang at once into an
attitude of rigid attention. His revolver, which for four days had been at
full cock by his side, stole out and covered the approaching shadow
stealing gradually nearer and nearer. The old man saw nothing, for he
slept, worn out with excitement and exhaustion.
CHAPTER II
A fat, unwholesome - looking creature, half native, half Belgian,
waddled across the open space towards the hut in which the two
strangers had been housed. He was followed at a little distance by two
sturdy natives bearing a steaming pot which they carried on a pole
between them. Trent set down his revolver and rose to his feet.
"What news, Oom Sam?" he asked. "Has the English officer been heard
of? He must be close up now."
"No news," the little man grunted. "The King, he send some of his own
supper to the white men. 'They got what they want,' he say. 'They start
work mine soon as like, but they go away from here.' He not like them
about the place! See!"
"Oh, that be blowed!" Trent muttered. "What's this in the pot? It don't
smell bad."
"Rabbit," the interpreter answered tersely. "Very good. Part King's own
supper. White men very favoured."
Trent bent over the pot which the two men had set upon the ground. He
took a fork from his belt and dug it in.

"Very big bones for a rabbit, Sam," he remarked doubtfully.
Sam looked away. "Very big rabbits round here," he remarked. "Best
keep pot. Send men away."
Trent nodded, and the men withdrew.
"Stew all right," Sam whispered confidentially. "You eat him. No fear.
But you got to go. King beginning get angry. He say white men not to
stay. They got what he promised, now they go. I know King - know
this people well! You get away quick. He think you want be King here!
You got the papers - all you want, eh?"
"Not quite, Sam," Trent answered. "There's an Englishman, Captain
Francis, on his way here up the Coast, going on to Walgetta Fort. He
must be here to-morrow. I want him to see the King's signature. If he's
a witness these niggers can never back out of the concession. They're
slippery devils. Another chap may come on with more rum and they'll
forget us and give him the right to work the mines too. See!"
"I see," Sam answered; "but him not safe to wait. You believe me. I
know these tam niggers. They take two days get drunk, then get devils,
four - raving mad. They drunk now. Kill any one to-morrow - perhaps
you. Kill you certain to-morrow night. You listen now!"
Trent stood up in the shadow of the overhanging roof. Every now and
then came a wild, shrill cry from the lower end of the village. Some one
was beating a frightful, cracked drum which they had got from a trader.
The tumult was certainly increasing. Trent swore softly, and then
looked irresolutely over his shoulder to where Monty was sleeping.
"If the worst comes we shall never get away quickly," he muttered.
"That old carcase can scarcely drag himself along."
Sam looked at him with cunning eyes.
"He not fit only die," he said softly. "He very old, very sick man, you
leave him here! I see to him."

Trent turned away in sick disgust.
"We'll be