A Millionaire of Yesterday | Page 7

off to-morrow, Sam," he said shortly. "I say! I'm beastly
hungry. What's in that pot?"
Sam spread out the palms of his hands.
"He all right, I see him cooked," he declared. "He two rabbits and one
monkey."
Trent took out a plate and helped himself.
"All right," he said. "Be off now. We'll go to-morrow before these
towsly-headed beauties are awake."
Sam nodded and waddled off. Trent threw a biscuit and hit his
companion on the cheek.
"Here, wake up, Monty!" he exclaimed. "Supper's come from the royal
kitchen. Bring your plate and tuck in!"
Monty struggled to his feet and came meekly towards where the pot
stood simmering upon the ground.
"I'm not hungry, Trent," he said, "but I am very thirsty, very thirsty
indeed. My throat is all parched. I am most uncomfortable. Really I
think your behaviour with regard to the brandy is most unkind and
ungenerous; I shall be ill, I know I shall. Won't you - "
"No, I won't," Trent interrupted. "Now shut up all that rot and eat
something."
"I have no appetite, thank you," Monty answered, with sulky dignity.
"Eat something, and don't be a silly ass!" Trent insisted. "We've a hard
journey before us, and you'll need all the strength in your carcase to
land in Buckomari again. Here, you've dropped some of your precious
rubbish."

Trent stooped forward and picked up what seemed to him at first to be
a piece of cardboard from the ground. He was about to fling it to its
owner, when he saw that it was a photograph. It was the likeness of a
girl, a very young girl apparently, for her hair was still down her back
and her dress was scarcely of the orthodox length. It was not
particularly well taken, but Trent had never seen anything like it before.
The lips were slightly parted, the deep eyes were brimming with
laughter, the pose was full of grace, even though the girl's figure was
angular. Trent had seen as much as this, when he felt the smart of a
sudden blow upon the cheek, the picture was snatched from his hand,
and Monty - his face convulsed with anger - glowered fiercely upon
him.
"You infernal young blackguard! You impertinent meddling blockhead!
How dare you presume to look at that photograph! How dare you, sir!
How dare you!"
Trent was too thoroughly astonished to resent either the blow or the
fierce words. He looked up into his aggressor's face in blank surprise.
"I only looked at it," he muttered. "It was lying on the floor."
"Looked at it! You looked at it! Like your confounded impertinence, sir!
Who are you to look at her! If ever I catch you prying into my concerns
again, I'll shoot you - by Heaven I will!"
Trent laughed sullenly, and, having finished eating, lit his pipe.
"Your concerns are of no interest to me," he said shortly; "keep 'em to
yourself - and look here, old 'un, keep your hands off me! I ain't a safe
man to hit let me tell you. Now sit down and cool off! I don't want any
more of your tantrums."
Then there was a long silence between the two men. Monty sat where
Trent had been earlier in the night at the front of the open hut, his eyes
fixed upon the ever-rising moon, his face devoid of intelligence, his
eyes dim. The fire of the last few minutes had speedily burnt out. His
half-soddened brain refused to answer to the sudden spasm of memory

which had awakened a spark of the former man. If he had thoughts at
all, they hung around that brandy bottle. The calm beauty of the
African night could weave no spell upon him. A few feet behind, Trent,
by the light of the moon, was practising tricks with a pack of greasy
cards. By and by a spark of intelligence found its way into Monty's
brain. He turned round furtively.
"Trent," he said, "this is slow! Let us have a friendly game - you and I."
Trent yawned.
"Come on, then," he said. "Single Poker or Euchre, eh?"
"I do not mind," Monty replied affably. "Just which you prefer."
"Single Poker, then," Trent said.
"And the stakes?"
"We've nothing left to play for," Trent answered gloomily, "except
cartridges."
Monty made a wry face. "Poker for love, my dear Trent," he said,
"between you and me, would lack all the charm of excitement. It would
be, in fact, monotonous! Let us exercise our ingenuity. There must be
something still of value in our possession.
He relapsed into an affectation of thoughtfulness. Trent watched him
curiously. He knew quite well that his partner was dissembling, but he
scarcely saw to what end. Monty's eyes, moving round the