A Millionaire of Yesterday | Page 4

- you are troubled with
nothing of the sort. Therefore if these surroundings, this discomfort, not
to mention the appalling overtures of our lady friends, are distressing to
you, why, consider how much more so they must be to me!"
Trent smiled very faintly, but he said nothing. He was sitting
cross-legged with his back against one of the poles which supported the
open hut, with his eyes fixed upon the cloud of mist hanging over a
distant swamp. A great yellow moon had stolen over the low range of
stony hills - the mist was curling away in little wreaths of gold. Trent
was watching it, but if you had asked him he would have told you that
he was wondering when the alligators came out to feed, and how near
the village they ventured. Looking at his hard, square face and keen,
black eyes no one would surely have credited him with any less
material thoughts.
"Furthermore," the man whom Trent had addressed as Monty continued,
"there arises the question of danger and physical suitability to the
situation. Contrast our two cases, my dear young friend. I am
twenty-five years older than you, I have a weak heart, a ridiculous

muscle, and the stamina of a rabbit. My fighting days are over. I can
shoot straight, but shooting would only serve us here until our
cartridges were gone - when the rush came a child could knock me over.
You, on the contrary, have the constitution of an ox, the muscles of a
bull, and the wind of an ostrich. You are, if you will pardon my saying
so, a magnificent specimen of the animal man. In the event of trouble
you would not hesitate to admit that your chances of escape would be
at least double mine. Trent lit a match under pretence of lighting his
pipe - in reality because only a few feet away he had seen a pair of
bright eyes gleaming at them through a low shrub. A little native boy
scuttled away - as black as night, woolly-headed, and shiny; he had
crept up unknown to look with fearful eyes upon the wonderful white
strangers. Trent threw a lump of earth at him and laughed as he dodged
it.
"Well, go ahead, Monty," he said. "Let's hear what you're driving at.
What a gab you've got to be sure!"
Monty waved his hand - a magnificent and silencing gesture.
"I have alluded to these matters," he continued, "merely in order to
show you that the greater share of danger and discomfort in this
expedition falls to my lot. Having reminded you of this, Trent, I refer to
the concluding sentence of your last speech. The words indicated, as I
understood them, some doubt of our ability to see this thing through."
He paused, peering over to where Trent was sitting with grim,
immovable face, listening with little show of interest. He drew a long,
deep breath and moved over nearer to the doorway. His manner was
suddenly changed.
"Scarlett Trent," he cried, "Scarlett Trent, listen to me! You are young
and I am old! To you this may be one adventure amongst many - it is
my last. I've craved for such a chance as this ever since I set foot in this
cursed land. It's come late enough, too late almost for me, but I'm going
through with it while there's breath in my body. Swear to me now that
you will not back out! Do you hear, Trent? Swear!"

Trent looked curiously at his companion, vastly interested in this
sudden outburst, in the firmness of his tone and the tightening of the
weak mouth. After all, then, the old chap had some grit in him. To
Trent, who had known him for years as a broken-down hanger-on of
the settlement at Buckomari, a drunkard, gambler, a creature to all
appearance hopelessly gone under, this look and this almost passionate
appeal were like a revelation. He stretched out his great hand and patted
his companion on the back - a proceeding which obviously caused him
much discomfort.
"Bravo, old cockie!" he said. "Didn't imagine you'd got the grit. You
know I'm not the chap to be let down easy. We'll go through with it,
then, and take all chances! It's my game right along. Every copper I've
got went to pay the bearers here and to buy the kickshaws and rum for
old What's-his-name, and I'm not anxious to start again as a pauper.
We'll stay here till we get our concessions, or till they bury us, then! It's
a go!"
Monty - no one at Buckomari had ever known of any other name for
him - stretched out a long hand, with delicate tapering fingers, and let it
rest for a moment