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.
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