"You're
Captain Francis," he said. "We've been waiting for you."
The statement appeared to annoy the Explorer. He looked nervously
at the two men and about the hut.
"I don't know how the devil you got to hear of my coming, or what
you want with me," he answered brusquely. "Are you both English?"
Trent assented, waving his hand towards his companion in
introductory fashion.
"That's my pal, Monty," he said. "We're both English right enough."
Monty raised a flushed face and gazed with bloodshot eyes at the
man who was surveying him so calmly. Then he gave a little gurgling
cry and turned away. Captain Francis started and moved a step
towards him. There was a puzzled look in his face - as though he
were making an effort to recall something familiar.
"What is the matter with him?" he asked Trent.
"Drink!"
"Then why the devil don't you see that he doesn't get too much?"
the newcomer said sharply. "Don't you know what it means in this
climate? Why, he's on the high-road to a fever now. Who on this
earth is it he reminds me of?"
Trent laughed shortly.
"There's never a man in Buckomari - no, nor in all Africa - could
keep Monty from the drink," he said. "Live with him for a month
and try it. It wouldn't suit you - I don't think.
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