Before de Costa had time to cry out--which he had certainly intended to do--Crouch's hand had closed upon his mouth, and he was held in a grip of iron.

"Keep still!" said Crouch, in a quick whisper. "Struggle, and you die."

The man was terrified. He was racked by fever, nerve-shattered and weak. At the best he was a coward. But now he was in no state of health to offer resistance to any man; and in the candle-light Crouch, with his single eye and his great chin, looked too ferocious to describe.

For all that the little sea-captain's voice was quiet, and even soothing.

"You have nothing to fear," said he. "I don't intend to harm you. I have only one thing to say: if you cry out, or call for assistance, I'll not hesitate to shoot. On the other hand, if you lie quiet and silent, I promise, on my word of honour, that you have nothing whatsoever to fear. I merely wish to ask you a few questions. You need not answer them unless you wish to. Now, may I take my hand from your mouth?"

De Costa nodded his head, and Crouch drew away his hand. The half-caste lay quite still. It was obvious that he had been frightened out of his life, which had served to some extent to heighten the fever which so raged within him.

"Come," said Crouch; "I'll doctor you. Your nerves are all shaken. Have you any bromide?"

"Yes," said de Costa; "over there."

He pointed in the direction of a shelf upon the wall, which had been constructed of a piece of a packing-case. On this shelf was a multitude of bottles. Crouch examined these, and at last laid hands upon one containing a colourless fluid, like water, and handed it to the patient to drink. De Costa drained it at a gulp, and then sank back with a sigh of relief.

Crouch felt his pulse.

"You're weak," said he, "terribly weak. If you don't get out of this country soon you'll die. Do you know that?"

"I do," said de Costa; "I think of it every day."

"You don't wish to die?" said Crouch.

"I wish to live."

There was something pitiful in the way he said that. He almost whined. Here was a man who was paying the debt that the white man owes to Africa. In this great continent, which even to-day is half unknown, King Death rules from the Sahara to the veld. A thousand pestilences rage in the heart of the great steaming forests, that strike down their victims with promptitude, and which are merciless as they are swift. It seems as if a curse is on this country. It is as if before the advance of civilization a Power, greater by far than the combined resources of men, arises from out of the darkness of the jungle and the miasma of the mangrove swamp, and strikes down the white man, as a pole-axe fells an ox.

De Costa, though he was but half a European, was loaded with the white man's burden, with the heart of only a half-caste to see him through. Crouch, despite the roughness of his manner, attended at his bedside with the precision of a practised nurse. There was something even tender in the way he smoothed the man's pillow; and when he spoke, there was a wealth of sympathy in his voice.

"You are better now?" he asked.

"Yes," said de Costa; "I am better."

"Lie still and rest," said Crouch. "Perhaps you are glad enough to have some one to talk to you. I want you to listen to what I have to say."

Crouch seated himself at the end of the bed, and folded his thin, muscular hands upon his knee.

"I am not a doctor by profession," he began, "but, in the course of my life, I've had a good deal of experience of the various diseases which are met with in these parts of the world. I know enough to see that your whole constitution is so undermined that it is absolutely necessary for you to get out of the country. Now I want to ask you a question."

"What is it?" said de Costa. His voice was very weak.

"Which do you value most, life or wealth?"

The little half-caste smiled.

"I can see no good in wealth," said he, "when you're dead."

"That is true," said Crouch. "No one would dispute it--except yourself."

"But I admit it!" said de Costa.

"You admit it in words," said the other, "but you deny it in your life."

"I am too ill to understand. Please explain."

Crouch leaned forward and tapped the palm of his left hand with the forefinger of his right.

"You say," said he, "that you know that you'll die if you remain here. Yet you remain here in order to pile up a great fortune to take back with you to Jamaica or Portugal, wherever you intend to go. But you will take nothing back, because you will die. You are therefore courting death. I repeat your own words: what will be the use of all this wealth to you after you are dead?"

De Costa sat up in his bed.

"It's true!" he cried in a kind of groan.

"H'sh!" said Crouch. "Be quiet! Don't raise your voice."

De Costa rocked his head between his knees.

"It's true--true--true!" he whined. "I know it. I shall die. I don't want this money. I want to live. I--I fear to die." His voice trembled. He was pitiful to see.

"You shall not die," said Crouch; "I'll make it my business to see that you live. I can't cure you, but I can keep you alive till we reach the coast. There, one week on the sea will restore your health."

"That's what I want," said de Costa, "the sea air. Oh, for a breath of the sea!"

"I'll take you down with us," Crouch ran on. "I'll doctor you on the way. Max Harden is a young man of science. He has studied these things, and with his knowledge and my experience we'll pull you through. In three months from now, I promise you, you shall set eyes upon the ocean."

"How glorious!" the poor man cried. He looked into Crouch's face, and there were large tears in his eyes.

"Stay," said Crouch; "I've not come here for philanthropic purposes. If I do this for you, you must do something for me. Otherwise you can stay here--and die."

"What is it you want?"

Crouch bent forward and whispered in the man's ear, speaking distinctly and with great deliberation.

"I want to know what's inside the padlocked chest that CÆsar keeps in his hut. Come, out with the truth!"

On the instant the man sprang out of bed and seized Crouch by the wrists. He was so little master of himself that hot tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was shaking in every limb. It was as if his neck was not strong enough to support his head, which swung round and round.

"Not that!" he screamed. "For pity's sake, not that!"

"Come," said Crouch; "the truth."

De Costa drew back. "I daren't," said he.

"Why?"

"Because he--would kill me."

"Look here, you have to choose between two men," said Crouch: "CÆsar and myself. Trust me, and I'll see you through. You told me you had heard of me before. You may have heard it said that I'm a man who sticks to his word through thick and thin, once it has been given."

As Crouch said this he noticed a remarkable change that came on a sudden upon de Costa's face. The man's complexion turned livid; his jaw dropped; his eyes were staring hard over Crouch's shoulder, in the direction of the door.

Crouch whipped round upon his heel, his revolver in his hand, and found that he stood face to face with CÆsar.

"By Christopher," said he, "you're mighty silent!"

"And may I ask," said CÆsar, "what you are doing here?"

Crouch made a motion of his hand towards de Costa, who had sunk down upon the bed.

"This man's ill," said he; "in fact, he's dying."

"He is always dying," said CÆsar, "and he never dies. He has the vitality of a monkey."

"It doesn't seem to distress you much," said Crouch. "Since you have lived together for two years, in a forsaken spot like this, I should have thought that you were friends."

CÆsar threw out his hand.

"Ah," he cried, "we are the best friends in the world--de Costa and myself."

He stood looking down upon Crouch, with his white teeth gleaming between his black moustache and his beard. In that light it was difficult to see whether he smiled or sneered. There was something mysterious about the man, and something that was fiendish.

"And so," he ran on, "Captain Crouch has taken upon himself the duties of medical officer of Makanda? I'm sure we are much obliged."

"I have some experience of medicine," said the captain.

"Indeed," said CÆsar. "And do you always operate with a revolver?"

For once in his life, Crouch had been caught off his guard.

"In this country," he said, "I am seldom without one."

"You are wise," said CÆsar. "I myself am always prepared."

With a man like Crouch, this kind of verbal sword-play could never last for long. He was too much a creature of impulse. He liked to speak his mind, and he hated and mistrusted this thin Portuguese as a mongoose hates a snake.

"There are no laws in this country," said he, "and there are certain times when it's not a bad principle to shoot at sight. In the civilized world, a man goes about with his reputation on the sleeve of his coat, and all men may know him for what he is. But here, in the midst of these benighted forests, one must often act on instinct. To kill at sight, that's the law of the jungle; and when men come here, they'd do well to leave behind them what they know of other laws respecting life and property and rights. If I'm wise to carry a revolver, perhaps I'm a fool because I hesitate to use it."

Here was a plain speaking, an outright honesty that quite disarmed the Portuguese. If, hitherto, CÆsar had held the upper hand, Captain Crouch had now turned the tables. Whether warfare be carried on by words or amid the clash of arms, the victory lies with him who best knows his mind. And Captain Crouch did that. It was as if he had thrown a gauntlet at the tall man's feet, and defied him to pick it up.

But CÆsar was never willing to fight. His was a quick, calculating brain, and he knew that the odds would be against him. Listening outside the hut, he had overheard the greater part of the conversation which had taken place between Crouch and the fever-stricken half-caste. His secret, which he kept under lock and key in the strong chest at the foot of his bed, he was prepared to guard at every cost. He saw now that Crouch was an adversary not to be despised. It was necessary for him to take steps to seal de Costa's lips.

Though the man no longer showed it in his face, CÆsar was by no means pleased at the appearance of the Englishmen. Though he was affable and polite, all the time he was scheming in his mind how to get rid of them as quickly as he could. For the present, he decided to bide his time, hoping that, sooner or later, Fate might play into his hands. Whatever happened, he was determined that they should not suspect him of any sinister intention, and on that account it behoved him to keep up an appearance of friendship. He answered Crouch with all the pleasantry of manner he had at his command.

"Captain Crouch," said he, "you are a man after my own heart. I also respect the laws of the jungle. I have shaken the dust of civilization from my feet. It is only the strong man who can do so. In you I recognize an equal."

In his heart, Crouch stigmatized such talk as this as high-falutin' nonsense. Still, he thought it unwise to hatch a quarrel with the man, and answered with a kind of grunt.

"I suppose you're right," said he.

"And what of our poor invalid?" said CÆsar, turning to de Costa.

Side by side, these two men, who were already sworn enemies in secret, bent over the prostrate figure of the half-caste. De Costa lay with one arm hanging listlessly over the side of the bed. His eyelids were half-closed, and underneath the whites of his eyes could be seen. When a man sleeps like that, he is in a bad way. The sands of life are running down.

"He's asleep," said Crouch. "That's all he wants. The fever has subsided. He'll be much better to-morrow. Let us leave him."

Together they went out. The little sea-captain walked back to his hut, and threw himself down upon his blankets. As for CÆsar, he remained standing in the moonlight, with his long fingers playing in his beard.

For some minutes he remained quite motionless. The silence of the night was still disturbed by the strange sounds that came from out of the forest. The man seemed plunged in thought. Presently a soft, moist nose was thrust into the palm of his hand, and looking down, he beheld his great dog, which, unable to sleep by reason of the heat, had followed her master into the moonlight.

"Gyp," said he, in a soft voice--"Gyp, old friend, how are we to get rid of these accursed Englishmen?"

The dog looked up, and licked her master's hand.

"Come, Gyp," said CÆsar; "come and think it out."

He entered his hut, and sat down upon the great, padlocked chest. There, he took the dog's head between his knees. She was a Great Dane, and even larger and more powerful than the majority of her kind.

"Do you know this, Gyp," said he: "de Costa can't be trusted? Fortunately, you and I, Gyp, know a way to make him hold his tongue."

At that, the man laughed softly to himself.

Meanwhile, in the other hut, the quick brain of Captain Crouch was not idle. He had learnt much that night; but the secret was still unsolved. He had not been slow in discovering the weak point in CÆsar's line of defence: the little half-caste could be induced to speak the truth. That the man was not an ivory trader, Crouch was fully convinced. Indeed, he could be no sort of trader at all, because there was no direct line of communication from Makanda to the Coast. Try as he might, Crouch could find no answer to the riddle; and in the end, like CÆsar, he resolved to bide his time.

Before he went to sleep, he awakened Max.

"Max," said he, "I want you to keep watch till daybreak. Keep your eyes open, and if any one enters the hut, give him 'hands up' on the spot."

"Have you discovered anything?" asked Max.

"Nothing," said Crouch, "except that de Costa's our friend's weak point. Given half a chance, I will find out the truth from him. But CÆsar suspects us, as much as we suspect him; and, from what I have seen of the man, I'm inclined to think that he'll stick at nothing. We must never cease to be on our guard. Keep on the alert, and wake me up if you see or hear anything suspicious."

At that Crouch turned over on his side, and this time actually fell asleep.

Max Harden sat with his back to the wall of the hut, his loaded revolver in his hand. Through the doorway, above the rampart of the stockade, he could see the march of the tropical stars, as the Southern Cross dropped lower and lower in the heavens. As it drew nearer to daybreak, the sounds of the jungle ceased. Even in these latitudes there is a time, about an hour before the dawn, when all Nature seems hushed and still; the great beasts of prey retire to rest, foodless or with their appetites appeased--more often the first, and it is not before the first streaks of daybreak are visible in the eastern sky that the large minor world, of beast and bird and reptile, awakens to the day.

Max obeyed his orders to the letter. Hour by hour, he remained perfectly motionless, with every sense on the alert. He was beginning to think that the fears and suspicions of Crouch were entirely baseless, when, on a sudden, the eternal stillness was broken by a shriek, piercing and unearthly, that was lifted from somewhere near at hand.

Springing to his feet, he rushed forth from the hut. And as he did so, the shriek was repeated, louder than before.