"Anyhow, the poor dear won't overtake me to-day," he said--only to find the "poor dear" had stowed herself away on the steamer in the night behind a pile of wood. * * * * * "It's very awkward," said Hamilton, and coughed. Bones looked at his chief pathetically. "It's doocid awkward, sir," he agreed dismally. "You say she won't go back?" Bones shook his head. "She said I'm the moon and the sun an' all sorts of rotten things to her, sir," he groaned and wiped his forehead. "Send her to me," said Hamilton. "Be kind to her, sir," pleaded the miserable Bones. "After all, sir, the poor girl seems to be fond of me, sir--the human heart, sir--I don't know why she should take a fancy to me." "That's what I want to know," said Hamilton, briefly; "if she _is_ mad, I'll send her to the mission hospital along the Coast." "You've a hard and bitter heart," said Bones, sadly. D'riti came ready to flash her anger and eloquence at Hamilton; on the verge of defiance. "D'riti," said Hamilton, "to-morrow I send you back to your people." "Lord, I stay with Tibbetti who loves women and is happy to talk of them. Also some day I shall be his wife, for this is foretold." She shot a tender glance at poor Bones. "That cannot be," said Hamilton calmly, "for Tibbetti has three wives, and they are old and fierce----" "Oh, lord!" wailed Bones. "And they would beat you and make you carry wood and water," Hamilton said; he saw the look of apprehension steal into the girl's face. "And more than this, D'riti, the Lord Tibbetti is mad when the moon is in full, he foams at the mouth and bites, uttering awful noises." "Oh, dirty trick!" almost sobbed Bones. "Go, therefore, D'riti," said Hamilton, "and I will give you a piece of fine cloth, and beads of many colours." It is a matter of history that D'riti went. "I don't know what you think of me, sir," said Bones, humbly, "of course I couldn't get rid of her----" "You didn't try," said Hamilton, searching his pockets for his pipe. "You could have made her drop you like a shot." "How, sir?" "Stuck your finger in her eye," said Hamilton, and Bones swallowed hard. CHAPTER VII THE STRANGER WHO WALKED BY NIGHT Since the day when Lieutenant Francis Augustus Tibbetts rescued from the sacrificial trees the small brown baby whom he afterwards christened Henry Hamilton Bones, the interests of that young officer were to a very large extent extremely concentrated upon that absorbing problem which a famous journal once popularized, "What shall we do with our boys?" As to the exact nature of the communications which Bones made to England upon the subject, what hairbreadth escapes and desperate adventure he detailed with that facile pen of his, who shall say?