Lamont was nothing if not downright, and would never say a thing he did not mean. Peters knew this, wherefore he began to feel mightily uncomfortable, and wished he hadn't brought the stranger along. But then Ancram had asked him point-blank if he could tell him where to find Lamont, who was a friend of his, and whom he had heard was settled somewhere in these parts; and he had received the question with a great roar of laughter, replying that no man in all Rhodesia was more fully qualified to give him that very information. But if this outsider's presence was going to prove a thorn in the side of his friend,--rather than do anything to annoy whom he would have cut off his right hand,-- why, the sooner they scooted him off the better, decided Peters. Aloud he said-- "Here's luck, Ancram. What would you have given for this jolly long drink when you were strolling about in the _doorstland_, hey?" "Just about all I was worth," laughed the other, sending down the remains of his whisky-and-selzogene with infinite gusto. "I'm afraid you'll find these quarters a bit rough, Ancram," said Lamont. "New country, you know, and all that kind of thing." The other protested that he liked nothing better than roughing it, and how awfully jolly it was to run against Lamont again. But even he was conscious of a something which restrained him from making further reference to Courtland. Outwardly Ancram was a tall, well-built fellow, several years younger than Lamont. He was good-looking, but the face was one of a very ordinary type, with nothing about it to stamp itself upon the recollection. As a fellow-guest at Courtland, Lamont had rather disliked him for his own sake, and still more because he had tried to get between himself and Violet. Moreover, Ancram had been among those who muttered against him on the bank of the frozen mere what time his _fiancee_ had put upon him that abominable and unmerited insult. And now the fellow turned up here, claiming his hospitality, and talking to him as if he was his dearest friend. "Excuse my seeming inhospitality, Ancram," he said. "I must go and help give an eye to the off-loading, but if you like to go in there you'll find all the ingredients for a wash-up. We shall have supper directly." "Oh, that's quite all right, old chap," was the airy reply, "By the way, I'll come with you." Outside, by the light of three or four lanterns, several natives were busily unloading the donkey-carts and transferring their contents to the strongly-built hut which constituted the store-room: bags and boxes, and pockets of sugar, and packages of candles and soap--all sorts of necessaries and a few luxuries. "Aha!" laughed Peters, shaking one case; "was beginning to think this had been forgotten. What'd become of us then, hey, Ancram?" "Why, what is it?" "Scotch. Pother's Squareface. Well, we're nearly through now, and I shan't be sorry to get my champers into a steak of that sable."