Cuthbert, who dabbled in stocks and shares, was an acquisition to any syndicate, and on the understanding that part of his duty would be the obtaining of the concession, he gladly financed the syndicate to the extent of seven thousand pounds, four thousand of which Messrs. Isidore and McPherson very kindly returned to him to cover the cost of his expedition. The other three thousand were earmarked for office expenses. As Mr. McPherson truly said: "Whatever happens, we're on velvet, my boy," which was perfectly true. Before Cuthbert sailed, McPherson offered him a little advice. "Whatever you do," he said, "steer clear of that dam' Commissioner Sanders. He's one of those pryin', interferin'----" "I know the breed," said Cuthbert wisely. "This is not my first visit to Africa. Did I ever tell you about the lion I shot in Uganda?" A week later he sailed. * * * * * In course of time came a strange white man through Sanders' domain. This white man, who was Cuthbert, was following the green path to death--but this he did not know. He threw his face to the forest, as the natives say, and laughed, and the people of the village of O'Tembi, standing before their wattle huts, watched him in silent wonder. It was a wide path between huge trees, and the green of the undergrowth was flecked with sunlight, and, indeed, the green path was beautiful to the eye, being not unlike a parkland avenue. N'Beki, chief of this village of the O'Tembi, a very good old man, went out to the path when the white man began his journey. "White man," he said solemnly, "this is the road to hell, where all manner of devils live. Night brings remorse, and dawn brings self-hatred, which is worse than death." Cuthbert, whose Swaheli was faulty, and whose Bomongo talk was nil, grinned impatiently as his coastboy translated unpicturesquely. "Dam nigger done say, this be bad place, no good; he say bimeby you libe for die." "Tell him to go to blazes!" said Cuthbert noisily; "and, look here, Flagstaff, ask him where the rubber is, see? Tell him we know all about the forest, and ask him about the elephants, where their playground is?" Cuthbert was broad-shouldered and heavily built, and under his broad sun-helmet his face was very hot and moist. "Tell the white man," said the chief quietly, "there is no rubber within seven days' journey, and that we do not know ivory; elephants there were _cala cala_--but not now." "He's a liar!" was Cuthbert's only comment. "Get these beggars moving, Flagstaff. Hi, _alapa', avanti, trek_!" "These beggars," a straggling line of them, resumed their loads uncomplainingly. They were good carriers, as carriers go, and only two had died since the march began. Cuthbert stood and watched them pass, using his stick dispassionately upon the laggards. Then he turned to go. "Ask him," he said finally, "why he calls this the road to what-d'ye-call-it?" The old man shook his head. "Because of the devils," he said simply.