He watched the Commissioner walk through the camp, speaking to one man after another in a strange tongue. A singular, masterful man this, thought Mainward. Would he have mastered Ethel? He watched the stranger with curious eyes, and noted how his own lazy devils of carriers jumped at his word. "Good-night," said Sanders' voice; and Mainward looked up. "You must take another of these pellets, and to-morrow you'll be as fit as a donkey-engine. I've got to get back to my camp to-night, or I shall find half my stores stolen in the morning; but if you'd rather I stopped----" "No, no," replied the other hastily. He wanted to be alone. He had lots of matters to settle with himself. There was the question of Ethel, for instance. "You won't forget to take the tabloid?" "No. I say, I'm awfully obliged to you for coming. You've been a good white citizen." Sanders smiled. "Don't talk nonsense!" he said good-humouredly. "This is all brotherly love. White to white, and kin to kin, don't you know? We're all alone here, and there isn't a man of our colour within five hundred miles. Good-night, and please take the tabloid----" Mainward lay listening to the noise of departure. He thought he heard a little bell tingle. That must be for the engines. Then he heard the puck-a-puck of the wheel--so that was how the steamer got its name. Abiboo came with some milk. "You take um medicine, master?" he inquired. "I take um," murmured Mainward; but the green tabloid was underneath his pillow. Then there began to steal over him a curious sensation of content. He did not analyse it down to its first cause. He had had sufficient introspective exercise for one day. It came to him as a pleasant shock to realise that he was happy. He opened his eyes and looked round. His bed was laid in the open, and he drew aside the curtains of his net to get a better view. A little man was walking briskly toward him along the velvet stretch of grass that sloped down from the glade, and Mainward whistled. "Atty," he gasped. "By all that's wonderful." Atty, indeed, it was: the same wizened Atty as of yore; but no longer pulling the long face to which Mainward had been accustomed. The little man was in his white riding-breeches, his diminutive top-boots were splashed with mud, and on the crimson of his silk jacket there was evidence of a hard race. He touched his cap jerkily with his whip, and shifted the burden of the racing saddle he carried to the other arm. "Why, Atty," said Mainward, with a smile, "what on earth are you doing here?" "It's a short way to the jockey's room, sir," said the little man. "I've just weighed in. I thought the Fairy would do it, sir, and she did." Mainward nodded wisely. "I knew she would, too," he said. "Did she give you a smooth ride?"