"You silly ass," growled the Commissioner, "they aren't trypnosomes! You haven't cleaned the infernal eyepiece!" "Not trypnosomes?" said Bones. "You seem disappointed, Bones," said Hamilton. "As a man, I'm overjoyed," replied Bones gloomily; "as a scientist, it's a set-back, dear old officer--a distinct set-back." The house-warming lasted a much shorter time than the host had intended. This was largely due to the failure of a very beautiful experiment which he had projected. In order that the rare and wonderful result at which he aimed should be achieved, Bones had the hut artificially darkened, and they sat in a hot and sticky blackness, whilst he knocked over bottles and swore softly at the instruments his groping hand could not discover. And the end of the experiment was a large, bad smell. "The women and children first," said Hamilton, and dived for the door. They took farewell of Bones at a respectful distance. Hamilton went across to the Houssa lines, and Sanders walked back to the Residency with the girl. For a little while they spoke of Bones and his newest craze, and then suddenly the girl asked-- "You didn't really think there were any of those funny things in my blood, did you?" Sanders looked straight ahead. "I thought--you see, we know--the tryp is a distinct little body, and anybody who had lived in this part of the world for a time can pick him out. Bones, of course, knows nothing thoroughly--I should have remembered that." She said nothing until they reached the verandah, and she turned to go to her room. "It wasn't nice, was it?" she said. Sanders shook his head. "It was a taste of hell," he said simply. And she fetched a quick, long sigh and patted his arm before she realized what she was doing. Bones, returning from his hut, met Sanders hurrying across the square. "Bones, I want you to go up to the Isisi," said the Commissioner. "There's an outbreak of some weird disease, probably due to the damming of the little river by Ranabini, and the flooding of the low forests." Bones brightened up. "Sir an' Excellency," he said gratefully, "comin' from you, this tribute to my scientific----" "Don't be an ass, Bones!" said Sanders irritably. "Your job is to make these beggars work. They'll simply sit and die unless you start them on drainage work. Cut a few ditches with a fall to the river; kick Ranabini for me; take up a few kilos of quinine and dose them." Nevertheless, Bones managed to smuggle on board quite a respectable amount of scientific apparatus, and came in good heart to the despondent folk of the Lower Isisi. Three weeks after Bones had taken his departure, Sanders was sitting at dinner in a very thoughtful mood.