"Lord," said S'kobi, "my fine soldiers do not go with you, for I have seen how wise is Sandi who is my father and my mother." Bosambo choked, and as was usual in moments of intense emotion, found refuge in English. "Dam' nigger!" he said wrathfully, "I bring um army, I feed um, I keep um proper--you pinch um! Black t'ief! Pig! You bad feller! I speak you bad for N'poloyani--him fine feller." "Lord," said the uncomprehending king, "I see that you are like Sandi for you speak his tongue. He also said 'Dam' very loudly. I think it is the word white folk say when they are happy." Bosambo met Bones hurrying to the scene of the fighting, and told his tale. "Lord," said he in conclusion, "what was I to do, for you told nothing of the ways of N'poloyani when his army was stolen from him. Tell me now, Tibbetti, what this man would have done." But Bones shook his head severely. "This I cannot tell you, Bosambo," he said, "for if I do you will tell others, and my lord N'poloyani will never forgive me." CHAPTER X THE WATERS OF MADNESS Unexpected things happen in the Territories which Mr. Commissioner Sanders rules. As for example: Bones had gone down to the beach to "take the mail." This usually meant no more than receiving a mail-bag wildly flung from a dancing surf-boat. On this occasion Bones was surprised to discover that the boat had beached and had landed, not only the mail, but a stranger with his baggage. He was a clean-shaven, plump man, in spotless white, and he greeted Bones with a friendly nod. "Morning!" he said. "I've got your mail." Bones extended his hand and took the bag without evidence of any particular enthusiasm. "Sanders about?" asked the stranger. "Mr. Sanders is in residence, sir," said Bones, ponderously polite. The other laughed. "Show the way," he said briskly. Bones looked at the new-comer from the ventilator of his pith helmet to the soles of his pipe-clayed shoes. "Excuse me, dear old sir," he said, "have I the honour of addressin' the Secretary of State for War?" "No," answered the other in surprise. "What made you think that?" "Because," said Bones, with rising wrath, "he's the only fellow that needn't say 'please' to me." The man roared with laughter. "Sorry," he said. "_Please_ show me the way." "Follow me, sir," said Bones. Sanders was not "in residence," being, in fact, inspecting some recent--and native--repairs to the boilers of the _Zaire_. The stranger drew up a chair on the stoep without invitation and seated himself. He looked around. Patricia Hamilton was at the far end of the stoep, reading a book. She had glanced up just long enough to note and wonder at the new arrival. "Deuced pretty girl that," said the stranger, lighting a cigar. "I beg your pardon?" said Bones. "I say that is a deuced pretty girl," said the stranger. "And you're a deuced brute, dear sir," said Bones, "but hitherto I have not commented on the fact."