Once there went up into these bad lands an expedition under a white man. He brought with him carriers, and heavy loads of provisions, and landed from a coast steamer one morning in October. There were four white men, one being in supreme authority; a pleasant man of middle age, tall, broad, and smiling. There was one who made no secret of the fact that he did not intend accompanying the expedition. He also was a tall man, heavier of build, plump of face, and he spent the days of waiting, whilst the caravan was being got ready, in smoking long cigars and cursing the climate. A few days before the expedition marched he took the leader aside. “Now, Sutton,” he said, “this affair has cost me a lot of money, and I don’t want to lose it through any folly of yours--I am a straight-speaking man, so don’t lose your temper. If you locate this mine, you’re to bring back samples, but most of all are you to take the exact bearings of the place. Exactly where the River is, I don’t know. You’ve got the pencil plan that the Portuguese gave us----” The other man interrupted him with a nervous little laugh. “It is not in Portuguese territory, of course,” he said. “For Heaven sake, Sutton,” implored the big man in a tone of exasperation, “get that Portuguese maggot out o’ your brain--I’ve told you twenty times there is no question of Portuguese territory. The River runs through British soil----” “Only, you know, that the Colonial Office----” “I know all about the Colonial Office,” interrupted the man roughly; “it’s forbidden, I know, and it’s a bad place to get to, anyhow--here”--he drew from his pocket a flat round case, and opened it--“use this compass the moment you strike the first range of hills--have you got any other compasses?” “I have got two,” said the other wonderingly. “Let me have ’em.” “But----” “Get ’em, my dear chap,” said the stout man testily; and the leader, with a good-humoured shrug of his shoulders, left him, to return in a few minutes with the two instruments. He took in exchange the one the man held and opened it. It was a beautiful instrument. There was no needle, the whole dial revolving as he turned it about. Something he saw surprised him, for he frowned. “That’s curious,” he said wonderingly; “are you sure this compass is true? The north should lie exactly over that flag-staff on the Commissioner’s house--I tested it yesterday from this very----” “Stuff!” interrupted the other loudly. “Rubbish; this compass has been verified; do you think I want to lead you astray--after the money I’ve sunk----” On the morning before the expedition left, when the carriers were shouldering their loads, there came a brown-faced little man with a big white helmet over the back of his head and a fly-whisk in his hand. “Sanders, Commissioner,” he introduced himself laconically. “I’ve just come down from the interior; sorry I did not arrive before: you are going into the bush?” “Yes.” “Diamonds, I understand?” Sutton nodded.