drum. Said knew where naked black figures crouched around the drum, beneath the great mimosa tree! His own savage blood responded to the throb, throb, throb of that savage heart of Africa beating afar off in the night. Thereupon Said arose, as the languid leopard rises, his striped robe swished against his legs. For a while he stood motionless, with dilated nostrils, then sank cautiously to the ground again. The back door had opened, not the door which Said was watching, out of which his master usually shouted, "Whar he?" but another door, a dark door. It opened warily without a sound; the room showed black behind it, without a glimmer. Out of this blackness stole the Black Effendi, with the soft foot of a cat, closed the door noiselessly behind him, then stopped to listen in the gloom beneath the eaves. The subtle instinct of Said felt much more than he really saw; he scented concealment, intrigue, something wrong. That's why Said vanished within the tukul, and peered out with glittering eyes. From the silence of the eaves he heard a thrilling sound, the jingle of metal; for Zack had stumbled as he stepped into the star light. Old Reliable traveled in his shirt sleeves; bareheaded, and carried a package under his arm. It was this package which riveted the very soul of Said, a square box nearly the size of a shirt-box and quite heavy. So the Dongalawi stif-
