Once more as master and servant Old Reliable led his obedient Dongalawi to the squatty brick quarters where three bare-legged Arabs held three donkeys in front. Three white men conferred together within, and three sun-helmets rested upon their table, when Zack passed through the dining-room with Said slinking at his heels. Zack would have preferred to close the intervening door, but a lingering fear of Said constrained him to leave it ajar. Said glanced nervously at the shut-in room and the life oozed out of him, even before the Black Effendi showed his hand with a peremptory, "Nigger, you lied me out o' dat money, an' got to give it back. I'm gwine to holler fer Cunnel, an' say somebody is robbed me, an' I wants you searched. Dey knows you couldn't git all dat gole money, 'thout stealin' it, and dey won't never let you out o' jail."
Like a trapped hyena Said sprang to the outer door—it was locked, and the key gone. There he turned at bay and showed his white fangs, while Zack nodded wisely—"Dat's all I wants to know—you got dat money wid you. Give it here."
At the sound of Zack's lifted voice Colonel Spottiswoode called from the next room, "Zack, do you need more help?"
Before Zack could answer, Said thrust a dirty rag into his hand, and Zack maneuvered nearer the dining-room door—nearer the white folks—
