"And you, my superior friend," he said, glancing at Trent, gaunt, ragged, not too clean, and back at Monty--"you want gold--honestly if you can get it, if not--well, it is not too wise to ask.

Your partnership is a little mysterious, isn't it--with a man like that?
Out of your magnificent morality I trust that he may get his share." Trent flushed a brick--red.

An angry answer trembled upon his lips, but Oom Sam, white and with his little fat body quivering with fear, came hurrying up to them in the broad track of the moonlight.
"King he angry," he called out to them breathlessly.

"Him mad drunk angry.

He say white men all go away, or he fire bush and use the poisoned arrow.