just finished house with his usual kind of “I told you so” indifference.  Then, for a time, he dwelt alone with his family, his account books, and the Evil Spirit that rules the lands under the equator.  He got on very well with his god.  Perhaps he had propitiated him by a promise of more white men to play with, by and by.  At any rate the director of the Great Trading Company, coming up in a steamer that resembled an enormous sardine box with a flat-roofed shed erected on it, found the station in good order, and Makola as usual quietly diligent.  The director had the cross put up over the first agent’s grave, and appointed Kayerts to the post.  Carlier was told off as second in charge.  The director was a man ruthless and efficient, who at times, but very imperceptibly, indulged in grim humour.  He made a speech to Kayerts and Carlier, pointing out to them the promising aspect of their station.  The nearest trading-post was about three hundred miles away.  It was an exceptional opportunity for them to distinguish themselves and to earn percentages on the trade.  This appointment was a favour done to beginners.  Kayerts was moved almost to tears by his director’s kindness.  He would, he said, by doing his best, try to justify the flattering confidence, &c., &c.  Kayerts had been in the Administration of the Telegraphs, and knew how to express himself correctly.  Carlier, an ex-non-commissioned officer of cavalry in an army guaranteed from harm by several European Powers, was less impressed.  If there were commissions to get, so much the better; and, trailing a sulky glance over the river, the forests, the impenetrable bush that seemed to cut off the station from the rest of the world, he muttered between his teeth, “We shall see, very soon.”

Next day, some bales of cotton goods and a few cases of provisions having been thrown on shore, the sardine-box steamer went off, not to return for another six months.  On the deck the director touched his cap to the two agents, who stood on the bank waving their hats, and turning to an old servant of the Company on his passage to headquarters, said, “Look at those two imbeciles.  They must be mad at home to send me such specimens.  I told those fellows to plant a vegetable garden, build new storehouses and fences, and construct a landing-stage.  I bet nothing will be done!  They won’t know how to begin.  I always thought the station on this river useless, and they just fit the station!”

“They will form themselves there,” said the old stager with a quiet smile.

“At any rate, I am rid of them for six months,” retorted the director.