To tell the truth, I believed Ukozi’s statement completely, so much so as not to think it worth while bothering about any thought of the responsibility I might be incurring. Otherwise I might have foreseen a reproachful manner, and a sinking in her estimation, if we found nothing. So I poured the contents of my snuff tube into Ukozi’s hands and bade him farewell.
“I declare I feel quite excited over this,” Aïda Sewin said, as we rapidly retraced our steps. “Look. Here is where we left the others—and—there’s the slab of rock.”
“Yes. It won’t be a difficult scramble. Now Miss Sewin, you shall have the opportunity of verifying Ukozi’s dictum yourself. So—you go first.”
In a moment we were below the rock—a matter of ten yards’ descent—and, in a small dry watercourse beneath we descried the glint of something. A cry of delight escaped her.
“Why, here it is. Just exactly as he described. Come and look, Mr Glanton.”
Sure enough at our feet, leaning almost upright between the two stones—the pointed one and the round—was the lost coin.
“But what was it we saw in the crevice?” she said, when the first astonishment was over. “That seemed to shine, too.”
“Probably a point of rock worn smooth. Well, Ukozi has again borne out his reputation.”
“Again? Why? Have you tried him before?”
Her eyes seemed to search my face. There was—or seemed to be—no prevaricating.