"We go to Rabat. We go to Magazam, and we
cut--so--long sweep, into the interior, take a turn, so, and back to
Fez, so!"
This speech, delivered with enthusiasm, made De Gollyer reflect. He
looked at the somewhat revived Lightbody with thoughtful curiosity.
"Well, well--you may be right. You always are impressive, you know."
"Right? Of course I'm right," continued Lightbody, unaware of his
friend's critical contemplation. "Haven't I worked out every foot of
it?"
"A bit of a flyer in the game country, then? Topple over a rhino or so.
Stunning, smart sport, the rhino!"
"By George, think of it--a chance at one of the brutes!"
When De Gollyer had seen the eagerness in his friend's eyes, the imps
returned, ironically tumbling back. He slapped him on the shoulder as
Mephistopheles might gleefully claim his own, crying, "Immense!"
"You know, Jim," said Lightbody, straightening up, nervously alert,
speaking in quick, eager accents, "it's what I've dreamed of--a chance
at one of the big beggars. By George, I have, all my life!"
"We'll polish it off in ripping style, regiments of porters, red and
white tents, camels, caravans and all that sort of thing.
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