Static

Charles Markley carried his radio set to darkest Africa, where the natives took it for a god. A native girl learned different, and just as Markley’s life was in extreme danger something happened that changed the outlook on things.

Water slogged heavily against the hull of the Niger packet Lagarto. Close at hand the jungle, waving ghostly arms in the moonlight, seemed to be giving a horrid imitation of great beasts floundering and slobbering at the edge of the river. On the deck of the Lagarto lounged Captain Angus Todd, who in spite of his name, was ending his far journeying and hard-driving life as the master of a clumsy freight boat. He was tall, and lean, with that Scotch type of leanness which can best be understood by pronouncing the name “Sandy” with the “a” broad. He smoked a foul pipe and occasionally spat into the greasy water below.