his murderer and the murderer of those
fourteen unhappy white people who died to gratify the ferocious
instincts of a savage despot. Let us be going. Come," he added, laying
his hand upon Lobelalatutu's naked shoulder, "we shall need you while
doing the work that lies before us. After we have finished you can send
out men to do what is necessary here."

And, with a very grim expression of face, he turned and led the way to
the _Flying Fish_.

Ten minutes later the ship came gently to earth in the Great Place
before M'Bongwele's palace. The village appeared at first sight to be
deserted, for not a soul was to be seen in any direction; but the low
wail of an infant, suddenly breaking in upon the silence, and issuing
from one of the huts, betrayed the fact that at least one small atom of
humanity still lingered about the place; and where so small a baby was,
the mother would probably be not far off.

The five white men--each with his rifle in his hand, as a safeguard
against possible accident--stared about them in perplexity.

"What has happened, Lobelalatutu; what has become of your people?"
demanded the professor.

"They are hiding in their huts," answered the chief. "They remember
what happened when the Four Spirits last visited us, and they are
afraid!"

"So!" ejaculated the professor. "Well, call to them, Lobelalatutu, and
bid them come forth; we have somewhat to say to them."

The chief advanced to the gangway, where he could be clearly seen, and
in a loud voice called upon every man to come forth into the open to
listen to what the Four Spirits of the Winds had to say to them. And,
in reply, first one, then another came creeping reluctantly out of the
huts, until at length the Great Place was full of people, all standing
with their eyes fixed upon the figures of the four well-remembered
"spirits," and the fifth who now stood beside them. A low hum of
subdued conversation arose from the densely massed crowd, for a minute
or two, but it presently subsided; and all waited breathlessly for the
communication to which they had been summoned to listen.

Von Schalckenberg permitted the silence to last long enough to become
almost oppressive; then he advanced to the gangway and, waving his hand,
demanded--

"Children of the Makolo, how many of your number are absent?"

For a full minute dead silence followed upon this question; then a man,
whose dress and weapons proclaimed him a chief, strode forward an