ear to him that the mysterious beings whose persons he had so
rashly seized possessed certain peculiar and wonderful powers; and the
only course now open to him seemed to be to make the best terms he could
with them for their co-operation in the furtherance of his schemes. And
he felt heartily glad--pluming himself at the same time upon his
prudence--that he had not taken advantage of their seemingly helpless
condition, when brought to the village, to attempt the putting of a
period to their existence.

Meanwhile, Seketulo, though greatly chagrined at the turn of affairs, by
no means abandoned hope. He felt that though disappointment had for
once overtaken him, it by no means followed that such would always be
the case; and if his ambitious dreams could not be realised in one way,
they still might be in another. The king, unfortunately, had not been
carried off to perdition; but, figuratively speaking, that seemed to be
his ultimate and speedy destination. For, had he not pitted his own
power against that of the mysterious strangers, and lost the game? He
had inflicted a most grievous outrage upon them, and had ineffectually
attempted to seize their wonderful ship; yet not a particle of gain or
advantage of any description had been secured, and the wrath of these
strangers had yet to be faced; the penalty of his audacious deeds had
yet to be paid. Did not all this point to M'Bongwele's speedy downfall?
And if such a state of things should happily be in the near future,
would it not be worth his (Seketulo's) while to approach the strangers
in a friendly spirit and (after cautiously feeling his way) with offers
of assistance? He decided that it undoubtedly would, and that he would
forthwith adopt that line of policy, cautiously, yet without losing a
single favourable opportunity.

So far as M'Bongwele was concerned, he found himself in a greater strait
than ever. He had not only failed completely in his ambitious schemes,
but he had also lost prestige with his own people and had made enemies
of the strangers. His situation was distinctly worse than if he had
done nothing at all; and how to make his way out of the imbroglio he
knew not, nor could any of his ministers advise anything. He now
fervently wished he had adopted other and more friendly measures with
his visitors; but it was too late; he fully recognised that, with the
odium of failure fresh upon him, any attempt at conciliation would be
utterly hopeles