er, are yet
her loyal subjects, and very near to the great God Himself, in whose
hand her breath is, and whose are all her ways.

"And now, my sons, my eyes are closing fast, and I leave ye to follow me
along the weary road which leads to the great hereafter. Take, then,
the last blessing of a very aged and a defenceless man, to whom ye were
both kind and good. Fear God, and follow that which is good, so shall
we meet again in the land where sorrows are forgotten, and where peace
and rest await both you and me. Greeting, then, my sons, to you and
yours--greeting and farewell!"

And so he died, this one staunch witness for freedom and his God, in a
land where all else was foul and evil. Very peacefully his life slipped
from him with the dawn of day, and his loyal spirit soared to the very
presence of Him who gave it life.

"God rest him," said Grenville gently; "God rest His faithful servant.
May I too die the death of a brave man, and may my last end be even as
the end of Muzi Zimba the Ancient."

That same day the little band buried the hermit's body, the natives
following him to the grave with many marks of respect and reverence, and
the white men firing a farewell salute over the last resting-place of
this gallant soldier, who had given up his life for the truth, and died
in freedom's cause, in this far-distant land.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

EQUATORIA.

As soon as our friends had paid the final honours to the mortal remains
of Muzi Zimba, they carefully warned the "People of the Stick" against
spreading the news of his decease in any shape or form, fearing that the
ignorant natives in the surrounding country might foolishly impute his
somewhat sudden and unexpected end, to the unauthorised presence of the
little hand in his cavernous dwelling.

Hardly were the funeral obsequies over than Kenyon drew Grenville aside,
and after a few moments of earnest conversation, the pair announced
their intention of investigating the secret stair through the mountain,
of which the old hermit had spoken to them.

Taking Amaxosa along, and supplying themselves from Muzi Zimba's ample
stores with torches made of fibre, the trio entered the indicated cave,
shifted the black, basaltic-looking rock, and duly found themselves in
the entrance of the tunnel. The tortuous way was rough and very narrow,
but it was, as the old man had said, fairly easy to traverse, and in
twenty minutes' time our friends emerged into semi-daylig