want to show us where they buried that unfortunate prowler."

"I am glad of that," whispered Dean. "What horrible wretches these
blacks are!"

"Ugh! Yes," whispered back Mark, with a shudder. "Come along. I shall
begin to hate myself for having been so friendly with them."

The two blacks stood looking at one another in amazement, as they saw
the others moving away. But directly after Mak literally bounded before
them and began waving his hands as if trying to drive back a flock of
sheep.

"No go away!" he shouted. "No go. Gun! Gun! Gun!" And he pointed to
the loose heap of sand and stones that had been piled over the old
burial place.

"What's that?" said the doctor. "Gun?"

"Gun! Gun! Gun!" shouted Mak excitedly, and the little pigmy bounded
on before them to the heap and began signing to them, pointing down the
while.

"Doctor! Uncle!" cried Dean. "I believe they mean that the gun is
buried there."

"Gun! Gun! Gun!" cried Mak, and he bounded after his little companion,
to take his place on the other side of the heap, and began to imitate
his gestures, looking at the boys now, and shouting, "Gun! Gun! Gun!"

"Oh, do be quiet!" cried Mark angrily.

Then in a questioning tone he looked at the blacks, pointed to the heap,
and repeated the word. Both began to dance now with delight, pointing
down and making signs as if scraping a hole in the heap before them.

"Well," said Dean, "if the gun's there don't keep on dancing like a pair
of black marionettes. Dig it out;" and he imitated the blacks' signs of
scraping away the loose rubble.

Mak nodded his head eagerly, and shrank back, a movement imitated by
Pig.

"No, no," said Mark; "don't go. Dig it out."

The black looked at him enquiringly.

"Dig?" he said.

"Yes; both of you dig it out," cried Dean.

To the great surprise of the boys the two blacks dashed at them, caught
them by the wrist, drew them close up to the heap, and tried to bend
them down so that they might draw away the loose rubbish.

"Oh, no, you don't," said Mark merrily, snatching away his wrist. "I am
not going to have my hand used as a trowel to save yours, you lazy
beggar. Here, Dean, get hold of Pig and do as I do. Let's give them an
object lesson."

The little fellow smiled with pleasure as Dean caught him by the wrist,
and then the two boys, to use Mark's expressions, proceeded to use the
black palms and digits as trowels; but the smiles of both blac