m King Koffee demanded a ransom."

"Yes; it is his latest prisoner," was Dick's answer. "Look here."

He spread out the tattered piece of dirty linen upon the roof of the
cabin and showed it to his friend. It looked as though it might at one
time have formed a portion of a white linen handkerchief, or perhaps it
was a strip torn from a man's shirt. In any case it had been pressed
into the service of the writer of the missive for lack of other and
better material; and the ink with which the letters were scrawled was in
all probability derived from the diluted juice of some berry growing in
the forest. They straggled across the strip, some large and some very
small, all more or less blotched and blurred, while many unmistakably
pointed to the fact that a pointed twig or some such primitive implement
had done service for a pen.

"From Meinheer Van Somering," said Dick, impressively. "Poor beggar!
He is one of the owners of the mine, as I have already told you, and it
was he who was attacked with Mr Pepson on their way down to the coast.
The agent whose place I took was killed at the first volley, while
Meinheer capsized the boat. The last that Mr Pepson saw of him was as
he plunged into the river. We thought him drowned, and he is, or was, a
captive. Listen, and I will read."

He spread the strip out once more, smoothing the many creases, and
having again run his eye over the letters commenced to read.

"`For the love of Gott, help me, mein friends. I have made the escape
from these terrible Ashanti men. I have come to the creek where was the
mine, and, alas! there is no boat. All are gone. With me is one
friend, a native, who make the escape also. He say he can find boat
down the stream and make for the coast. He will try. Brave man! If he
live, then he return with mein friend, and make the rescue. Mein word!
how I wait for him. Christian Van Somering.'"

It was a pathetic missive, scrawled as it was on this dirty strip of
linen, and Dick's eyes filled with tears at the thought of the miserable
condition of Meinheer. His face assumed an expression of determination,
and he swung round upon the native with a question. So sudden and
unexpected was the movement, that the man cringed to the deck again, and
placed his hands over his head as if to ward off a blow.

"Have no fear," said our hero, in the Ashanti tongue. "Tell me all
about this matter; how you came to meet the white man, and how you made