g rivers. Worse than all,
rain and wet soon play havoc with a man, and in a fever-stricken
country, such as the land of Ashanti, predispose to an immediate attack.

Having dealt with the movement of the troops, and shown how Sir Garnet
and his men had diligently pushed forward to the Prahsu, and had, by
dint of bush fighting, and particularly by their actions at Dunquah and
Abracampa, driven the Ashantis from the protectorate, we can now return
to Kumasi.

The night was rather dark, but fine. Overhead the stars twinkled, and
could be seen through the leaves of the trees which lined the main
street. One tree grew in front of each house or hut, and was fetish or
sacred. At its roots were placed odd bits of crockery, a rough
doll-shaped image, and other objects, all regarded as fetish and likely
to lull the anger of the mighty fetish which kept the people in its
grip, and which held sway at the execution house and temple to which
Dick had been led.

"If it had been raining it would have been better, perhaps," thought the
escaping prisoner. "But I don't know. All depends on the luck I have.
The plan may work well, and our friend may find himself caught in a net
of my weaving this time. If so, then I shall not mind the light so
much. Now for the chance to enter."

He had crept across the open space between the two huts, and was now
close against the wattle wall behind which James Langdon was sleeping.
As he lay at full length Dick could hear the ruffian's deep breathing,
and when a few minutes had passed could catch his mutterings. He
stirred, and Dick heard the soft bed of palm-leaves, upon which he lay,
rustle at the movement. But our hero made no attempt at escape, nor did
he move from his position. He waited, as calmly as he could, though it
was hard to smother his excitement and still the thumping of his heart.
There was so much to be attempted, and such a terrible ordeal to look
forward to if he failed. Across his mind's eye flashed the memory of
that awful scene close to the brass sacrificial bowl. The rows of
intended victims, forced to look on at the sacrifice, their hunted
looks, and the agony on the face of the one about to be sacrificed.
Then there was the mob, with the warriors dancing their wild dance of
death and brandishing their weapons; while in the background, smug and
complacent, like Nero of old, sat King Koffee, tall and fat, nodding a
signal when the moment for execution came. For hal