-and he acted some of his blows heavier than I could have wished,
in his anxiety to impress his information on me!" said the guide.

"What is his name?" asked Mark.

"Fisatra. He is named after a great chief who lived in this district
not long ago.--But here he comes to speak for himself."

At that moment a tall, fine-looking man, of very dark complexion, and
clad in the ample folds of a beautiful lamba, approached them. His
whole countenance was wrinkled with the lines of fun, and his brilliant
teeth glistened as he smilingly held out his hand to the Englishmen, and
asked them to accept his hospitality.

As they passed into the house they saw two slave-girls pounding rice in
a large wooden mortar, with two enormous wooden pestles, while the
savoury steam that arose from some invisible kitchen served to put a
finer edge on their already sharpened appetites.

When the mats were spread, and the feast was being enjoyed, Ravonino
asked the host how he had got rid of the spies, and how he managed to
explain his conduct without raising their suspicions.

"Nothing easier," said Fisatra, while his broad shoulders heaved with an
inward chuckle. "You know that I used to be feared in the palace in
days gone bye because of my violent nature, and the way in which I used
to knock about the furniture and make the household slaves--sometimes
the household troops--scurry when I was in a rage. Yet I'm sure you
know very well, (he looked sheepishly innocent here), that I never was
an angry man--at least not a cruel one. But that's all changed. I am
one of _your_ set now, though no one suspects it. Since I met Mr
Ellis--"

"Is Mr Ellis here just now?" interrupted Ravonino, anxiously.

"Not now," answered Fisatra; "he departed some weeks ago, but I believe
has not yet left the coast. And now there is no check on the Queen's
violence. Well, as I was about to say, I took to the old habit in
pretence, as you have seen, and when I returned from thrashing you I
went storming through the house, kicking about the pots and pans, and
foaming at the mouth in such a way that I not only stopped the spies
laughing, but put them in fear of their lives."

Again the fun-wrinkles corrugated the visage of Fisatra, and his mighty
shoulders heaved with internal explosions.

"After I had calmed down a bit," he continued, "the spies ventured to
ask timidly if that was a great enemy that I had beaten. This set me
into, a worse passion than ev