om using our weapons. Aboh, Shimbo,
and the other blacks, seeing that we were overcome, were about to take
to flight, but they were immediately surrounded by a large body of
enemies, our whole party thus being made prisoners. We were at once
hurried unceremoniously along until we reached a large village not far
from the bank of the river which we could see flowing tantalisingly by
us. We had no time to exchange remarks with each other, or to speculate
as to what was to be our fate. At first we fancied that the ugly black
was the king of the place, but this we soon discovered was not the case,
for, as we were dragged up the main street, we saw issuing from a house
of more pretentions than its neighbours another black wearing a red
regimental coat on his back with huge epaulets, and a round hat,
battered and otherwise the worse for wear, on his head, the insignia of
royalty, as we well knew.

Our captor made a speech and described to the king how he had taken us
prisoners.

"Him tell big lie," whispered Aboh, who stood near me. "Him say great
fight, we run 'way, him kill us."

"What's the fellow's name?" I asked, meaning that of our first captor.

"Him callee Mundungo."

"And the King?"

"Him King Kickubaroo."

His majesty seemed perfectly satisfied with his general's statement. It
tickled his vanity that his forces should have conquered four white men
and an army of blacks, as was the description given of our attendants.
In vain Harry tried to explain who we were, and how the affair had
happened. The general, on hearing him speak, began vociferating so
loudly as to drown his voice. All the efforts we made were fruitless.
The louder Harry spoke, the louder Mundungo and his followers shouted.
At last the king issued an order, and we were once more surrounded by
guards and marched away to a house on the other side of the square, into
which we were unceremoniously thrust.

"I wonder what these fellows are going to do with us," said Tom. "I
say, old fellow," he exclaimed, "give me back that rifle," and he made a
spring at one of the men who had possession of his weapon, and snatched
it out of his hands. "Tell them that they are fetishes, Mr Harry,"
cried Tom, "they'll not dare to keep them."

Harry shouted out as advised, and we made a simultaneous dash at the men
who had possession of our guns. So unexpected was our onslaught, that
we were enabled to wrench them from their hands. Before they could
re