hen you may dismiss your suspicions now, for I can assure you that you
are regarded in this land as a very monster of ugliness," said Harold,
laughing.

"In the estimation of niggers your garments are hideous; your legs they
think elephantine, your red beard frightful, and your blue eyes
savage--_savage_! think of that."

"Well, well," retorted Disco, "your own eyes are as blue as mine, an' I
don't suppose the niggers think more of a yaller beard than a red one."

"Too true, Disco; we are both ill-favoured fellows here, whatever we may
be elsewhere; however, as we don't intend to take Manganja wives it
won't matter much. But what think you of our plan, now that Kambira is
ready to fall in with it?"

"It seems a good one. When do we start?"

"To-morrow," said Harold.

"Wery good," replied Disco, "I'm agreeable."

The morrow came, and with the early light all the people turned out to
witness the departure of the hunters. Scouts had been previously sent
out in all directions to make sure that no enemies or slave-traders were
at that time in their immediate neighbourhood, and a strong force of the
best warriors was left to guard the village.

Of Harold's band, two half-castes, Jose and Oliveira, volunteered to
stay in camp with the guard, and two, Songolo and Mabruki, the freemen
of Quillimane, remained in the village to recruit their health, which
had failed. Chimbolo likewise remained, the wounds on his back not
having healed sufficiently to admit of the hard labour of hunting. All
the rest accompanied the hunters, and of these the three Makololo men,
Jumbo, Zombo, and Masiko, were incomparably the best and bravest. Of
course the volatile Antonio also went, being indispensable.

On setting out--each man with his sleeping-mat on his back and his
little wooden pillow hung at his neck,--there was a great deal of
shouting and ho-ho-ing and well-wishing on the part of those who
remained behind, but above all the noise there arose a shrill cry of
intense and agonising despair. This proceeded from the small windpipe
of little Obo, who had not until the last moment made the appalling
discovery that Kambira was going away without him!

There was something very touching in the cry of the urchin, and
something which brought vividly to the minds of the Englishmen the
infantine community of their own land. There was the same sudden gaze
of horror on realising the true position of affairs,--the same sharp
shriek and