e for attack it."

"Who told you that? Are they sure?" asked Harold hastily.

"Two, t'ree mans tole me," replied Antonio. "All say same ting. Too
late to help him now, me's 'fraid."

"Never say too late," cried Disco, starting up; "never say die while
there's a shot in the locker. It may be time enough yet if we only look
sharp. I votes that we leave nearly all the provisions we have with
these poor critters here; up anchor, 'bout ship, clap on all sail, and
away this werry minit."

Harold agreed with this advice heartily, and at once acted on it. The
arrangements were quickly made, the provisions distributed, an
explanation made, and in less than an hour the travellers were retracing
their steps in hot haste.

By taking a straight line and making forced marches, they arrived in
sight of the ridge where they had last seen Kambira, on the evening of
the third day. As they drew near Harold pushed impatiently forward,
and, outrunning his companions, was first to reach the summit. Disco's
heart sank within him, for he observed that his companion stood still,
bowed his head, and covered his face with both hands. He soon joined
him, and a groan burst from the seaman's breast when he saw dense
volumes of smoke rising above the spot where the village had so recently
lain a picture of peaceful beauty.

Even their followers, accustomed though they were, to scenes and deeds
of violence and cruelty, could not witness the grief of the Englishmen
unmoved.

"P'raps," said Disco, in a husky voice, "there's some of 'em left alive,
hidin' in the bushes."

"It may be so," replied Harold, as he descended the slope with rapid
strides. "God help them!"

A few minutes sufficed to bring them to the scene of ruin, but the
devastation caused by the fire was so great that they had difficulty in
recognising the different spots where the huts had stood. Kambira's hut
was, however, easily found, as it stood on a rising ground. There the
fight with the slavers had evidently been fiercest, for around it lay
the charred and mutilated remains of many human bodies. Some of these
were so far distinguishable that it could be told whether they belonged
to man, woman, or child.

"Look here!" said Disco, in a deep, stern voice, as he pointed to an
object on the ground not far from the hut.

It was the form of a woman who had been savagely mangled by her
murderers. The upturned and distorted face proved it to be Yohama, the
grandmo