at they several times almost formed the desperate
resolution of leaving the party and trying to reach the coast by
themselves as they best might, but the utter madness and hopelessness of
such a project soon forced itself on their minds, and insured its being
finally abandoned.

One morning Marizano threw off his usual reserve, and, approaching the
white men, told them that in two hours they would reach the lake where
his employer was encamped.

"And who is your master?" asked Harold.

"A black-faced or yellow-faced blackguard like himself, I doubt not,"
growled Disco.

Antonio put Harold's question without Disco's comment, and Marizano
replied that his master was an Arab trader, and added that he would push
on in advance of the party and inform him of their approach.

Soon afterwards the lake was reached. A large dhow was in readiness,
the gang was embarked and ferried across to a place where several rude
buildings and barracoons, with a few tents, indicated that it was one of
the inland headquarters of the trade in Black Ivory.

The moment our travellers landed Marizano led them to one of the nearest
buildings, and introduced them to his master.

"Yoosoof!" exclaimed Disco in a shout of astonishment.

It would have been a difficult question to have decided which of the
three faces displayed the most extreme surprise. Perhaps Disco's would
have been awarded the palm, but Yoosoof was undoubtedly the first to
regain his self-possession.

"You be surprised," he said, in his _very_ broken English, while his
pale-yellow visage resumed its placid gravity of expression.

"Undoubtedly we are," said Harold.

"Bu'stin'!" exclaimed Disco.

"You would be not so mush surprised,--did you know dat I comes to here
every year, an' dat Engleesh consul ask me for 'quire about you."

"If that be so, how comes it that _you_ were surprised to see us?" asked
Harold.

"'Cause why, I only knows dat some white mans be loss theirselfs--not
knows _what_ mans--not knows it was _you_."

"Well now," cried Disco, unable to restrain himself as he turned to
Harold, "did ever two unfortnits meet wi' sitch luck? Here have we bin'
obliged for days to keep company with the greatest Portugee villian in
the country, an' now we're needcessitated to be under a obligation to
the greatest Arab scoundrel in Afriky."

The scoundrel in question smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Yoosoof," cried Disco, clenching his fist and looking full in