in search of me," continued Orlando,
paying no attention to the interruption; "and in the meantime, you know
how to explain my purpose to the natives. Adieu."

Rising quickly, he left the assembly and, followed modestly but closely
by the unconquerable negro, set off with rapid strides towards the
mountains.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

When Zeppa, as related in a previous chapter, staggered up the mountain
side with Richard Rosco in his arms, his great strength was all but
exhausted, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he succeeded at
last, before night-fall, in laying his burden on the couch in his cave.

Then, for the first time, he seemed to have difficulty in deciding what
to do. Now, at last, the pirate was in his power--he could do to him
what he pleased! As he thought thus he turned a look of fierce
indignation upon him. But, even as he gazed, the look faded, and was
replaced by one of pity, for he could not help seeing that the wretched
man was suffering intolerable anguish, though no murmur escaped from his
tightly-compressed lips.

"Slay me, in God's name, kill me at once, Zeppa," he gasped, "and put me
out of torment."

"Poor man! poor Rosco!" returned the madman in a gentle voice, "I
thought to have punished thee, but God wills it otherwise."

He said no more, but rose hastily and went into the bush. Returning in
a few moments with a bundle of herbs, he gathered some sticks and
kindled a fire. A large earthenware pot stood close to the side of the
cave's entrance--a clumsy thing, made by himself of some sort of clay.
This he filled with water, put the herbs in, and set it on the fire.
Soon he had a poultice spread on a broad leaf which, when it was cold,
he applied to one of the pirate's dreadfully burnt feet. Then he spread
another poultice, with which he treated the other foot.

What the remedy was that Zeppa made use of on this occasion is best
known to himself; we can throw no light on the subject. Neither can we
say whether the application was or was not in accordance with the
practice of the faculty, but certain it is that Rosco's sufferings were
immediately assuaged, and he soon fell into a tranquil sleep.

Not so the madman, who sat watching by his couch. Poor Zeppa's physical
sufferings and exertion had proved too much for him; the strain on his
shattered nerves had been too severe, and a burning fever was now raging
within him, so that the delirium consequent on disease began to