ing the smile with which
this was dune. The chief and the thief first glanced at each other,
then at their captor, and then they laughed--absolutely roared--after
which they rubbed noses of their own accord, and "made it up."

We may remark, in passing, that Ongoloo was not sorry for the
reconciliation, because Wapoota had become necessary to him both in
council and during relaxation, and of late he had come to feel
low-spirited for want of his humourist.

But both of them were much concerned to observe that after this
reconciliation, the reconciler relapsed into his pensive mood and
refused to be interested in anything.

They tried in vain to rouse him from his strange apathy--which neither
of them could at all understand. Next day Ongoloo took occasion to give
him the slip, and returned to his village.

Zeppa cared nothing for that. He did not even ask Wapoota what had
become of him.

At this time a new idea occurred to Wapoota, who had been ordered by his
chief to induce Zeppa to visit the native village. It struck him that
as he had been led, so he might lead. Therefore one morning he waited
until Zeppa had finished breakfast, and when he rose, as was his wont,
to go off for the day, Wapoota took him gently by the hand and led him
forth. To his surprise--and comfort, for he had had strong misgivings--
Zeppa submitted. He did not seem to think that the act was peculiar.

Wapoota led him quietly and slowly down the mountain side, and so, by
degrees, right into the native village, where Ongoloo was, of course,
prepared to meet and welcome him.

He was received by the head men of the tribe with deep respect and
conducted to a tent which had been prepared for him, where Wapoota, who
had constituted himself his servant--or lieutenant--made him comfortable
for the night.

Zeppa at first expressed some surprise at all the fuss that was made
regarding him, but soon ceased to trouble himself about the matter, and
gradually relapsed into his old condition. He was content to remain
with the natives, though he did not cease his lonely wanderings among
the hills, absenting himself for days at a time, but always returning,
sooner or later, to the tent that had been provided for him in the
village.

Now, in Sugar-loaf Island, there was a tribe that had, for years past,
been at war with the tribe into whose hands Zeppa had thus fallen, and,
not long after the events just narrated, it chanced that the Ratura
tribe