We had already been suffering from thirst, but now that we sat upon those bare branches, with not a bit of shade to screen us from the fierce rays of a noon-day's sun—and a hot tropical sun at that—we began to feel the pangs of thirst in right earnest, and in a way I had never felt them before. Indeed, it was a most painful sensation, and I thought if it was to increase, or even continue much longer, it would kill me. My companion suffered also, though not so badly as I. He was more used to such extremities, and could better bear them.

Perhaps had we been actually engaged in some work we should not have felt this misery so keenly; but we had nothing to do but balance our bodies upon the branches and calmly reflect. So much the worse. We were able to comprehend our situation, and fully understand its perilous nature.

The prospect was far from cheering. Out of the tree we dared not go, else we should be eaten up by the lion. If we remained in the tree, we should become the victims either of thirst or hunger, or both.

How were we to be relieved from this terrible alternative? Would the lion grow wearied with watching us, and wander away? There was not the least likelihood he would do so. All his movements indicated an opposite intention; and for our consolation, I now remembered having read of the implacable nature of this fierce brute when wounded or provoked—so far different from the generous disposition usually ascribed to him, and which certainly he often displays when not molested, or perhaps when not hungry.

Whether our lion was hungry or not, we had no means of judging; but we knew he had been molested, and roughly handled too; his revengeful feelings had been roused to their highest pitch; and, therefore, whatever of vengeance was in his nature would now be exhibited. Beyond a doubt his ire was not going to cool down in a hurry. We might wait a long while before he would feel inclined to forgiveness. We had no hope from his mercy. Perhaps the night might produce a change. On this alone we rested our hopes.

We never speculated on being rescued by any of our companions from the Pandora. Though Brace had friends among them, they were not the sort of friends to trouble themselves much about what became of him. They might make a show of search, but there were twenty ways they could go, without hitting on the right one; and to find any one among these limitless forests would be a mere act of chance. We had not much hope of being rescued by them.

What little hope we had from this source rested upon a singular belief. My companion suggested that the Pandora's people, on finding we did not return at night, might fancy we had deserted. In that case it was probable enough we might be searched for, and with sufficient zeal to ensure our being found!

This was a singular conjecture, and both of us wished it might prove a correct one. Under this contingency there was a better prospect of our being relieved.

By this time our thirst had become oppressive. Our throats were parched as though we had swallowed red-pepper, and our tongues could not produce the slightest moisture. Even the natural saliva had ceased to flow.

While suffering thus, an idea occurred to my companion: I saw him with his knife make an incision in the bark of one of the branches. The point that had first led us to approach the great tree was now decided. Red sap flowed from the wound:—it was the "dragons'-blood!"

In hopes of getting relief from this source, we both moistened our lips with the crimson-juice, and swallowed it as fast as it oozed out. Had we been better acquainted with the medical botany we should have let this liquor alone, for the dragons'-blood is one of the most noted of astringents. Alas! we soon discovered its qualities by experiment. In five minutes after, our tongues felt as if vitriol had been poured upon them, and our thirst increased to a degree of violence and fierceness that could no longer be borne. Deeply did we now repent what we had done; deeply did we rue the tasting of that blood-like sap. We might have endured for days, had we not swallowed those crimson drops; but already were we suffering as if days had passed since we had tasted water!

Our thirst had suddenly increased, and still kept increasing, until the agony we endured was positively excruciating. I cannot describe it. Some idea may be had of its terrible nature when I assert that we actually talked of descending from the tree, and risking our lives in a knife-conflict with the lion, rather than endure it longer!



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

Yes; we actually talked of descending from the tree, and risking our lives in a knife-conflict with the lion!

It is true it was a forlorn hope; but it is probable we should have attempted it in preference to enduring the terrible agony much longer. Fortunately we were not driven to this desperate alternative. At this crisis a happy idea came into the mind of my companion, and drove the thought of the knife-combat out of our heads.

It will be remembered that we had with us a musket. The great "Queen Anne" must not be forgotten; though, for the time, it would seem as though we had forgotten it. That is not exactly the case. We remembered it well enough, for it was under our eyes, lying at the bottom of the tree—where Brace had thrown it in his eagerness to get out of the way of the lion; but it was out of our reach, and, moreover, being empty, we had never thought of its being of service to us. Even could we have regained possession of, and reloaded it, we knew that the snipe-shot would not kill the lion; and, therefore, we might load and fire till we had exhausted all our ammunition, without any other result than to render the brute more furious—if that could possibly be. For these reasons we had paid no attention to the "Queen Anne," and there it lay right under us, apparently as useless as a bar of iron.

While plotting about the means of defence and attack we might make use of in our intended final struggle, the "Queen Anne" once more came into our heads; and Brace hit upon a plan by which the great piece might serve us. In fact, there was a probability we might extricate ourselves by its aid, without the desperate conflict we had projected! and we only wondered the idea had not occurred to us before.

This plan was to get hold of the gun and reload her, then provoke the lion in some way, so that he would renew his attempts to ascend the tree, and, when thus near, place the muzzle of the musket close to his head and fire the contents right into him. Even snipe-shot might do the work, if delivered at such close quarters.

The first difficulty would be to get possession of the gun. She was lying under the tree, upon the same side where we had climbed up, and not three feet from the great trunk; but, though so near, it was evident that one or other of us must descend to the ground, before we could lay a finger upon her. Of course it would be impossible to do this without the risk—nay, the positive certainty—of being assailed by the lion. He lay only a dozen paces farther out, and, as already stated, continually kept his eyes upon us. A single bound would be enough, and there would be no chance of escaping him. How was the gun to be got at?

I have said that it was evident one or other of us would have to descend; and, as this would be going directly to destruction, the idea of doing so was not entertained for a moment.

Ben had fancied that he might "sling," me down after the manner of monkeys, and that by this means we might get hold of the gun; but after examining the branches and calculating the distance, we saw that the height was too great, and the thing would be impossible.

Just then another idea came to our aid—an idea of Ben's conception—and that was to make a running noose on the end of a piece of cord, endeavour to get it round the gun, and then draw her up in the loop. This would be a safe plan, if we could only accomplish it.

We had the cord—a sailor is rarely found wanting one. It was the same piece upon which the vulture had dangled; for Ben had unloosed it before pitching away his bird. It was both long enough and strong enough for the purpose, and could not have suited better if it had been chosen at a rope-factory. Ben knew how to make a loop, and a loop was soon made to his liking; and then the cord was let down slowly and gently, so as not to close the noose before it reached the ground. Guided by the adroit hand of the sailor, the loop at length rested upon the earth, just before the muzzle of the musket; and was then drawn slowly and smoothly along the grass. Fortunately, the barrel did not lie close to the surface, and the cord passed easily underneath it; but Ben was not satisfied until he had worked his loop nearly to the middle of both barrel and stock, and quite over one of the swivels. He then tightened the noose by a jerk—such only as a sailor could give—and the taut cord showed it was fast and secured. In another half-minute my companion held "Queen Anne" in his grasp!

It was but the work of a few minutes to load her, but this was done with caution, as we feared to drop either the ammunition or the ramrod. Of course, had we lost either of these, the piece would have become useless. During all these proceedings, our antagonist had not remained silent. As he saw the musket ascending so mysteriously into the tree, he seemed to fancy that some conspiracy was meditated against him, and he had risen to his all-fours, and set up a loud growling.

Ben had now finished loading, and only waited for the lion to approach the tree; but the brute showed no signs of coming nearer. He continued to growl and lash his tail angrily, but kept his ground.

Perhaps a shot from the pistol might tempt him nearer; and my companion directed me to fire. I did so, aiming at the lion. Like enough the shot only tickled him; but it partially produced the desired effect; for, on receiving it, he made one bound forward and then stopped again— still continuing to roar, and strike his sides with his long, tufted tail.

He was now within less than ten paces of the muzzle of the piece, and he was not going nearer at that time. This was evident; for, after remaining awhile upon all-fours, he squatted down upon his hips just like a cat. His broad breast was right towards us, and presented a most lurking mark to aim at.

Ben was sorely tempted to level and pull trigger; but, still fearing that even at that close distance the snipe-shot would scatter and do no hurt, he held back.

He had directed me to reload the pistol and fire again, and I was busy in doing so, when, all at once, my companion whispered me to desist. I looked at him to see what he wanted. I saw that some new purpose was in his mind. I saw him cautiously draw the huge iron ramrod from the thimbles, and then twisting a piece of oakum round its head, insert it into the barrel, where the oakum held it fast. I next saw him lower the barrel, and lay the butt to his shoulder. I saw him take aim, and soon after came the loud bang and the cloud of smoke, which filled the whole top of the tree, hiding both the earth and the sky from my sight.

Though I could not for some time tell the effect of the shot—neither could Ben—on account of the thick smoke, our ears were gratified by the sounds that reached us from below. The voice of the lion seemed all at once to have changed its triumphant roaring to a tone that expressed agony and fear, and we were convinced that he was badly hurt. We could hear the whining, and snorting, and screaming, like that made by a cat in the agonies of death, but far hoarser and louder.

All this lasted only a few seconds—while the sulphurous vapour clung around the tree—and just as this was wafted aside, and we could see the ground below, the noises ceased, and to our great joy we beheld the enormous brute stretched upon his side motionless and dead!

We waited awhile, to be sure of this fact before descending from our safe perch; but as we watched the brute and saw that he stirred not, we at length felt assured, and leaped down to the earth.

True enough, he was quite dead. The iron ramrod had done the business, and was still sticking half-buried in his breast—its point having penetrated to the heart.

A royal lion was game enough in one day. So thought Ben; and, as we had no desire to procure a second one in the same way, we agreed that this should be the termination of our hunt.

Ben, however, was not going to return without taking back some trophies of his hunter-skill; and, therefore, after we had obtained water to assuage our thirst, we returned to the spot, and under the shade of the great dragon-tree stripped the lion of his skin.

With this trophy borne upon Ben's shoulders, while I carried the "Queen Anne," we wended our way toward the Pandora.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

It was the intention of Ben and myself to return direct to the barque. We were quite satisfied with our day's hunting, and wanted no more game.

We set out therefore in a direction, that as we thought would bring us back to the river.

We had not gone far, however, when we began to fancy that we were going in the wrong course, and then we turned aside from it and took another.

This new one we followed for more than a mile, but, as no river appeared, we believed we were now certainly going the wrong way, and once more turned back.

After walking another mile or two, without coming to the river, we began to think we were lost. At all events we had certainly lost our way, and had not the slightest idea on what side of us lay the river, or the barque, or the barracoon of King Dingo Bingo.

After resting a bit—for we had got quite tired, fagging backward and forward through the woods—we took a fresh start, and this time walked on for three miles or more in a straight course. It was all guess-work, however, and a bad guess it turned out to be; for, instead of getting into the low bottom lands that lay along the banks of the river, we found ourselves coming out into a hilly country, which was open and thinly timbered. We saw plenty of game on all sides—antelopes of several kinds—but we were now so anxious about our way, that we never thought of stopping to have a shot at them. At that moment we would rather have seen the royal-mast of the Pandora than the largest herd of antelopes in the world.

One of the hills in advance of us appeared to be higher than the rest; and as it also appeared the nearest, Ben proposed we should continue on to its top. By so doing we should gain a view of the surrounding country, and would be likely to see the river, and perhaps the barque herself.

Of course I made no objection—as I was entirely guided by my companion's advice—and we at once set out for the hill.

It appeared to be only a mile or two distant; but, to our great surprise, when we had walked a full mile it seemed no nearer than ever!

But this was not the worst of it, for when we had walked another mile, we still appeared no nearer to the hill than when we had first started for it; and then a third mile was passed over, and the distance that intervened between us and the eminence was, to all appearance, but slightly diminished!

Had it been left to me, I should have given up all hope of reaching that hill, and would have gone back as we had come; but my companion was a man of wonderful perseverance in anything he undertook, and now that he had started for the hill, he was determined that no halt should be made until we had got to the very summit of it—even though it should take us till sunset to accomplish the journey. So on we trudged, keeping the top of the hill in view, and facing straight for it all the while.

It was a far longer journey than we had anticipated. It could not have been less than ten good English miles from the place where we had first observed it, to the highest part, though when starting for it, it looked only one! But such is the pureness of the atmosphere in some parts of the tropics, where there is no cloud in the sky and no mist over the earth, that any one accustomed to an English view is easily deceived.

It was within an hour of sunset when Ben and I reached the summit of the hill, after a tramp of ten miles at least; but we were rewarded for our trouble by the splendid view we obtained, and particularly by the sight of the river, which ran along one side, and which stretched away from our position, like a belt of shining silver, till it met the white sea in the distance. We could just make out the Pandora riding upon her anchor, and we thought we could distinguish the cabins and barracoons of King Dingo Bingo, peeping out from among the green trees. The barque looked no larger than a little boat, and although she appeared very near the river's mouth, that was also an ocular deception, for we knew that she was more than a mile up stream.

Of course the sight gave us joy—for we had really believed ourselves lost, and had been feeling very uneasy all the afternoon. Now, however, that we saw the bearings and course in which the river ran, we could easily make our way to it, and, by following its banks, would in time reach the place of our destination.

One thing, however, was unpleasant enough. We should not be able to get back to the Pandora that night. We might get as far as the bank of the river before the sun would be quite gone down; but we saw that the country on both sides of the stream was covered with thick woods; and unless a path could be found it would be slow travelling through the timber, and after twilight it would be impossible to proceed. It appeared plain enough that we could not reach the Pandora that night, and we should have to spend the night in the woods.

Since this was to be, Ben thought we might as well stay upon the hill, as go anywhere else. We might have gone down to the bank of the river— for it ran close to one side of the hill, perhaps not quite a mile from the bottom of the slope—and we at first thought of doing so; but upon reflection it seemed better for us to stay where we were. We should be in less danger from wild beasts by remaining upon the hill—upon which there was not much timber—than by going down into the thick woods. The banks of the river we knew to be the place where wild beasts most abounded, and the danger of being attacked by them would be much greater there. As to water, we could not be better off, for we had found a beautiful spring near the summit, and had already quenched our thirst at it. We did not need to go to the river, so far as that was concerned.

The only thing of which we really stood in need, was something to eat. We had not a morsel of either biscuit or meat, and we had both become as hungry as hawks. There was not the slightest prospect of a supper, and we should have to go with empty stomachs until we could reach the barque—perhaps not before noon of the following day.

We had grown so hungry that my companion now wished he had brought along with him a piece of the lion's flesh, declaring he could have eaten a collop of it well enough. We had still with us the skin, but that was too tough for us, hungry as we were.

We sat down near the spring, and began to consider what preparations we should make for passing the night. We thought it would be best to gather a quantity of sticks and make a roaring fire—not that we were afraid of the cold, for there was no such thing as cold. On the contrary, although it was near sundown, the air was still quite hot and sultry. Our object in talking about a fire was, in order to frighten off any wild beasts that might approach our sleeping-place during the night.

While we talked we grew hungrier, and at length our stomachs became so craving that we could almost have eaten the grass! Fortune, however, proved kind to us, and saved us from becoming grass-eaters. Just as we were wondering what we could find to eat, we chanced to see a large bird stepping out of some trees into the open ground. It did not see us, for it was every moment coming nearer. It appeared to be browsing upon the grass, as it moved along; and thus busy seeking its own food, took no notice of anything else.

Ben had reloaded the "Queen Anne," after killing the lion. The ramrod had been crooked badly, but we had managed to get it straight again, so that it would serve; and in order to be prepared for anything, a fresh load had been rammed into the barrel.

Seeing the great bird coming so near, we quietly lay down, so as to hide our bodies in the grass—while Ben placed himself behind a small bush, through which he protruded the long barrel of the musket.

It seemed as if Providence had sent the bird for our supper; for the foolish creature walked straight on, until it was hardly a dozen yards from the muzzle of the "Queen Anne." Just then Ben pulled the trigger; and, notwithstanding the smallness of the shot, the great bustard—for it proved to be a bustard—was rolled over on the grass, as dead as a nail in a door. So said Ben as he picked it up, and brought it into our camp.

We now set to work upon the bird; and, after plucking, and cleaning it, we kindled a fire, and placed it in the blaze to roast. We might not have cooked it in the most elegant manner, and perhaps it was a little smoked; but if so, we did not notice this while eating it, for we both ate heartily, and thought it the most delicious morsel we had ever tasted. Certainly after the salt meat, to which we had been so long accustomed, a fresh bustard—which is one of the richest flavoured of game birds—could not be otherwise than a delicacy; and so much did we relish it, that before going to sleep we made a fresh onset upon the bird, and very nearly finished it, large as it was.

We washed the supper down with a drink of cool water from the crystal spring; and then we began to consider where we should stretch our bodies for the night.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

At first we were inclined to remain where we had cooked and eaten our supper. The water was convenient, and there was long bunch grass upon which we could rest very comfortably.

But although it was then warm enough, and we might have gone to sleep without feeling any cold, we knew it would be different towards the middle of the night. We knew this from the experience we had already had of this part of the country—for notwithstanding the great heat of the sun during the day, at night there were heavy dews, and the air was often foggy and chill. Some nights on board the barque we had found it cold enough for all the blankets we could get. Perhaps it was not absolutely so cold as we fancied it, for at this time I knew nothing about the thermometer. It is like enough that we felt the cold of the night more keenly, on account of its contrast with the great heat of the day; and as we were usually at hard work, and perspiring all day long, of course our blood was not prepared for the change.

That day had been a particularly hot one, and in walking over the palm-nuts, and toiling through thickets and other difficult places, we had been in a profuse perspiration all day long. As we had no blankets to cover us—nothing but our very lightest clothing—we would be likely to suffer during the night with the damp dew falling upon our bodies. True, we had the lion's hide with us, but this, being fresh and still raw, would not greatly benefit us.

Under these circumstances it occurred to us that we might as well take shelter under some tree, which, if it failed to warm, would at least protect us from the falling dew.

We had already noticed a grove at some distance along the slope of the hill. It appeared to promise the very shelter we wanted, and taking up the gun, the lion-skin, what remained of the bustard, and some burning faggots to make a new fire out of, we proceeded in the direction of the grove.

This grove appeared of that kind usually termed a coppice or copse—such as may be often observed in English parks. It was of a circular form, and covered about half an acre of ground. None of the timber was tall— not over thirty or forty feet in height, but as we drew nearer we could perceive that it was all of one sort. This we could tell by the leaves, which were very large and of a shining green colour. They were oblong, and each leaf was divided into five leaflets, that were placed in relation to each other like the fingers of a hand. Even the leaflets were like large entire leaves, and out of each bunch of leaves we could see that there grew a large white flower hanging upon a long pendulous flower-stalk with its top downward. These flowers gave the grove a very beautiful appearance—their splendid white corollas contrasting elegantly with the deep-green of the leaves.

All these matters we noted as we drew nigh, for although the sun had gone down, there was still light enough to view objects at a considerable distance.

We noticed nothing else about this little copse that appeared peculiar, until we had advanced close to its edge. We only observed that it was nicely rounded, just as if it belonged to some fine park and had been kept neatly trimmed by the pruning knife of the park-keeper, or some landscape gardener. Of course this was a peculiarity—considering that the grove grew in a wild uninhabited country, where no human hand ever interfered with it, as we supposed. But I had heard that such regularly formed copses are often met with in wild regions, both on the table plains of Southern Africa and the prairies of America, therefore there was nothing remarkable that they should be found in Central Africa as well.

On this account we had scarce made any remark about the singularity of its shape, but approached it with no other intention than to obtain shelter under it. Its dense foliage, promising protection from dew, or even rain, if it should fall, appeared to invite us; and we were resolved to accept its proffered hospitality.

It was only when we got very close to it, that we perceived the true nature of this singular grove—and then we noticed a peculiarity that astonished us. Instead of a grove covering nearly an acre of ground, as we had conjectured, you may fancy our surprise on perceiving that the hole copse consisted of but one tree!

Sure enough there was only one tree, and it was the vast umbrageous head of leaves and flowers that we had mistaken for a whole grove!

But such a tree was that! If we had been astonished by the dragon-tree, our astonishment was now more than doubled, on beholding the gigantic monarch of trees, that now spread widely before our eyes. The dragon-tree sank into a shrub in comparison with it.

If I were to give the dimensions of this enormous vegetable, I should scarce be credited, but fortunately its giant proportions do not rest on my authority alone. Trees of a similar kind, and of the very same species, have been described by botanists, and therefore their vast size is well-known to the scientific world.

The one discovered by Brace and myself had a trunk of full a hundred feet girth. I cannot speak exactly, as I had no measuring string, and it would have taken a pretty long cord to have gone round it: but Ben measured it carefully with his arms, and pronounced it to be "twenty-five fadoms." Now Ben's "fadoms" were good fathoms, for he was a long armed man; and, therefore I conclude that the trunk was at least a hundred feet in circumference. At the height of about a dozen feet from the ground the trunk forked into a number of great branches, each of which was like a tree of itself; and, in fact, some of them were far thicker than most trees of the forest. These branches stretched out for many yards—at first horizontally, but as they tapered towards a point, they began gradually to curve downwards, until their extreme ends—the topmost twigs with their leaves—quite touched the earth. It was for this reason we had not been able to see the main trunk as we approached. The foliage of the outer boughs concealed it from the view, and hence had we mistaken the single tree for a grove or coppice. It the more resembled this on account of its height; for, as already observed, its topmost branches did not exceed thirty or forty feet in clear altitude. It was therefore not the tallest tree in the world, though it was certainly one of the thickest.

Now it so chanced that I knew what kind of tree it was—even to its name; my "wonder book" had not omitted to describe the vegetable curiosity. It was the great baobab.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

I knew that the tree had other names as well as baobab; that the negroes of Senegal call it the "monkey's bread-tree," the "sour gourd," and "lalo plant," and my book had been minute enough to give the botanical name, which is Adansonia—so called from a distinguished French botanist, of the name of Adanson, who, long ago, travelled through western Africa, and was the first to describe this wonderful tree. I even remembered Adanson's description of it, and his statement, that he believed there were some baobab trees five thousand years old, or coeval with the creation of the world. He had himself measured some of them seventy-five feet in girth, and had heard of others that exceeded one hundred! This I could now believe. I remembered, moreover, that he had stated, that the fruit of the tree was a large oblong body, full nine inches long, of a dull greenish colour, and covered over the surface with a hoary down; that it was like a gourd, and when opened exhibited several cells, with hard shining seeds, immersed in a soft pulp; that out of this pulp, the natives, where the tree grew, manufactured an aciduous drink that was good for curing fevers; that the leaves when dried and bruised, were, by the same people, mixed with their food, to counteract too profuse perspiration; that moreover, the larger leaves are used for covering their huts, and out of the bark they manufactured a sort of cordage, and also a coarse kind of cloth, which the poorer people wore around their thighs, forming a covering that reached from the waist to the knees. Vessels, also, were procured from the outside shell of the fruit, which served in the same manner as those obtained from the gourd or calabash-tree.

All these things did I remember at that moment, and intended to communicate them to my companion as soon as we had got fixed for the night; but as yet we had only arrived on the ground, and had learnt nothing more about the gigantic vegetable, than that it was all one single tree, for we could still make out the main trunk through the glimmer of the twilight. Of course the measurement made by Brace was an after performance, and was not done till long after we had arrived on the ground.

Well, we had arrived by this wonderful tree; and stooping down, and entering under its branches, we saw at a glance it was the very place for us to pass the night in. A house could hardly have served us better; and as for room there was enough to have accommodated the crew of a three-decker. It hardly mattered where we lay down—as under its wide-spread canopy there was ample choice, and nowhere was the dew likely to disturb our slumbers.

We were determined, however, to light a fire, for we were still in dread of the wild beasts. No wonder after such a day's adventures.

Though it was almost dark under the shadow of the tree, it was still twilight beyond, and there was yet light enough for us to collect fuel for our fire. So throwing down our lion-skin, and other impediments, we proceeded to gather the logs. At a short distance off, we found a quantity of dead timber, that would serve admirably for fuel, and three or four double armfuls would be sufficient.

We were not slow in bringing them up; and, choosing a place under one of the great horizontal limbs, we built our camp fire. The limb was so thick and broad underneath, that it formed a roof of itself ample enough to shelter us from any rain that might fall, and the ground underneath was as dry as tinder, so that we had every prospect of getting a comfortable night's rest.

We built our fire at some distance from the main trunk; and as soon as it was fairly kindled, we gave over work, and sat down beside it.

Ben had his clay pipe in his pocket; and, filling this with the narcotic weed, he set to smoking with great contentment. I was myself very happy. After my experience on board the barque, this free forest life was positively charming, and I thought I should like to continue it for ever. Though I did not join my companion in a smoke, I sat down opposite to him, and we both indulged in the pleasure of unrestrained conversation.

I have said that, when we first entered under the shadow of the baobab, it was quite dark there—just as dark as night itself—and we could not see six feet beyond our noses in any direction but soon the fire blazing up, enabled us to note our new quarters more particularly. We could see above our heads the long egg-shaped fruit hanging down from among the large leaves, while strewed over the ground were many that had fallen from over-ripeness, and the shells of others that had opened, and shed their seeds, and were now dry and empty.

All these things were noticed in a few seconds of time—just while the faggots were beginning to blaze; but our attention was called away from such observations, and concentrated upon a single object, which at once created within us an eager curiosity.

This object was an odd appearance that presented itself on the trunk of the tree. Directly beyond the fire, but—as already stated—at some distance from it, rose the main trunk, like a vast wall. The bark was of a brownish grey colour, wrinkled and gnarled, and with many knots and inequalities over its surface. But in spite of this unevenness, as soon as the flames brightened up, we noticed four regular lines, or cracks, upon the trunk, meeting each other at right angles. These lines formed a parallelogram about three feet in length by two in breadth. The bottom line was about two feet above the surface of the ground; and the parallelogram itself was outlined lengthwise against the tree.

As soon as we set eyes upon it, we saw that such a regularly formed figure could not have arisen from any natural cause—the bark could not have split itself into so perfect a shape. It was clear that the thing was artificial—that is, that it had been done by the hand of man. In fact, as we observed it more minutely, we could tell that this had been so; for the marks of a knife or some other cutting instrument were discernible in the wood—though the work had been done long ago, and the colour gave no indication of when it had been done. The lines were of the same dull grey as the natural cracks on other parts of the tree.

Our curiosity being excited, my companion and I rose from the fire, and approached the great trunk to examine it. Had it been in an inhabited country we should have thought nothing of it—for then we should have fancied that some one had been cutting out figures in the bark of the tree for their amusement—perhaps some idle boys—as I have often done myself, and so had Ben, when he was an idle boy. But during all that day's ramble we had met with no human being, nor had we seen either sign or track of one; and we were pretty certain, from what we had been told, that this part of the country was altogether without inhabitants. Therefore it was, that the figure cut upon the bark of the baobab surprised us—for this was a sign that human beings had been there before us—though it may have been ever so long before.

We approached the trunk then to examine it more closely.

As we came near, we observed that the lines were very deep—as if they had been cut into the wood—but beyond this there was nothing remarkable. There was no other carving, as we had expected,—nothing but this oblong figure, which had something of the shape of a small window or door. In fact, as we stood gazing at it, it suggested to us the idea of a little door that opened into the side of the tree, for the crack all round its edge looked black, as if we could see into some dark cavity beyond it.

This idea occurred to me as I stood gazing at it, and Ben had a similar fancy.

"Dang it, Will'm!" said he, stepping nearer to it, "it be a door, I believe," and then, leaning forward, and striking it with his fist, he exclaimed: "Shiver my timbers, if 'tan't a door! Listen, lad! d'ye hear that? it sounds as hollow as a empty cask!"

Sure enough, the stroke of the sailor's knuckles on the bark gave back a hollow report—quite unlike that which would have been made by striking the solid trunk of a tree. Moreover, we saw that the part which had been struck shook under the blow. Beyond a doubt the tree was hollow, and the part that had attracted us was neither more or less than a door cut in its side.

This point was at once settled; for Ben with another "shiver my timbers," raised his foot, and bestowed a lusty kick upon the part that was loose. It instantly caved in, and exhibited to our astonished eyes a door in the side of the tree leading into a dark cavity beyond!

Ben immediately ran back to the fire; and taking up several of the blazing faggots—and placing them side by side, so as to form a torch— returned with them to the trunk. Holding the torch before the mouth of the cavity, we peeped in, when a sight met our eyes that produced something more than astonishment—something very near akin to terror. We both shared this feeling; and my companion, though a man, and a very brave man, was quite as much terrified as I. In fact, I saw that his frame shook all over, and his hands trembled in such a manner, that several of the faggots fell from his fingers, and he appeared for some seconds to hesitate whether he would not fling the torch away and take to his heels!

It is hardly to be wondered at, when one considers the strange sight that was revealed to our eyes. It would have tried the nerves of the boldest mortal that ever lived, to have looked into that dark tree-cave, without a previous knowledge of what was contained therein; and no wonder that Ben Brace uttered a wild exclamation, and stood shivering in speechless terror.

Within the trunk of the tree was a chamber. It was of square form, about six or seven feet in length, breadth, and height. It was no natural cavity of decayed wood, but had evidently been hollowed out by the hands of men, not very exactly, but roughly hewn as if by an axe.

Along the back a portion of the wood had been left, resembling a bench or banquette, and upon this bench were the objects that excited our terror. Three human forms were seated upon it, with their faces turned towards the entrance. They were sitting—as men ordinarily do when resting themselves—with their backs leaning against the rearmost wall of the chamber, and their arms hanging loosely by their sides—their knees bent, and their limbs somewhat stretched out towards the centre of the floor.

There was no motion on the part of any of the three; for although they were human forms they were not living ones, nor yet were they dead bodies! No, they were neither living men nor dead men, and this added to our consternation on beholding them. Had they been alive, or only corpses, the sight would have been natural; but they were neither one nor the other. In their time they had been both; but it must have been a long while ago, for now they resembled neither!

They were all three shrivelled dried up as mummies, but they were not mummies either. They more resembled skeletons encased in suits of black leather, that, although fitting tightly to their bodies, was nevertheless wrinkled and puckered around them. There was wool upon their crowns—they had evidently been negroes—and their eyes were still in their heads, though lustreless and dried up within the sockets like the rest of the flesh. One thing still preserved its lustre, and that was their teeth. The lips, shrivelled and drawn back, exposed these fully to view; and in the mouths of all three the double rows of teeth were shining like white ivory. These, contrasting with the sombre hue of their skins, and aided by the skeleton form of their heads, and the gaunt prominence of their jaws, produced an appearance that was hideous and unearthly in the extreme.

No wonder my companion shivered when he saw them.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

You will be surprised to hear, that I was not far more frightened than he. It would have been natural that I should—being younger and less courageous, but in reality I was not. In fact, after a little terror which I experienced at the first shock, I was not frightened at all.

Of course such a wild, hideous spectacle—those three skeleton forms, with rigid limbs and bodies, and rows of white grinning teeth—was calculated to produce fear in any one, particularly when discovered in such a singular place, and seen, as we saw them, under the glaring light of a torch: and I will not deny, that at the first glance I was as badly terrified as my companion, and perhaps even worse.

But my terror was short-lived, for almost in the next moment I was quite free from it; and I stood regarding the skeleton bodies with no other feelings than those of a keen curiosity—just as if I had been looking at mummies in a museum.

I know you will be surprised at this exhibition of sangfroid on my part, and deem it extraordinary; but there is nothing extraordinary about it. It was easily explained, and I proceed to give the explanation.

My "wonder book" is again the key—it was to this I was indebted for ridding me of my fright, and once more giving me the advantage over my unlettered companion. In that book I remembered having read—of course in the same chapter that treated of the baobab—how a curious practice existed among some tribes of negroes, of hollowing out the great trunks of these trees into vaults or chambers, and there depositing their dead. It was not those who died naturally who were thus disposed of, but malefactors—men who had been executed for some great crime; and whose bodies were denied the right of burial in the regular way; for these savage people have strong prejudices in such matters, just as we find among the most Christian and civilised nations.

Instead therefore of flinging the bodies, of those upon whom capital punishment has been inflicted, to the hyenas and jackals, and leaving them to be devoured by these voracious brutes, the negroes give them a species of sepulture; and that is as described, by closing them up in vaults hewn in trunks of the baobab—and in my opinion a very comfortable kind of tomb it is. The bodies thus deposited do not decompose or decay as those buried in the ordinary way; on the contrary, from some preservative quality in the wood, or the atmosphere of the place, they become desiccated, or dried up very much after the manner of mummies, and in this state remain for hundreds of years.

You may wonder why the negroes, for the sake of mere criminals, take so much trouble as to form these large vaults in the solid trunks of trees; and especially with such rude implements as they are used to make them with. But this wonder will cease when I inform you, that the hallowing out of a chamber in the trunk of a baobab is a mere bagatelle, and costs but trifling labour. The wood of this great tree is remarkably soft and porous, and a cavity can be scooped out in it, almost as easily as in the side of a turnip—at all events with not greater difficulty than in a hard bank of clay or earth; and it is not uncommon for the negroes to hew out large chambers in the trunks of the baobab for other purposes besides the one above-mentioned.

Remembering to have read the account of all these matters, I had, therefore, quite the advantage of my companion, who had never read a word about them; and, when Ben turned round and perceived that I was regarding the scene with perfect coolness, while he himself was shaking in his shoes, he appeared quite astonished at my behaviour.

I soon explained to him the reason why I was so brave; on hearing which Ben grew brave himself; and, after replenishing our torch by fresh faggots from the fire, we both squeezed ourselves through the narrow entrance, and stood within the chamber of the dead. We were no longer afraid, even to lay our hands upon the skeletons—which we found perfectly dry and in no way decayed, either by being eaten with moths, ants, or destroying insects of any kind—all of which must have been kept away from them by the peculiar odour of the wood by which they were surrounded.

Like enough the hyenas and jackals would have regarded this but little, and would long since have dragged the bodies forth; but as already stated there was a door—and a strong one, which had fitted exactly to the entrance of the chamber, and which was evidently the thick, bark of the tree, that had been carefully cut out, at the making of the chamber, and then replaced. This door fitting exactly had no doubt been firm enough to resist any attack of wild beasts—at the time the bodies had been first deposited within—but being now dry it had got loose, and easily yielded to the sturdy kick of the sailor.

We remained for some time inside this curious apartment and examined every corner of it minutely. It was evident to us that it had not been entered for years—as there was no sign of anything having been disturbed in it. Perhaps no human being had ever opened the door since the dead had been deposited within; and although there was no means of telling how long since that event might have taken place, the appearance of the dry withered bodies plainly pointed to a very ancient date for their interment. Perhaps it may have occurred at a time when the country around was thickly peopled with inhabitants; or at all events when some tribe dwelt in the neighbourhood, who had long ago perished by the hands of their enemies, or what is more likely had been made captive, sold into slavery, and carried across the Atlantic to the colonies of America.

Such reflections were passing through my mind as I stood within that singular chamber, and gazed upon the three strange creatures that had so long been its tenants. I think the reflections of my companion were of a different character. I suspect he was at that moment thinking, whether there might be some treasure entombed along with them, for he was carrying his torch into every corner of the apartment, and eagerly searching every crack and cranny with his eyes, as if he expected something to turn up—perhaps a bag of gold-dust, or some of those precious stones that are often found in possession of the savages.

If he had any such expectations, however, he was doomed to disappointment; for, with the exception of the three skeletons themselves, not one article of any kind—neither of dress or ornament— was found in the place.

Having satisfied himself about this, and taken one more glance at the three silent denizens of the tree-chamber, Ben, in a serio-comic fashion, made a salaam to them, and wished them good-night.

We now returned to our fire with the intention of going to sleep; for although it was not yet late, we felt wearied after the day's wandering about and, stretching ourselves along the dry ground by the side of the blazing faggots, we composed ourselves for the night.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

We both fell asleep almost instantaneously, but I am unable to say how long we continued to sleep. It did not seem more than five minutes, and then we were awakened by a noise, that was loud enough and disagreeable enough to have waked up the dead. It was one of the strangest noises I had ever heard in my life; and neither of us could make out what was causing it, though there could be no doubt it proceeded from some kind of animals.

At first we thought it was wolves, or rather hyenas and jackals—since these are the wolves of Africa—and some of the sounds resembled the voices of these creatures, with which we were already acquainted, from hearing them every night around the barracoons of King Dingo, and along the banks of the river. But there were other sounds of a different kind—shrill screams, and calls like the mewing of cats, and now and them a chattering and gibbering that bore a resemblance to the voices of human beings, or, more correctly, to the ravings of maniacs!

Evidently there were many creatures making these noises; but what sort of beings they were, neither my companion nor I could form any conjecture. The sounds were harsh and disagreeable—every tone of them calculated to produce terror in those who might listen to them,—and they terrified us as soon as we were awake to hear them.

Both of us sprang instantly up, and looked around in affright, expecting every moment to be attacked; but although we could hear the noises on every side, we were as yet unable to see who or what was making them. Our fire glimmered faintly, and enabled us to see only to a very short distance around us; but in order to get a better view, Ben mechanically kicked up the half-burnt sticks; and then a bright blaze was produced, which lit up the whole space shadowed by the branches of the baobab.

As yet we could see nothing—for the noises proceeded out of the thick darkness beyond; but we could perceive that they came from all sides— from behind as well as before us. Whatever creatures they were that were uttering these horrid sounds were not all in one place; they were everywhere around the great tree; we were in fact surrounded by a large host of them—completely encompassed.

The sounds now appeared to grow louder and nearer; and as we stood gazing out into the darkness, we began to perceive certain bright spots, that scintillated and sparkled like jets of moving fire. These spots were round and a greenish lustre; and as we looked upon them we were soon able to tell what they were—they were eyes!

Yes, they were the eyes of some animals, though of what sort we could not guess. That they were fierce creatures, perhaps beasts of prey, we had every reason to believe. Their wild cries, and the manner of their approach proved this; for they were approaching—every moment drawing nearer and nearer.

In a very few seconds they had got so close, that we could see them distinctly enough, and no longer conjectured about what kind of animals they were. I knew them as soon as the light enabled me to get a view of them. I knew them from having seen some of their kind in a menagerie, and my companion was even better acquainted with them—they were baboons.

The discovery did not in any way tend to allay the apprehensions which their voices had created. Quite the contrary was the effect produced. We both knew well enough the fierce disposition of these brutes—any one who has ever witnessed their behaviour in the cage must be acquainted with the fact, that they are the most spiteful and savage creatures that can be imagined, and exceedingly dangerous to be approached. And this, too, after being tamed and constantly receiving kindness from the hand of man! Still more dangerous when in their native haunts—so much so, that the woods which they inhabited are never traversed by the natives without great precaution, and only when several persons well-armed go together.

Now both my companion and I were well acquainted with these facts; and to say that we were scared, when we saw the baboons approaching our place of encampment, is only to declare the simple truth. We were scared and badly scared too—quite as much terrified as we had been by the sight of the lion.

We saw, moreover, that these baboons were of the largest, and most dangerous kind—for there are several different species of baboons in Africa. These were the hideous "mandrills," as we could tell by their great swollen cheeks, of purple and scarlet colour, that shone conspicuously under the light of our fire. We could distinguish their thick hog-like snouts, and yellow chin-beards as they advanced; and we had no doubt about what sort of enemy was before us.

Had there been only one or two of these hideous brutes, an attack from them would have been dangerous enough—far more so than an encounter with hyenas or fierce mastiff dogs, for the mandrill is more than a match for either. But what was our dismay on perceiving that the brutes were in great numbers—in fact a whole flock or tribe was on the ground, and advancing towards us from all sides. Turn which way we would, their eyes were gleaming upon us, and their painted faces shining under the blaze. From all sides came their cries of menace—so shrill and loud that we could not hear our own voices, as we spoke to one another!

About their design there could be no doubt: they were evidently advancing to attack us: and the reason why they did not rush forward at once may have been that they had some dread of approaching the fire; or perhaps they had not yet made up their minds as to what sort of enemies we were.

It was not likely, however, that the fire would keep them off for any long period of time. They would soon become accustomed to it; and, in fact, every moment they appeared to gain confidence and drew nearer and nearer.

What was to be done? Against such a host we could not defend ourselves, not for five minutes, had we been armed ever so well. The powerful brutes would have pulled us down in the twinkling of an eye, and torn us to pieces with their strong hog-like tusks. Defence would be idle— there was no other mode of escape than to endeavour to get away from the ground.

But how? to climb up into the tree would not avail us, though it had saved us from the lion. These mandrills could climb better than we; they would soon overtake us, and tear us to pieces among the branches.

We next thought of running out into the open ground, and escaping by flight. Probably we should have made the attempt, but turn which way we might we saw that the baboons were in the way—a complete circle of them had formed around us, several ranks deep; and had we attempted to pass through them, it was plain they could have seized upon us and dragged us down. In short, we were surrounded, and our retreat cut off.

We were fairly at a stand, and could think of no means of escape. And yet to remain where we were, was to be attacked to a certainty; for every moment the threatening ranks were closing around us—still continuing to utter the same horrid cries—which, probably, were partly meant to terrify us, and partly to encourage each other in the outset. I am very sure that but for the fire—which was no doubt a strange sight to them—they would not have wasted time in the attack, but would have sprung forward upon us at once. But the fire, which they still appeared to regard with some degree of suspicion, held them back.

Perceiving this, my companion bethought him of a means of farther putting them in fear; and, calling me to follow his example, he caught up one of the blazing faggots, and, rushing out towards the nearest, waved the brand in their faces. I did as I saw him, only going towards the opposite side of the circle of our assailants.

The manoeuvre was not without its effect. The baboons retreated before this odd species of assault, but not so precipitately, as to leave any hope of our being able to drive them off altogether. On the contrary, as soon as we stopped they stopped also; and when we returned towards the fire to exchange our brands for others, they followed us up and came as close as ever. They grew even more furious and noisy—for the fact that we had not injured any of them taught them to look upon our firebrands as harmless weapons, and no longer to be dreaded.

We repeated the manoeuvre more than once; but it soon ceased to inspire them with fear; and we had to wave the torches before their very snouts before we could cause them to turn tail and run from us.

"This way won't do, Will'm," said my companion, in a voice that told his alarm, "they won't be run off, lad! I'll try 'em with a shot from the old piece—maybe that'll send 'em a bit."

The "Queen Anne," was loaded, as usual, with small shot; and we had thought of firing at them when they first came up; but we knew that the small shot would only sting them, without doing any real injury, and, consequently, render them more furious, and implacable. We had, therefore, abstained from firing the gun, until we should try the effect of the firebrands.

Now, however, Ben was determined, that at least one of them should pay the forfeit; and I saw him pushing the ramrod into the gun—just as we had done when loading for the lion.

In a few seconds he had got ready; and then stepping forward till he stood near the line of the threatening mandrills, he pointed the piece at one of the largest and fired.

A scream of pain announced that he had aimed well; and the great brute was seen sprawling over the ground, and struggling in the agonies of death—while a crowd of its companions rushing from all sides gathered around it. At the same instant I had fired the pistol and wounded another of them, which also became the centre of a sympathising group, Ben and I, after firing, ran back to the fire. It was impossible to reload the gun—since the ramrod was now sticking in the body of the baboon—but, even had we been in possession of a dozen ramrods, we should not have found time to use them. The effect of our shots, fatal as they had been, was the very reverse of what might have been anticipated. Instead of intimidating our assailants, it had only increased their courage; and now, forsaking their fallen comrades, they returned to the attack with redoubled rage and with evident determination to close with us without more ado.

We saw that the crisis had come; I had seized one of the largest of the firebrands, and my companion held the musket clubbed and ready to deal blows around him. But what would these have availed against such numbers? we should soon be overpowered, and dragged down—never more to regain our feet—but to be torn to fragments by those terrible teeth, gnashing and threatening all around us.

And this would most certainly have been our fate, had not that moment offered a means of escape from our perilous position.

A means did offer itself, and it was odd we had not thought of it before.

Just as we were at the height of despair—expecting every moment to be our last—our eyes chanced to turn on the dark doorway that opened into the side of the tree—the entrance to the chamber of the dead. It was still open—for we had not returned the bark slab to its place, and it was lying where we had thrown it on the ground outside. Both of us noticed the doorway at the same instant, and simultaneously recognised in it a means of escape—for both shouted as with one voice and rushed towards it together.

Narrow as was the entrance we passed quickly through. A rabbit could scarce have glided more rapidly into its burrow; and, before any of the pursuing mandrills could lay a tooth upon our skirts, we had got inside, and were once more in the company of the skeletons.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

Do not suppose that we considered ourselves safe. We were simply safe for the moment—as our disappearance into the hollow of the tree, being sudden and unexpected, had taken the mandrills by surprise, and they had not followed us inside. Nevertheless they had rushed after—the whole troop of them at our heels—and from their demonstrations, it was evident they would not delay long before jumping through the doorway, and assailing us within the chamber. They were already close to the entrance, and with loud gibbering menaced us from the outside. Another moment, and we might expect them to charge in upon us.

The entrance was yet open—the slab lay outside, and we dared not go back for it—we had nothing to use for a door—nothing by which we could shut the brutes out; and all we could think of was to stand by the entrance and defend it as we best might. Ben with the long musket, and I with a brand, which I still clutched, but which no longer blazed, and could only be used as a bludgeon. Should these weapons fail, we would have to take out our knives, and make the best fight we could; but we knew that if the baboons once got inside, so as to surround us, we should not have long to live.

The screaming brutes had all come up, and we could see them plainly under the blaze of the faggots. They covered the whole space between the trunk of the tree and the fire; and as near as we could estimate their number, there were about three score of them. They danced madly about, uttering loud wails—as if lamenting their fallen comrades—and then breaking out into more clamorous cries, that expressed rage and the desire for vengeance. They had not yet made their rush for the entrance; but there was a large crowd of them standing, or rather leaping about in front of it, that seemingly only waited for some signal to spring forward.

We stood in anxious expectation—holding our weapons ready to dash them back. We knew we could do nothing more than "job" them; and we were apprehensive about the result. Despite all our efforts, some of them might get past us; and then we should be assailed in the rear, and of course vanquished and destroyed.

"If we only could get at the door?" said I, looking towards the slab, which could be seen where it lay outside.

"'Tan't possible," answered Ben, "the filthy beasts are all around it— they'd pull us to pieces if we only showed nose outside. Dash my buttons. Will! if I han't got a plan—we'll do without the door—you keep 'em back while I stop the gap. Here take the gun—its better'n that stick—look sharp, lad!—knock 'em back—that's the way!"

And in this manner Ben continued to direct me, long after he had delivered the musket into my hands. I noticed that he had glided behind me, but for what purpose I could not guess; but, indeed, I had no time for guessing, as the baboons were now beyond all doubt resolved to force an entrance, and it required all my strength and activity to keep them back with the muzzle of the piece. One after another sprang up on the step of the narrow doorway, and one after another was sent rolling back again, by blows that I gave with all the force I could put into my arms; and these blows I was compelled to repeat as rapidly, as the strokes of a blacksmith's hammer in the shoeing of a horse.

I could not have continued the exercise long. I should soon have been tired down at it; and then the implacable crowd would have rushed in; but it was not necessary for me to work very long—for just then, I felt my companion pressing past me towards the entrance, which the next moment became darkened up. Only through some chinks, could I distinguish the blaze beyond, and only through these was the light admitted into the chamber!

What had caused the interruption? What was it that was stopping up the entrance? was it the body of my companion, who was thus exposing himself to the assaults of the infuriated crowd without?

Not a bit of it. Ben Brace knew better than to sacrifice his life in that idle way; and, on stretching forward his hand, and touching the dark mass that was now interposed between us and the danger, I perceived what it was. It was one of the malefactors!

Neither more nor less was it than one of the mummies, which Ben had seized hold of, and, after doubling it up, had crammed chuck into the entrance, which it nearly filled from bottom to top.

The barricade was not yet complete; and my companion after directing me to hold it in place, glided back to procure another of the same. This he soon brought forward, and after doubling it up as he had done the first, and bundling it into the proper size and shape—regardless of the snapping of bones and the crackling of joints—he pushed it in alongside the other, until the two wedged each other, and completely shut up the doorway!

Such a scene might have been comic enough—notwithstanding the sacred character of the place—but neither my companion nor I were in any humour for comedy. Matters were still too serious; and although the idea of this skeleton barricade was a good one, we were not yet assured of safety. It might only give us a temporary respite; for we feared that our ferocious assailants would attack the mummies with their teeth, and soon demolish the barrier that lay between us.

And this they certainly would have done, but for a contrivance which occurred to us; and that was to leave two small apertures through which we could still "job" them, and keep them off. Two chinks were found between the bodies of the malefactors, and these were soon worked to the proper size—so that the musket could be protruded through one, and the stick through the other—and by keeping these weapons in constant play, we were able to push back the brutes, whenever they approached near enough to seize hold of our skeleton barricade.

Fortunately the doorway sloped out from the chamber—after the manner of an embrasure in a fortress—and on this account the bodies were wedged tightly against the cheeks on both sides; so that although it would have been easy to remove them from the inside, it would have required a strong pull to have drawn them outward. So long, therefore, as we could prevent the mandrills from tearing them to pieces, we should be safe enough.

For more than an hour we were kept at constant work, shoving our weapons backward and forward like a pair of sawyers. At length, however, the assaults of the enemy outside, became feebler, and more desultory. They began to perceive that they could not effect an entrance, and as most of them had by this time received a good punch in the head, or between the ribs, they were not so eager to try it again.

But, although they at length desisted from their attempts to break in upon us, we could still hear them as before. We could no longer see them—for the fire had gone out, and all was darkness, both outside and within.

Not a ray of light reached us from any quarter; and we passed the night in the midst of perfect darkness and gloom.

But not in silence: all night long the troop kept up its chorus of screams, and howlings and wailings; and although we listened attentively in the hopes that we might hear some signs of departure, our ears were not gratified by any such sounds.

It was certainly one of the most unpleasant nights that either my companion or I had ever passed. I need not say that neither of us slept, we had not a wink of sleep throughout the live-long night; nor would it have been possible for Morpheus himself to have slept under the circumstances. We had heard of the implacable disposition which not only the mandrills, but other baboon-monkeys exhibit when they have been assailed by an enemy; we had heard that their resentment once kindled, cannot be again allayed until the object of it either becomes their victim, or else escapes altogether beyond their reach. With the monkey tribe it is not as with lions, buffaloes, rhinoceroses, or other dangerous beasts that maybe encountered in the forests of Africa. When the enemy is out of sight, all these animals seem to forget the assault that may have been made upon them, or, at all events, soon give over their hostile intentions. Not so with the baboons. These monstrous creatures possess an intelligence far superior to that of ordinary quadrupeds. In fact, they are capable of a certain amount of reasoning power, which although far inferior in degree to that of the human species, is nevertheless of precisely the same character.

There are some people who think it savouring of profanity to make an assertion of this kind; but there are people of very weak minds, who are afraid to look philosophy in the face, lest it should contradict some favourite dogma, in which they have long been accustomed to put faith. Such people will boldly give denial to the most positive facts, that may be observed both in the geological and zoological world; and do not scruple to give hard names to those who have the candour to acknowledge these facts. It is absurd to deny that monkeys are possessed of reasoning powers; no man could stand five minutes in front of a monkeys' cage in any of our great zoological gardens, without being convinced of this fact.

With the baboons, the reasoning faculty is not so strongly developed as it is in some other species of the ape tribe, as the great ourang and the chimpanzee; but for all that, Ben Brace and I knew it was strong enough to enable them fully to understand the situation in which we were placed, and to know that we could not possibly escape from our tree-prison without passing before their eyes. We knew, too, that their passions were still stronger than their reasoning powers; that after such offence as we had given them, by killing one of their number— perhaps a venerated leader of the tribe—wounding another, and administering violent "punches" to nearly every individual in the gang, there was not the slightest probability that they would suffer us to escape without first trying the effect of a long siege upon us.

If this was to be the case, we could have no hope of escape. The mandrills might remain upon the ground as long as they pleased. Some might go off to obtain food and drink, while the others watched; and thus they could relieve one another. For that matter, drink was to be had near at hand—at the fine spring where we had eaten our supper— though, for any good it could do us, it might as well have been fifty miles off. Food too the monkeys could easily procure in the woods close by the base of the hill, or they might sustain themselves on the large fruit of the baobab, which was their favourite and peculiar food, and on this account called the monkeys' bread-fruit. In fact, my companion and I now suspected that the great tree was their habitual place of resort— their roost or dwelling-place—and that they had been just on their way home, from their day's rambling in the woods, when they first came upon us. This would account for the fierce and unprovoked attack which they had at once made upon our camp.

Under all these considerations then it was no wonder that neither of us thought of going to sleep, but on the contrary, sat up throughout the whole night, kept awake by a full apprehension of our peril. We had hopes—though we were far from being sanguine about it—that as soon as day broke, our besiegers might be tempted to follow their habitual routine, and might go off into the woods.

Alas! when morning came, we saw to our dismay that they had no such design; from their cries and gestures we were satisfied that the siege was to be sustained. They were all there—all that we had seen upon the preceding night—and it appeared as if there were many more. No doubt others had joined them from the woods; for there were not less than a hundred of them. The hideous brutes appeared all around—some squatted on the ground, some up in the branches of the baobab—and in the midst of a chattering group we could see the carcass of the one that had been killed while close by was the wounded individual, also surrounded by sympathising friends.

Now and again, a band would collect together; and apparently inspired by a fresh burst of rage, would crowd up to the entrance of our asylum, and renew their attack upon the barricade. We, as before, would repel them, until they perceived that their attempts were futile, and then they would desist, and retire until something arising among themselves seemed to instigate them to a renewed assault.

This was their conduct throughout the whole of that day, and during all the time were we kept shut up in our gloomy cell. We had strengthened our barricade—by materials obtained from the third malefactor—and so far felt safe enough; but we now began to have fears of another enemy— one that was as terrible in its attack, and as powerful to destroy, as either the mandrills, or the strong lion himself. That enemy was not new to us; we had already had an encounter with it; we had met it among the branches of the dragon-tree, and we were now to meet it again beside the trunk of the baobab. It was thirst.

Yes, we already experienced its painful sensation. Every moment it was gaining ground upon us, and its pangs becoming keener and harder to endure. Should the siege continue much longer, we knew not how we could endure it.

Should the siege continue? It did continue throughout all that day, the fierce brutes remained by the tree throughout all the following night; and when the second morning dawned, we saw them around as numerous as ever, and apparently as implacable and determined on vengeance as they had been at their first onset!

What were we to do? Without rest, without sleep, without food, but worst of all without water, we could exist no longer. To go out was to be destroyed—torn to atoms—devoured; to stay where we were was to die of thirst—a more lingering and painful death! what were we to do?

We were in deep despair—we had almost yielded up the hope of being saved—not almost, but altogether.

We could have had no hope, except that our assailants might become tired of the protracted siege and leave us. But, as already observed, these creatures possess intelligence that resembles that of human beings. They perfectly comprehended our situation, and knowing it, were not likely to give us any chance of escape; there was no hope.

In this belief had we continued for some time, sitting side by side in a state of extreme dejection. Neither of us said a word. We had nothing to say—no counsel to offer to each other.

We had several times talked over the possibility of fighting our way through the host of mandrills, and escaping by swiftness of foot. We knew that, once in the open ground, we could run faster than they; for although the baboons run well through thickets and woods—where they occasionally help themselves forward by grasping the boughs of the trees—and although upon open ground they progress faster than many other kinds of monkeys, yet a man can outrun them.

This we knew, and were now very regretful that we had not made a burst through their line, and gone off at first, as we should have done. Afterwards it became more difficult to do so, as the crowd got greater, and hemmed us in more closely, and we had looked upon it as altogether impossible. Now, however, that the terrible thirst was impelling us, we had almost made up our minds to issue forth and run the gauntlet. Ben argued that it would be better to do so than perish by inches in that dark cavern; and I was in the mind to agree with him. We would be certain to have a terrible struggle, and be badly torn; in all probability one or both of us would fall: but the prospect appeared the less dreadful on account of the suffering we endured from thirst. I may add that we were hungry as well; but this was but a secondary consideration when compared with the pangs of the sister appetite.

Another cause of uneasiness now presented itself. The baboons, apparently becoming impatient at waiting so long for their vengeance, seemed to have been forming plans of their own, and began to make fresh attempts upon the skeleton barricade. In twos and threes they attacked it with their teeth; and at each assault portions of the dry skin and bones of the mummies were carried off. It was plain that if this should continue much longer the whole three malefactors would be demolished, and we could no longer defend the entrance. Of course after that there could be but one result—our destruction.

More than ever did we give way to despair; and, hardly deeming it worth while to exert ourselves, we remained passively awaiting the crisis.

All of a sudden I perceived my companion rouse himself from his despondent attitude and commence fumbling about over the floor. What could he be after? I put the question.

"I've got an idea, Will!" was his reply, "shiver my timbers!" continued he, "if I don't believe I can scatter them apes to the four points o' the compass."

"How?" I eagerly inquired.

"You'll see, lad! where be the skin o' the lion?"

"I'm sitting upon it," said I, "do you want it?"

"Yes—quick! give it me, Will!"

It was by a mere chance that the lion's hide had been brought inside the chamber. We had not used it as a cover—on account of its being still raw—and, previous to the appearance of the baboons, it had been rolled up, and laid in the entrance of the tree-cave as the fittest place that offered. In rushing inside, it had been kicked before us; and thus it was that we happened to be in possession of it.

Without losing a second of time, I pulled it from under me, and handed it to my companion. I already suspected the use he intended to make of it; and without further explanation, I went to work to assist him in his design.

In ten minutes after, the body of Ben Brace was completely enveloped in the skin of the lion; which was tied and corded around him in such a manner, that it would have required sharper eyes than those of a baboon to have discovered the counterfeit.

His design was to sally forth in this disguise and show himself to the baboons, with the hope that the appearance of their king might terrify them into flight. If it did not produce this effect, Ben reasoned, that we could be no worse off than ever, as he could retreat back into the cave and we could barricade it as before.

There was certainly some probability that the plan might succeed. We knew that nearly all animals have a great dread of the lion, and that the baboons are no exception to the rule. Often the very sight of the forest-monarch will terrify other wild beasts to such an extent that they will run before him as from the presence of a human being. The ingenious plan, therefore, of counterfeiting the lion, which my companion had conceived, was not without good probability of success; and we were both cheered by the prospect.

To make sure that failure should not arise from haste or carelessness in the preparations, we proceeded with due care and caution, and took plenty of time to get everything complete. We sheathed Ben's arms in the skin that had covered the fore-limbs of the lion, stretching it out till the paws concealed his knuckles. The legs were wrapped in the hide that had enveloped the posterior limbs of the great beast; and we had a good deal of trouble before the "pantaloons" could be made to fit. The head was easily adapted to the crown of the sailor; and the ample skin of the body met in front, and was there fastened by strings. Fortunately we had plenty of cord. That fine piece, that had already done such good service, was still in our possession, and we again made use of it to advantage.

At length the masquerading costume was deemed complete, and the lion was ready to play his part.

We were cautious, too, about the disposal of the mummies, so that, in case of need, they might serve us again: and, when all was arranged to our satisfaction, we pulled them back out of the entrance.

Our manoeuvres had now attracted the attention of the besiegers—who showed by their cries and movements that they were upon the alert.

Just at this crisis the lion sailed forth; and if ever there was a helter-skelter among a troop of monkeys worth witnessing, my companion and I saw it at that moment. There was screaming and yelling, and jabbering and gibbering, and a rushing in every direction—except that which would have conducted towards the counterfeit lion—which beast was all the while making the most violent demonstrations, and uttering loud noises, that in deepness of baritone almost equalled the roar of the forest-monarch himself!

What became of the baboons we could not tell—they seemed to vanish into the earth, or the air: at all events in less than two minutes, from the time the lion made his appearance outside the baobab, not one of them was to be seen; and the tawny quadruped, all at once ceasing to roar like a lion, could be heard emitting from his fierce jaws loud yells of human laughter!

We stayed not much longer under the shadow of the baobab. It was dangerous ground. The mandrills might discover the cheat and come back; so, with this apprehension in our thoughts, we took a hasty leave of our aged friends the mummies, and hurried rapidly down the hill. We halted only to drink, and then pushed onward.

It was near noon of the third day, from the time of our starting on our expedition, before we astonished by our reappearance the crew of the Pandora.



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

The Pandora was now rapidly made ready for her voyage across the Atlantic. The carpenter had finished his bulkheads and hatch-gratings, and the men were daily engaged in emptying the salt-water out of the casks and refilling them with fresh—a somewhat slow and troublesome job.

While these preparations were going on, a messenger arrived at the factory of King Dingo Bingo, who brought with him a report that put his majesty into the most terrible state of uneasiness and alarm, and also produced a very similar effect upon the skipper of the Pandora.

The messenger, or messengers—for there were three of them—were negroes, of course. They were of the kind known as Kroomen; that is, a class of negroes found along most parts of the western coast of Africa, who are greatly addicted to the sea, and make excellent sailors when so employed. They are, in fact, the "boatmen" of the African coast, or "watermen," if you prefer it, but not unfrequently they ship for a long voyage; and many vessels in the African trade are accustomed, when short of hands, to make up their crew from among these Kroomen.

Three of these Kroomen, then, had suddenly made their appearance in the river, with a report that spread consternation among the people of King Dingo Bingo and those of the Pandora.

What was this report?

It was that a British cruiser had called in at a station some fifty miles farther up the coast, and reported that she had been in chase of a large slave barque—that she had lost sight of the latter out at sea, but was still in search of her, and expected to find her to the south— that the cruiser only stopped at the above-mentioned port to take in water, and, as soon as that was accomplished, she should come down the coast and search every nook and inlet to find the slaver.

Most of this information had been given confidentially to the chief factor of the port, an Englishman, whose business lay in palm-oil, ground-nuts, ivory, and other African products, and who was not supposed to have any connection whatever with the slave-trade. On the contrary, he was one of those who lent his aid to its suppression: giving every assistance to the slave-cruisers, and being on terms of friendship and intimacy with their commanders.

But for all that, this comfortable John Bull was suspected—not by the aforesaid commanders, however—of having very amicable relations with his majesty King Dingo Bingo—so amicable that there were those who hinted at a sort of partnership existing between them!

Be that as it may, it is certain that the Englishman had sent the three Kroomen to warn King Dingo Bingo of his danger—for there was no secret made of this fact on board the Pandora. The Kroomen had ventured round the coast in a small sail-boat, and entered by the mouth of the river, having performed most part of the dangerous voyage in the night.

Their report, as I have said, produced consternation on all hands. There could be no doubt that the cruiser was the cutter that had chased us; and knowing that the slaver had gone southward after giving her the slip, she would take that direction to look out for her, and would be certain to explore every inch of the coast in her cruise. Of course the river would not be likely to escape her observation, and if she should there find the Pandora, it would be all up with the slaver. Probably enough, the cruiser may have picked up a pilot, who knew all about King Dingo Bingo and his slave-factory. If so, it would not be long before she would be down upon us. She might be looked for every minute!

No wonder, then, that the report of the Kroomen carried consternation with it.

As for the "king," he was far less terrified than the "captain." His villainous majesty had far less to fear from a visit of the cruiser. He had already made his bargain; and although the slaves were still in the barracoon, they were no longer his, and it mattered not to him into whose hands they fell. He had received his full pay for them in the rum, salt, and muskets; these had been landed and handed over, and as soon as he could remove them beyond the reach of the cruiser, he would be perfectly safe and at his ease.

This precaution he took as soon as the Kroomen had delivered their report. His followers were set to work, and in a few hours every article that had been landed from the barque was carried away from the "factory" and hidden far off in the woods. When the work of removal was over his majesty lit his pipe and filled his glass, and then sat him down as coolly and unconcernedly as if there was not a cruiser on all the African coast.

Very different, however, was the situation of the captain of the Pandora. It is true, he might also have hidden part of his property. He might have run off the slaves into the woods and there concealed them for a time; and it was amusing to see with what energy the "king" counselled him to his course. His majesty saw, that if this plan was adopted, and the cruiser should appear in the river, then the barque would be taken and the slaves left behind, and out of all this confusion there must be some advantage to himself; there would be a chance that the five hundred "bultos" would fall into his hands, and he would be able to sell them a second time. This was, indeed, a rich prospect, and, without hinting to any probable advantage to himself, the old rascal kept urging the skipper to adopt this plan with an anxiety and importunity that was quite ludicrous.

But the captain could not be brought to comply with the advice. He knew the danger of trusting the five hundred slaves in the woods. Most of them might take "leg-bail" for it, and, maybe, his "dear friend" King Dingo Bingo might not guard them from this so very carefully! Some of them might find their way to their own homes again, but a good many would be likely to stray back to King Dingo's town, and it would be a hard matter to identify goods that were so much like each other as negroes are.

Besides, if he could even succeed in hiding the cargo, he could not hope to hide the vessel. The cutter, if she came near the river at all, would be certain to find the barque, and equally certain to capture her. That done, what would become of the slaves? what would become of the captain himself, and his crew? They would have difficulty enough either to subsist, or find their way out of such an inhospitable land—for the skipper well knew that, his fine vessel once gone, his dear friend Dingo would behave towards him in quite a different manner. Yes, the skipper was an experienced man, and knew all that, and, knowing it, he lent a deaf ear to the counsels of the "king."

As soon, therefore, as the report of the Kroomen reached him—for it did not reach him until some time after his majesty had received it—he at once formed a resolve as to how he should act, and that resolve was to embark his cargo as speedily as possible, and, without wasting a moment, stand out to sea.

This the wary skipper perceived to be his best plan; in fact, the only one by which he could hope to save his vessel. If the cruiser was actually coming down the coast—and there could be no doubt but that she was—his only chance would be to get out before she arrived opposite the mouth of the river. Should she once come there before he could put to sea, then the barque would be regularly in the trap, and an armed boat or two from the cutter would capture her without any difficulty, indeed, without resistance; for rough, and brutal, and bold, as were the crew of the slaver, they knew very well that it would be idle to resist the well-organised attack of a ship of war, or half-a-dozen armed boats, such as the cutter could set afloat. The capture of the barque would, therefore, be a thing of course, and the only chance her owner had of saving her would be to put to sea at once.

The wind was light—it was blowing from the coast—both which circumstances were greatly in favour of the Pandora's escape. The contrary wind would be likely to hinder the cruiser from coming near, at all events it would delay her, and then, should the slaver succeed in getting out, a light breeze, as already seen, would be altogether in her favour, and against her antagonist.

Elated by these hopes, but still under terrible anxiety, the captain lost no time in getting his cargo aboard.



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

All the slaver's boats were called into requisition, and the crew—every man of them—were as busy as bees.

Perhaps Brace and myself were the only ones among them who had no heart in the work; but, to keep up appearances, we were compelled to labour as the rest.

The embarkation was easy enough, and the stowage still more so. It was a different affair from taking on board a cargo of heavy barrels and boxes. The living "bales" moved of their own accord, or were forced to move, if they did not, and there was nothing further required than to march them from the barracoon to the bank, then row them to the vessel, hurry them over the side, and huddle them down the hatch to the "'tweendecks" below. The males and females were put into different compartments, though this was not done out of any regard to decency, but merely for convenience. When "stowed" thus they would be easier managed upon the passage—such was the experience of the slave-traders. The bulk-head that separated them was very slight, and they could communicate through it with each other.

With the women were stowed all the younger slaves, both girls and boys, and there were many children, poor little "piccaninnies," jet-black, and naked as when born. Indeed, most of the whole crowd were naked, both men and women. Some of the latter had a simple skirt of cotton, or plaited palm-leaves hanging around them, and a few of the men had a piece of coarse cloth about their thighs, but many were without even this apology for a garment. Whatever they may have worn in their native place had been taken from them. No doubt the followers of King Dingo, when making them captives, had robbed them also of their scant wardrobe. The men were manacled together in twos, and sometimes three and four in a group. This was to prevent any attempt at escape, and was the work of his majesty. Only a few of the women wore chains; most likely they were those who possessed a stronger spirit than their wretched companions, and had proved refractory on their inland journey, or while kept in the barracoon. These manacles were not removed by the people of the Pandora, but just as the blacks had been delivered over, so were they crowded aboard, chains, fetters, and all.

King Dingo Bingo stood upon the bank by the place of landing and watched the embarkation, in which his bodyguard assisted. The skipper was by his side, and the two held conversation just in the same manner as if they superintended the lading of a cargo of ordinary merchandise! His majesty occasionally pointed out some one of the slaves, and made his remarks upon the qualities of the individual. He was either a good "bulto"—valuable article—or some refractory fellow that the captain was desired to watch well on the voyage. Many of the poor victims were evidently well-known to this hideous monster, and, indeed, as already hinted at, some of them were his own subjects! King Dingo Bingo thought nothing of that so long as he could sell them and get pay in return. His relation to his people generally was that of complete master and owner; and he felt towards them as a farmer to his hogs, or a grazier to his cattle. He and the captain gaily chatted and joked and laughed, when any of the poor wretches passed them whose appearance was calculated to excite ridicule; while to me the whole scene was one of disgust and sorrow, and with sad, sad heart did I assist in the spectacle.