the king with a movement at once
commanding and compassionate. All the courtiers stopped weeping to
gasp in consternation at this sacrilege; one or two stood up; and in
the shadows a blade of steel returned the crimson gleam of the embers.

Lawrence Teck said gently, as if talking to a child:

"Alas! my brother, I should lead you only to some death unbefitting a
king. You were happy before you made me your captive; these chains
have tormented you as much as me. Strike them off, and let me go.
Forget me, and free yourself from vain thoughts."

"I should not forget you, Bangana," the king responded in a small, thin
tone, as though the virile resonance of his voice had passed away with
all his naive and grandiose hopes. "All those tales! To whom shall I
listen now at night? Besides, it has been good to see you here every
day; for you alone in these forests have really understood my
heart--and have stabbed it to death with your wisdom."

He pondered dismally, while the councilors and chieftains wept out his
unexpressed grief, so that the whole pavilion was filled with their
full-throated sobbing.

"Will you ever return, Bangana?"

"Why not? To persuade you to peace instead of war. To make treaties
for the passage of my workmen through your forests to the new mines,
and to give your people work if they will accept it."

The king closed his eyes.

"All that again! What are these white man's promises? Have they made
the other tribes happy in their slavery? No, my face will be glad when
you return to see me; but never ask me to let the white foot wedge
itself in the door of my country. There would only be a great battle
without you to help me in it. I and my race, if we cannot be mighty,
at least will die free men."

He rose from his heels, and in a strangling voice called out to the
guards, who came headlong, stooping, through the low entrance of the
pavilion, with bared teeth and darting spears.

"Strike off the chains from my brother!" shouted Muene-Motapa, as one
should say, "Slay my dreams!"

Then he stalked away, to sit alone in darkness. Next day, with an
escort of Mambava warriors, Lawrence Teck set out for the coast.

At the bidding of the king, to do honor to the white man who was
leaving them, they had put on their gala paint, and their plumed
headgear bound under their chins with fur lappets. Their bangles made
a cheerful clatter as they marched along the dim trails between the
enormous