know little about the Pongo, whom I scarcely ever
see."

"Then, madam, you must take my word for it that they are; also, as I
believe, that they have every expectation of eating _us_. Now, as I
presume that you do not wish to spend the rest of your lives, which
would probably be short, upon this island, I want to ask how you propose
to escape safely out of the Pongo country?"

They shook their heads, which were evidently empty of ideas. Only John
stroked his white beard, and inquired mildly:

"What have you arranged, Allan? My dear wife and I are quite willing to
leave the matter to you, who are so resourceful."

"Arranged!" I stuttered. "Really, John, under any other
circumstances----" Then after a moment's reflection I called to Hans and
Mavovo, who came and squatted down upon the verandah.

"Now," I said, after I had put the case to them, "what have _you_
arranged?" Being devoid of any feasible suggestions, I wished to pass on
that intolerable responsibility.

"My father makes a mock of us," said Mavovo solemnly. "Can a rat in a
pit arrange how it is to get out with the dog that is waiting at the
top? So far we have come in safety, as the rat does into the pit. Now I
see nothing but death."

"That's cheerful," I said. "Your turn, Hans."

"Oh! Baas," replied the Hottentot, "for a while I grew clever again when
I thought of putting the gun _Intombi_ into the bamboo. But now my head
is like a rotten egg, and when I try to shake wisdom out of it my brain
melts and washes from side to side like the stuff in the rotten egg.
Yet, yet, I have a thought--let us ask the Missie. Her brain is young
and not tired, it may hit on something: to ask the Baas Stephen is no
good, for already he is lost in other things," and Hans grinned feebly.

More to give myself time than for any other reason I called to Miss
Hope, who had just emerged from the sacred enclosure with Stephen, and
put the riddle to her, speaking very slowly and clearly, so that she
might understand me. To my surprise she answered at once.

"What is a god, O Mr. Allen? Is it not more than man? Can a god be bound
in a pit for a thousand years, like Satan in Bible? If a god want to
move, see new country and so on, who can say no?"

"I don't quite understand," I said, to draw her out further, although,
in fact, I had more than a glimmering of what she meant.

"O Allan, Holy Flower there a god, and my mother priestess. If Holy
Flower tired of this land, and w