was ready, a silence fell. Then, the deep voice of
Samory was heard, asking the final question:

"Speak, son of a dog," he cried, addressing my unhappy friend. "Wilt thou
tell us where the secret Treasure-house of the Sanoms is situated?"

"No," Omar answered, flashing at his enemy a look of defiance. "I will
not betray my mother's secret to my father's murderer."

"Then use thy powers of persuasion," he said, lifting his hand towards
the executioner. "Unseal his lips, and that quickly."

"Chief of our race, whose praises rise earliest and most frequent in the
presence of Allah, I am ready to obey thee," answered the hideous
functionary. So saying, he took up a long iron instrument, fashioned like
a pair of pincers and thrust it into the burning coals.

"Vain, O persecutor," cried Omar in a loud voice. "Vain are thy tortures
against the will power of the son of the Great White Queen, whose veins
are filled with royal blood. Tremble at thy doom, a myriad of my race are
determined against thee, and thy throne noddeth over thine head. The
fiend of darkness is let loose, and the powers of evil shall prevail."

"Hold thy peace," shouted the Moslem chieftain, enraged. "Thine own blood
shall make satisfaction for those of my race slain by thy warriors when
last we marched upon thy kingdom."

"The curses of Takhar, of Tuirakh, and of Zomara, dreaded by all men, be
upon thee," my companion cried, lifting his voice until it sounded loud
and clear through the vaulted hall, and pointing to the slave-raiding
king whose power no European influence could break. "May the vengeance
of my injured blood fasten upon thy life."

Those around Samory looked aghast as Omar uttered these ominous
predictions in the spirit of prophecy, for they perceived he spoke as he
was moved, and the whole council seemed dismayed. Silence and amazement
for a few moments prevailed. Omar alone appeared unconcerned at his fate.

Quickly, however, the executioner bent over his fire, and as the wretched
victim of the potentate's hatred was dragged to a kind of square iron
frame that lay upon the floor, thrown down, and fastened thereto by his
wrists and ankles, the fiendish-looking hireling took the long pincers,
now red hot, and tore from Omar's shoulder a great piece of flesh.

A piercing scream of agony rent the air, mingled with the triumphant
jeers of the excited councillors, but my friend's teeth were tightly
clenched and his face blanched to the l