errupted. "Until the
present I have been compelled to keep my identity a secret, for truth to
tell, there is a plot against our dynasty, and I fear assassination."

"Your dynasty!" I cried amazed. "Are your people kings and queens?"

"They are," he answered. "I am the last descendant of the great Sanoms of
Mo, the powerful rulers who for a thousand years have held our country
against all its enemies, Mahommedan, Pagan or Christian. I am the Prince
of Mo."

"But where is Mo?" I asked. "I have never heard of it."

"I am not surprised," he said. "No stranger has entered it, or ever will,
for it is unapproachable and well-guarded. One intrepid white man
ventured a year ago to ascend to the grass plateau that forms its
southern boundary, but he was expelled immediately on pain of death. My
country, known to the neighbouring tribes as the Land Beyond the Clouds,
lies many weeks' journey from the sea in the vast region within the bend
of the great Niger river, north of Upper Guinea, and is coterminous with
the states of Gurunsi and Kipirsi on the west, with Yatenga on the
north-west, with Jilgodi, Aribinda, and Libtako on the north, with Gurma
on the east, and with the Nampursi district of Gurunsi on the south."

"The names have no meaning for me," I said. "But the fact that you are an
actual Prince is astounding."

With his hands clasped behind his head, he flung himself back upon the
sand, laughing heartily.

"Well," he said, "I didn't want to parade my royal ancestry, neither do I
want to now. I only tell you in confidence, and in order that you shall
understand why I am compelled to return. During the past ten years there
have been many dissensions among the people, fostered by the enemies of
our country, with a view to depose the reigning dynasty. Three years ago
a dastardly plot was discovered to murder my mother and myself, seize the
palace, and massacre its inmates. Fortunately it was frustrated, but my
mother deemed it best to send me secretly out of the country, for I am
sole heir to the throne, and if the conspirators killed me, our dynasty
must end. Therefore Makhana, my mother's secret agent, who purchases our
arms and ammunition in England and conducts all trade we have with
civilized countries, brought me hither, and I have since been in hiding."

"But Makhana has been bribed by our enemies," exclaimed the big negro,
who had been eagerly listening to our conversation, but understanding no
word of it save