thy
kingdom, O Great Chief," Kona assured him. "No effort shall be spared by
thy servant in executing thy commands. I go forth again, and sleep shall
not close my eyes until the men of Samory have been overtaken."

With these words he made deep obeisance to the newly-enthroned sovereign,
and lifting his long native spear, which he still retained, he swore
vengeance most terrible upon the enemies of Mo, who had, with such
consummate strategic skill, entered and attacked the city at the moment
when it remained undefended.

"There is some deep mystery underlying this, Scars," Omar said, when Kona
had stalked away into the darkness, and Goliba had risen and crossed the
moon-lit court in response to a message delivered by a black slave. "I am
scarcely surprised at Kona's failure to capture the Naya; indeed,
personally, I should only be too happy to know that she had got safely
beyond the limits of Mo. But the sudden attack and rapid disappearance of
this marauding band of Samory proves two things; first that our country,
long thought impregnable, may be invaded, and secondly that through
Kouaga Samory is in possession of certain of our secrets."

"What secrets?" I asked.

"Secrets upon the preservation of which the welfare and safety of my
country depend," he answered mysteriously. Then, with a sudden air of
dejection, he added: "But there, what matters after all, now that Liola
is dead and my life is desolate? At the very moment when the greatest
honour has been bestowed upon me and I am enthroned Naba, the saviour of
my people, the greatest sorrow has also fallen upon me."

After a moment's silence he started up in sudden desperation, crying:
"Slave have I been to evil all the days of my life! I have toiled and
earned nothing; I have sown in care and reaped not in merriment; I have
poisoned the comfort of others, but no blessing hath fallen into my own
lap. Blasted are the paths whereon I trod; my past actions are ravenous
vultures gnawing on my vitals, and the sharpened claws of malicious
spirits await my arrival among the regions of the accursed."

"Yes," I observed with a sigh, for the remembrance of that bright,
beautiful face was to me likewise one of ineffable sadness. "Yes," I
said, "Fate has indeed been unkind. What she has bestowed with one hand,
she has taken away with the other."

Then we were silent. Above the cool plashing music of the fountain could
be heard the distant roar of voices in great rejoici