ner is overbearing, and he
watches us closely, as if fearing we might escape."

"Curiously enough," my friend replied, "I have for some days past had
similar thoughts. If he's playing any double game his life won't be worth
a moment's purchase when once we enter our own land."

"But you had perfect confidence in him," I observed.

"Yes. If my mother trusts him as her chief adviser I have no right to
entertain any suspicion of his fidelity," he said.

"True, but, after all, you are the Prince and heir. Surely he ought to
have followed your desire as to the route we should take."

"The route!" he cried. "Since we left the river we have travelled in
these cross-paths in such an amazing manner that at present I have no
idea where we are."

"The carriers have, or they would not be in such high spirits," I
observed.

"Yes, but the strangest part of the affair is that every man among them
fears to tell us anything. I have secretly questioned most of them as to
Kouaga's motive, and all I can glean is that the fetish-man at Tomboura
gathered them together and, after performing some of the usual rites and
sacrificing to our Crocodile-god Zomara, told them if a word were spoken
to us regarding our route or destination the dread god will meet us in
the forest path and devour all of us. Not one shall survive."

"And you believe this pagan humbug?" I exclaimed, in disgust.

He opened his dark eyes wide, regarding me in astonishment. I had never
before ridiculed his religion.

"The jujus around my neck preserve me from every evil, except those
worked by Zomara. He is the great god whose power only the fetish-man can
withstand. Slaves, princes, kings, all sacrifice to him. If we offend him
death or torture is inevitably our punishment."

"Do you think you've offended him?" I inquired.

"I know not," he sighed with a serious look. "If I have, then nothing can
save me; the fetish-man of Tomboura has worked evil against me."

"Well," I said, "this is my first experience of Africa, but it strikes me
very forcibly that these fetish-men of yours will do anything they are
paid to do. What was there to prevent Kouaga paying that hideous old
demon at Tomboura to utter his horrible incantations and so frighten our
carriers into silence?"

"Zomara is a terrible god. None dare tamper with him, or utter his name
in vain threats," Omar answered.

"Well, whoever he is I still stick to my opinion," I said. "Depend upon
it Kouaga is a