space in front of the divan all eyes were
directed towards us. The glitter and pomp of the merciless slave-raider's
court was dazzling. Before their ruler all men salaamed. His officers
surrounding him, watched every movement of his face, and the four-score
slaves behind him stood mute and motionless, ready to do his bidding at
any instant.

When our feet touched the great carpet spread before him, and we halted,
he raised himself to a sitting posture, fixing his dark, gleaming eyes
upon us. At sight of Omar a sudden frown of displeasure crossed his
features, but an instant later a grim smile of triumph lit his sinister
face.

Apparently he was waiting for us to bow before him, but Omar had
forbidden me to do so.

"And who, pray, art thou, that thou deignest not to bend the knee before
me?" he cried, in anger that his people should witness a slur thus cast
upon his power.

"I am Omar, son of the Naya of Mo," my companion answered, folding his
arms resolutely, and regarding the potentate with supreme disdain.
"Princes do not make obeisance to any but their equals."

"Am I not thine equal, then, thou son of offal?" cried Samory.

"In strength thou art, possibly, but not by birth. In order to protect
thy country against the white men thou hast sought to make palaver with
Prempeh of Ashanti, but I would remind thee that the rulers of Mo have
never besought any aid of their neighbours."

"Thou speakest well, lad," he said thoughtfully. "Thine is a mighty
kingdom, but by peace or war I will rule over it."

"Never, while I live," answered Omar with pride.

"But thou art the last of thy race. If thou diest--what then?"

"If I die, then every man in Mo will seek blood revenge upon thee, and
Zomara will guide them into this, thy land, and arm them with spears of
fire."

"I care nought for thy Naya nor thy pagan Crocodile-god," exclaimed the
Mohammedan chief impatiently. "Bow unto my divan, or of a verity my
slaves shall compel thee."

"I refuse."

"May thine entrails be burned," cried Samory in anger, and raising his
hand he ordered the guards of the divan to cast us both to earth before
him.

They threw us down, and their ruler, rising, placed his foot firmly on
the neck of the heir to the throne of Mo, saying in a loud voice:

"As I hold thee thus within my power, so also will I, ere many moons have
run, hold thy country. Cursed by the Prophet may be thy detested race.
There is neither peace nor friendship,