rica. He knew from hearsay that the coast of Africa was its
fountain, but he had forgotten the fact, and in the novelty of the scene
before him, it did not at first occur to him that he was actually face
to face with a "live slave-dealer."

"Let me go!" roared the Irishman, as he struggled in the iron grip of
Tim Rokens; and the not less powerful grasp of Glynn Proctor. "Och! let
me go! _Doo_, darlints. I'll only give him wan--jist _wan_! Let me
go, will ye?"

"Not if I can help it," said Glynn, tightening his grasp.

"Wot a cross helephant it is," muttered Rokens, as he thrust his hand
into his comrade's neckcloth and quietly began to choke him as he
dragged him away towards the residence of the trader, who was an amused
as well as surprised spectator of this unexpected ebullition of passion.

At length Phil Briant allowed himself to be forced away from the beach
where the slave-dealer stood with his arms crossed on his breast, and a
sarcastic smile playing on his thin lips. Had that Portuguese
trafficker in human flesh known how quickly Briant could have doubled
the size of his long nose and shut up both his eyes, he would probably
have modified the expression of his countenance; but he didn't know it,
so he looked after the party until they had entered the dwelling of the
trader, and then sauntered up towards the woods, which in this place
came down to within a few yards of the beach.

The settlement was a mere collection of rudely-constructed native huts,
built of bamboos and roofed with a thatch of palm-leaves. In the midst
of it stood a pretty white-painted cottage with green-edged windows and
doors, and a verandah in front. This was the dwelling of the trader;
and alongside of it, under the same roof, was the store, in which were
kept the guns, beads, powder and shot, etcetera, etcetera, which he
exchanged with the natives of the interior for elephants' tusks and
bar-wood, from which latter a beautiful dye is obtained; also ebony,
indiarubber, and other products of the country.

Here the trader entertained Tim Rokens and Phil Briant with stories of
the slave-trade; and here we shall leave them while we follow Glynn and
Ailie, who went off together to ramble along the shore of the calm sea.

They had not gone far when specimens of the strange creatures that dwell
in these lands presented themselves to their astonished gaze. There
were birds innumerable on the shore, on the surface of the ocean, and