ere, hands in his
breeches pockets. He had taken an enormous risk in acting as he had
done, but he felt that it was the surest way to regain his liberty. He
argued with much justice that dressed in the clothes of the half-caste
he would be taken for that ruffian, while the darkness would hide all
deficiencies. As to the voice, he could simulate that. He could speak
gruffly, as if the night air affected his throat, while he had
sufficient command of the language now to carry the plan out fully. And
so far it had succeeded.

"Which means that my escape will probably not be discovered till
to-morrow morning. Perhaps not even then. That will give me a start,
and with a little luck I shall be able to get well away. Now for food
and ammunition."

He dived into James Langdon's hut again, and searched for the articles
which he required. Some minutes later he reappeared, and having
ascertained that the coast was clear, he strode down the wide street of
Kumasi, his eyes peering in all directions in search of an enemy. He
had arrived at a point only a little distance removed from the opposite
end of the town, when a sound suddenly startled him. It was the voice
of a man in agony--a deep, heart-rending groan, which brought him to an
abrupt halt, and set him listening to its repetition.

"One of the poor beggars whom these ruffians tied up in the forest to
die," he said to himself. "If I could I'd help him. But how can I
manage such a thing? I'd not leave this place without trying to rescue
the other Europeans if I thought that possible. But it's not. They are
scattered, and the attempt would be fatal. My word! what cruelty!"

The groan came to his ears again, and after it a second, deeper in tone,
as though forced from the lips of the wretch who uttered it by the
utmost depths of misery and pain. It was horrible! If Dick's blood had
stirred at the sight of the cruelties perpetrated by the executioners,
it boiled now at the thought of those two unhappy natives, captives of
the Ashantis, who had been tied up in the forest, their cheeks
perforated with the knives to hold down the tongue so that they could
not talk, and left there to moan and die soon if the fates were to be
kind to Kumasi and its King, and to the unfortunate victims also, or to
live on in abject suffering for many days, till thirst and starvation
brought unconsciousness.

"I'll go to them," he said, after a minute's thought. "I can't leave
th