or at last; "we may excite him by
pressing him. Let him calm himself, and then perhaps he can speak."

I felt as if it was resigning myself to utter despair, and it seemed
that our attempt that night was to be in vain, when Jimmy suddenly
popped up among us once more.

"'Long here," he whispered, and we were about to follow him when our
friend stopped us.

"No; this way," he said, and he pointed in the opposite direction.

"No, no! 'long here way," said Jimmy excitedly. "Much lot black fellow
that way."

"Never mind," I whispered; "let's follow him."

"Jimmy find Mass Joe fader right 'long this way," cried the black. "Not
go 'long other way."

"Where is my father?"

"Big hut over 'cross," said Jimmy.

"Let's get round this way to it then," I whispered. "Come along."

The doctor was already in advance, following our guide, and after
striking the earth a heavy blow with his waddy to get rid of his anger,
Jimmy followed me, not able to understand that we could get to the
opposite point by going round one way as readily as by the other.

It was very slow work and we had to labour hard, holding the bushes and
trees so that they should not fly back upon those who followed us; but
by dint of great care we got round at last to what, as far as I could
judge, was the far side of the village, our principal guide being the
sound of voices which came to us in a dull murmur that increased as we
drew nearer, and at last we found ourselves similarly situated as to
position, being at the back of another large hut.

Here we waited, listening to the buzz of voices, till I wondered in my
impatience what they could be discussing, and longed to ask our guide,
but feared lest I should confuse him, now that perhaps he was about to
do us good service if left alone.

I was glad that I had kept quiet the next minute, for the doctor laid
his hand upon my shoulder and whispered in my ear:

"There is no doubt about it, my lad. We have reached the right spot.
Your father is a prisoner in this very hut, and the savages are
discussing whether they will keep him here or take him away."

"What shall we do?" I whispered back in agony, for it seemed so
terrible to have come all these hundreds of miles to find him, and then
to sit down, as it were, quite helpless, without taking a step to set
him free.

"We can do nothing yet," he replied, "but wait for an opportunity to get
him away."

"Can you not make some plan?" I whispered