find this lad of fifteen years before them, upright, firm,
looking them in the face. It would not be the captain of the "Pilgrim"
who would tremble before the old ship's cook.

A hammock, a kind of "kitanda" covered by an old patched curtain,
discolored, fringed with rags, appeared at the end of the principal
street. An old negro descended. It was the trader, Jose-Antonio Alvez.
Several attendants accompanied him, making strong demonstrations.

Along with Alvez appeared his friend Coimbra, the son of Major Coimbra
of Bihe, and, according to Lieutenant Cameron, the greatest scamp in
the province. He was a dirty creature, his breast was uncovered, his
eyes were bloodshot, his hair was rough and curly, his face yellow;
he was dressed in a ragged shirt and a straw petticoat. He would have
been called a horrible old man in his tattered straw hat. This Coimbra
was the confidant, the tool of Alvez, an organizer of raids, worthy of
commanding the trader's bandits.

As for the trader, he might have looked a little less sordid than his
attendant. He wore the dress of an old Turk the day after a carnival.
He did not furnish a very high specimen of the factory chiefs who
carry on the trade on a large scale.

To Dick Sand's great disappointment, neither Harris nor Negoro
appeared in the crowd that followed Alvez. Must he, then, renounce all
hope of finding them at Kazounde?

Meanwhile, the chief of the caravan, the Arab, Ibn Hamis, shook hands
with Alvez and Coimbra. He received numerous congratulations. Alvez
made a grimace at the fifty per cent. of slaves failing in the general
count, but, on the whole, the affair was very satisfactory. With
what the trader possessed of human merchandise in his pens, he could
satisfy the demands from the interior, and barter slaves for ivory
teeth and those "hannas" of copper, a kind of St. Andrew's cross, in
which form this metal is carried into the center of Africa.

The overseers were also complimented. As for the porters, the trader
gave orders that their salary should be immediately paid them.

Jose-Antonio Alvez and Coimbra spoke a kind of Portuguese mingled
with a native idiom, which a native of Lisbon would scarcely have
understood. Dick Sand could not hear what these merchants were saying.
Were they talking of him and his companions, so treacherously joined
to the persons in the convoy? The young man could not doubt it, when,
at a gesture from the Arab, Ibn Hamis, an overseer, went