led to pay dear for him. Ah! if I take him again!"

But notwithstanding the searchings that were made inside, and though
the woods were beaten over a large radius, it was impossible to find
any trace of the fugitive.

Mrs. Weldon must resign herself to the loss of her cousin, and Alvez
mourn over his prisoner. As it could not be admitted that the latter
had established communications with the outside, it appeared evident
that chance alone had made him discover the existence of the
mole-hill, and that he had taken flight without thinking any more of
those he left behind than if they had never existed.

Mrs. Weldon was forced to allow that it must be so, but she did
not dream of blaming the poor man, so perfectly unconscious of his
actions.

"The unfortunate! what will become of him?" she asked herself.

It is needless to say that the mole-hill had been closed up the same
day, and with the greatest care, and that the watch was doubled inside
as well as outside the factory.

The monotonous life of the prisoners then continued for Mrs. Weldon
and her child.

Meanwhile, a climatic fact, very rare at that period of the year, was
produced in the province. Persistent rains began about the 19th of
June, though the _masika_ period, that finishes in April, was passed.
In fact, the sky was covered, and continual showers inundated the
territory of Kazounde.

What was only a vexation for Mrs. Weldon, because she must renounce
her walks inside the factory, became a public misfortune for the
natives. The low lands, covered with harvests already ripe, were
entirely submerged. The inhabitants of the province, to whom the crop
suddenly failed, soon found themselves in distress. All the labors
of the season were compromised, and Queen Moini, any more than her
ministers, did not know how to face the catastrophe.

They then had recourse to the magicians, but not to those whose
profession is to heal the sick by their incantations and sorceries, or
who predict success to the natives. There was a public misfortune on
hand, and the best "mganngas," who have the privilege of provoking or
stopping the rains, were prayed to, to conjure away the peril.

Their labor was in vain. It was in vain that they intoned their
monotonous chant, rang their little bells and hand-bells, employed
their most precious amulets, and more particularly, a horn full of mud
and bark, the point of which was terminated by three little horns.
The spirits were ex