iots of
Kazounde!"

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVII.

DRIFTING.

It was Hercules, not easily recognized in his magician's attire, who
was speaking thus, and it was Dick Sand whom he was addressing--Dick
Sand, still feeble enough, to lean on Cousin Benedict, near whom Dingo
was lying.

Mrs. Weldon, who had regained consciousness, could only pronounce
these words:

"You! Dick! You!"

The young novice rose, but already Mrs. Weldon was pressing him in her
arms, and Jack was lavishing caresses on him.

"My friend Dick! my friend Dick!" repeated the little boy. Then,
turning to Hercules: "And I," he added, "I did not know you!"

"Hey! what a disguise!" replied Hercules, rubbing his breast to efface
the variety of colors that striped it.

"You were too ugly!" said little Jack.

"Bless me! I was the devil, and the devil is not handsome."

"Hercules!" said Mrs. Weldon, holding out her hand to the brave black.

"He has delivered you," added Dick Sand, "as he has saved me, though
he will not allow it."

"Saved! saved! We are not saved yet!" replied Hercules. "And besides,
without Mr. Benedict, who came to tell us where you were, Mrs. Weldon,
we could not have done anything."

In fact, it was Hercules who, five days before, had jumped upon the
savant at the moment when, having been led two miles from the factory,
the latter was running in pursuit of his precious manticore. Without
this incident, neither Dick Sand nor the black would have known Mrs.
Weldon's retreat, and Hercules would not have ventured to Kazounde in
a magician's dress.

While the boat drifted with rapidity in this narrow part of the river,
Hercules related what had passed since his flight from the camp on
the Coanza; how, without being seen, he had followed the _kitanda_ in
which Mrs. Weldon and her son were; how he had found Dingo wounded;
how the two had arrived in the neighborhood of Kazounde; how a note
from Hercules, carried by the dog, told Dick Sand what had become of
Mrs. Weldon; how, after the unexpected arrival of Cousin Benedict,
he had vainly tried to make his way into the factory, more carefully
guarded than ever; how, at last, he had found this opportunity of
snatching the prisoner from that horrible Jose-Antonio Alvez. Now,
this opportunity had offered itself that same day. A _mgannga_, or
magician, on his witchcraft circuit, that celebrated magician so
impatiently expected, was passing through t