s, and, in a last
effort, his bloody finger had traced like an epitaph the initials of
his name. Before those two red letters, Dingo must have remained for
many days! He had learned to know them! He could no longer forget
them! Then, returned to the coast, the dog had been picked up by the
captain of the "Waldeck," and finally, on board the "Pilgrim," found
itself again with Negoro. During this time, the bones of the traveler
were whitening in the depths of this lost forest of Central Africa,
and he no longer lived except in the remembrance of his dog.

Yes, such must have been the way the events had happened. As Dick Sand
and Hercules prepared to give a Christian burial to the remains of
Samuel Yernon, Dingo, this time giving a howl of rage, dashed out of
the hut.

Almost at once horrible cries were heard at a short distance.
Evidently a man was struggling with the powerful animal.

Hercules did what Dingo had done. In his turn he sprang out of the
hut, and Dick Sand, Mrs. Weldon, Jack, Benedict, following his steps,
saw him throw himself on a man, who fell to the ground, held at the
neck by the dog's formidable teeth.

It was Negoro.

In going to the mouth of the Zaire, so as to embark for America, this
rascal, leaving his escort behind, had come to the very place where he
had assassinated the traveler who had trusted himself to him.

But there was a reason for it, and all understood it when they
perceived some handfuls of French gold which glittered in a
recently-dug hole at the foot of a tree. So it was evident that after
the murder, and before falling into the hands of the Portuguese,
Negoro had hidden the product of his crime, with the intention of
returning some day to get it. He was going to take possession of this
gold when Dingo scented him and sprang at his throat. The wretch,
surprised, had drawn his cutlass and struck the dog at the moment when
Hercules threw himself on him, crying:

"Ah, villain! I am going to strangle you at last!"

There was nothing more to do. The Portuguese gave no sign of life,
struck, it maybe said, by divine justice, and on the very spot where
the crime had been committed. But the faithful dog had received
a mortal blow, and dragging itself to the hut, it came to die
there--where Samuel Vernon had died.

Hercules buried deep the traveler's remains, and Dingo, lamented by
all, was put in the same grave as its master.

Negoro was no more, but the natives who accompanied h