ld happen to them, for he had his amulet all safe. Jack made
many objections. Dahomey had no charms for him. He thought of the copper
basin, and the terrible heads, with an emotion of sick horror; and,
besides, how could he go so far from his mother?

"Good," said Madou; "you can remain here, and I will go alone."

"And when?"

"To-morrow," answered the negro, resolutely closing his eyes as if he
knew that he would need all the strength that sleep could give him.

The next morning, when Jack passed through the large recitation-room,
he saw Madou busily scrubbing the floor, and concluded that he had
relinquished his project.

The classes were busy for an hour or two, when Moronval appeared. "Where
is Madou?" he asked abruptly. "He has gone to market," answered madame.
Jack, however, said to himself that Madou would not return.

In a little while Moronval came back and asked the same question.
His wife answered, uneasily, that she could not understand the boy's
prolonged absence.

Dinner-time came, but no Madou, no vegetables, and no meat.

"Something must have happened," said Madame Moronval, more indulgent
than her impatient husband, who paced up and down the corridor with his
rod in his hand, while the hungry schoolboys were quite ready to devour
each other. Finally, Madame Moronval sallied forth herself to buy some
provisions; and on her return, burdened with packages, she was greeted
by an enthusiastic shout from the children, who, when the fierceness
of their hunger abated, ventured on surmises as to Madou's whereabouts.
Moronval shrewdly suspected the truth. "How much money did he have?" he
asked.

"Fifteen francs," was his wife's timid answer.

"Fifteen francs! Then it is certain he has run away!"

"But where has he gone?" asked the doctor; "he could hardly reach
Dahomey with that amount."

Moronval scowled fiercely, and went to report to the police, for it was
very essential to him that the child should be found, or, at all events,
prevented from reaching Marseilles. Moronval was in wholesome fear of
Monsieur Bonfils. "The world is so wicked, you know," he said to
his wife; "the boy might make some complaints which would injure the
school." Consequently, in making his report at the police office,
he stated that Madou had carried away a large sum. "But," he added,
assuming an air of indifference, "the money part of the matter is of
very little importance, compared to the dangers that the poor child