GUEST APPEARS WITH NEWS THAT DEMANDS INSTANT ACTION.

The villagers and their guests were still in the midst of the feast, and
the arrack had not yet begun to stimulate their imaginations, so that
the deeds of their ancestors--which formed the chief subject of
conversation--were still being recounted with some regard to modesty and
truth, when Voalavo said to the assemblage, with a beaming countenance,
that he had a treat in store for them.

"You are all fond of music," he said. "Who does not know that the
Malagasy are good singers? The songs you have already sung have
delighted my ears, and the clapping of your hands has been in the best
of time; but you shall soon have music such as the idols would enjoy, I
have no doubt, when in a merry mood."

The chief uttered the last sentence with an air of good-natured
contempt, for he was what we may style an unbeliever in all gods--not an
uncommon state of mind in men of superior intelligence when they think
seriously of the debasing absurdities of idolatry.

"Now, my friend," he said, turning to John Hockins, with an air and tone
of command, "let them hear the little pipe on which you--you--
tootle-ootle."

Hockins had much ado to keep his gravity as he drew out the flageolet,
and every eye was instantly fixed on him in glaring expectancy.

It need hardly be said that the effect of the sweet instrument was very
powerful, and it is probable that the party of admirers might have taxed
the seaman's powers of performance to the uttermost, if they had not
been suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a tall wild-looking man,
who was evidently in a state of tremendous excitement.

He wore the usual cloth round the loins, and the _lamba_, which was
thrown like a Scottish chieftain's plaid over his left shoulder--but
these garments bore evidence of rough usage and hard travel. The man
was not a stranger, for, as he suddenly stood panting vehemently in the
midst of the party, with his long arms outstretched, Voalavo addressed
him in tones of surprise.

"Razafil!" he exclaimed. "Glad are we to see the Bard of Imarina. Your
coming is well-timed. We are feasting, and singing, and story-telling.
Words from the poet will be welcome."

Notwithstanding the friendly reception thus accorded to the Bard of
Imarina, it was evident that the words were thrown away upon him, for he
continued for some time to glare and pant while perspiration rolled down
his face, and it became clear