actly what to do, and did it. We cannot report what he did, but we
can state the result, which was great relief in a few minutes and a
perfect cure before morning! Most men are grateful under such
circumstances--even the cruel Rainiharo was so.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, affectionately, next day.

A sudden inspiration seized the doctor, "Beg the Queen," he said, "to
let me and my two friends wander round the host all day, and every day,
for a short time, and I will return to report myself each night."

"For what purpose?" asked the Premier, in some surprise.

"To pluck plants and catch butterflies."

"Is the young doctor anxious to renew his childhood?"

"Something of the sort, no doubt. But there is medicine in the plants,
and--and--interest, if nothing else, in the butterflies."

"Medicine in the plants" was a sufficient explanation to the Premier.
What he said to the Queen we know not, but he quickly returned with the
required permission, and Mark went to his couch that night in a state of
what Ebony styled "perfik f'licity."

Behold our trio, then, once more alone in the great forests of
Madagascar--at least almost alone, for the Secretary was with them, for
the double purpose of gaining instruction and seeing that the strangers
did not lose themselves. As they were able to move about twice as fast
as the host, they could wander around, here, there, and everywhere, or
rest at pleasure without fear of being left behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

IN WHICH A HAPPY CHANGE FOR THE BETTER IS DISASTROUSLY INTERRUPTED.

One very sultry forenoon Mark and his party--while out botanising,
entomologising, philosophising, etcetera, not far from but out of sight
of the great procession--came to the brow of a hill and sat down to
rest.

Their appearance had become somewhat curious and brigand-like by that
time, for their original garments having been worn-out were partially
replaced by means of the scissors and needle of John Hockins--at least
in the trousers department. That worthy seaman having, during his
travels, torn his original trousers to shreds from the knee downwards,
had procured some stout canvas in the capital and made for himself
another pair. He was, like most sailors, expert at tailoring, and the
result was so good that Mark and Ebony became envious. The seaman was
obliging. He set to work and made a pair of nether garments for both.
Mark wore his pair stuffed into the legs of a pair