very of a party of sixteen
fugitives who were of suspicious character and unable to give account of
themselves.

They had been discovered by the Queen's spies hidden in a rice-house.
When brought before the officer who examined them, they were at first
silent; when pressed, they spoke a little, but nothing of importance
could be gathered from them. At last they seemed to make up their minds
to acknowledge who they were, for one of them stood forth boldly and
said--

"Since you ask us again and again, we will tell you. We are not robbers
or murderers. We are praying people. If this makes us guilty in the
kingdom of the Queen, then, whatsoever she does, we must submit to
suffer. We are ready to die for the name of the Lord Jesus."

"Is this, then," asked the officer, "your final answer, whether for life
or death?"

"It is our final answer, whether for life or for death."

When this was reported to the Queen, all her anger was stirred up again.
She ordered the captives to be chained and sent off at once to
Antananarivo. Two of the band managed to escape that night, but the
other fourteen were safely lodged in prison.

The countenance of Ranavalona was now changed. She took no pleasure in
Mark's collections, and sent no more for the musical seaman. To make
matters worse, there came in, on the following day, a report that some
of her soldiers had captured a large band of fugitives in a distant part
of the country, and were then marching them in chains to the capital.
As this band was at the time approaching, the Queen gave orders to halt
on an eminence that overlooked the path along which they had to travel,
that she might see them.

It was about noon when they drew near-worn, weary, and footsore. The
Queen was so placed among the bushes that she could see the captives
without being herself seen. Her chief officers stood near her. Mark
and his companions had taken up a position much nearer to the forest
path.

First came a band of weary little ones, driven onwards like a flock of
sheep, and apparently too much terrified by what they had undergone to
make much noise, although most of them were weeping. Next came a group
of women. These, like the children, were not bound, but the men, who
walked in rear, were chained together--two and two. Soldiers guarded
them on every side.

"It is profoundly sad!" said Mark, in a deep sorrowful tone. "God help
them!"

"Massa," whispered Ebony, "look dar! Sure I