and Rao Khan very obligingly
carried out his friend Makar's wishes by cooking the wretched Portuguese
in a caldron of boiling oil.

A remarkable thing occurred in the fourth month of Governor Gordon's
rulership at Zaila.

A bronzed Englishman arrived one day with a caravan from the interior.

He was speedily recognized as Captain Waller, and he told a strange
story of his adventures.

Mombagolo, the burman, who, in company with the captain and the Hindoos,
had been taken into slavery by a tribe of Gallas who dwelt far to the
west, had been chosen chief of this tribe on the death of its king,
probably on account of his stature and strength.

His first royal act was to effect the deliverance of Captain Waller by
sending him to the coast. The Hindoos had chosen to remain where they
were. Captain Waller eventually returned to England, and Forbes was
deeply grieved to learn that he would never see Momba again, though it
was some consolation to know that, instead of a slave, he was an African
monarch.

Guy reached England barely in time to see his brother before he died. As
Sir Lucius Chutney was unmarried, Guy succeeded to the titles and
estates.

As a landed proprietor, his duties very plainly lay at home, so he
resigned his commission and settled down on the Hampshire estate.

He spends much of his time in London. He and Sir Arthur Ashby are
members of the same club, and the two baronets invariably dine
together.

"Chutney," Sir Arthur said one day, as he lit his cigar after dinner,
"have you ever felt any desire to leave England and resume an
adventurous life?"

Chutney puffed a moment in silence.

"Sometimes," he said finally. "Sometimes I feel as though I should enjoy
laying aside home comforts, and, gun in hand, enter the trackless
forests once more. Somehow civilization palls on a man after years of
campaigning. Don't you find it so, Ashby?"

"That," replied Sir Arthur, "is just what I was getting at. Generally I
feel a placid contentment with things in general, but once in a while a
sort of fever stirs my blood, and I long to get out and rough it
somewhere. I tell you, a wild life has a certain charm about it that
dies out reluctantly when the fever once gets into a man's blood. Some
day I really believe I'll return to Africa, or some other wild land, for
big game. I should enjoy it."

Chutney grasped his hand.

"When you do, old fellow, I'm with you," he said. But so far they have
not decided on