all alone in de world, lose fader, moder, broder,
sister, wife, eberyting by slave-trader, who steal dem all away or
murder dem. So Chibanti him say, `What de use of be free?' So him go
to one master, who berry good to hims niggers--gib dem plenty to eat an'
little to do--an' sole hisself to him."

"An' wot did he get for himself?" asked Disco.

"Got ninety yard ob cottin cloth."

"Did he consider himself cheap or dear at that?" inquired Disco.

"Oh, dear--awful dear!"

"What has come of him now?" asked Harold.

"Dunno," answered Antonio. "After him got de cloth, hims master send
him to Quillimane wid cargo ob ivory, an' gib him leave to do leetil
trade on hims own account; so him bought a man, a woman, an' a boy, for
sixty yard ob cottin, an' wid de rest hired slaves for de voyage down,
an' drove a mos' won'erful trade. But long time since me hear ob him.
P'raps hims good master be dead, an' him go wid de rest of de goods an'
chattels to a bad master, who berry soon make him sorry him sole
hisself."

Pushing forward for several days in the manner which we have attempted
to describe, our travellers passed through many varied scenes, which,
however, all bore one mark in common, namely, teeming animal and
vegetable life. Human beings were also found to be exceedingly
numerous, but not so universally distributed as the others, for,
although many villages and hamlets were passed, the inhabitants of which
were all peacefully inclined and busy in their fields, or with their
native cotton, iron, and pottery manufactures, vast expanses of rich
ground were also traversed, which, as far as man was concerned, appeared
to be absolute solitudes.

Entering upon one of these about noon of a remarkably fine day, Harold
could not help remarking on the strange stillness which pervaded the
air. No sound was heard from beast, bird, or insect; no village was
near, no rippling stream murmured, or zephyr stirred the leaves; in
short, it was a scene which, from its solitude and profound silence,
became oppressive.

"W'y, sir," said Disco, whose face was bathed in perspiration, "it do
seem to me as if we'd got to the fag-end of the world altogether. There
ain't nothin' nowhere."

Harold laughed, and said it looked like it. But Disco was wrong. It
was only the hour when animals seem to find a _siesta_ indispensable,
and vegetables as well as air had followed their example. A few minutes
sufficed to prove their mistake, fo