ing towards morning into a dull coma, gradually
breathing his last, without any return of sensibility, at eight in the
morning.

Frank was utterly prostrated with grief, from which he roused himself to
send to the king to ask permission to bury his friend.

The king sent down to say how grieved he was to hear of the white man's
death. He had ordered many of his warriors to attend his funeral. Frank
had a grave dug on a rising spot of ground beyond the marsh. In the
evening a great number of the warriors gathered round the house, and
upon the shoulders of four of them Mr. Goodenough was conveyed to his
last resting place, Frank and the German missionaries following with
a great crowd of warriors. The missionaries read the service over the
grave, and Frank returned heart broken to his house, with Ostik, who
also felt terribly the loss of his master.

Two days later a wooden cross was erected over the grave. Upon this
Frank carved the name of his friend. Hearing a week afterwards that the
king was sending down a messenger to Cape Coast, Frank asked permission
to send Mr. Goodenough's letter by him. The king sent for him.

"I do not wish any more troubles," he said, "or that letters should be
sent to the governor. You are my guest. When the troubles are settled I
will send you down to the coast; but we have many things to write about,
and I do not want more subjects for talk."

Frank showed the letter and read the address, and told the king that it
was only a letter to the man of business of Mr. Goodenough in England,
giving directions for the disposal of his property there.

The king then consented that his messenger should take the letter.

At the end of December, when Frank had been nearly three months at
Coomassie, one of the Germans said to him:

"The king speaks fairly, and seems intent upon his negotiations; but he
is preparing secretly for war. An army is collecting on the Prah. I hear
that twelve thousand men are ordered to assemble there."

"I have noticed," Frank said, "that there have been fewer men about than
usual during the last few days. What will happen to us, do you think?"

The missionary shook his head.

"No one can say," he said. "It all depends upon the king's humor. I
think, however, that he is more likely to keep us as hostages, and to
obtain money for us at the end of the war, than to kill us. If all goes
well with his army we are probably safe; but if the news comes of any
defeat, he ma