ally silent, a silence which was unnoticed,
save by the girl. Bones and his friend, however, needed no stimulation.
Lunch was an almost deafening meal, and when the time came for the duc
to leave, the whole party went down to the beach to see him embark.

"Good-bye, old Mug!" roared Bones, as the boat pulled away. "Whoop! hi!
how!"

"You're a noisy devil," said Hamilton, admiringly.

"Vox populi, vox Dei," said Bones.

He had an unexpected visitor that evening, for whilst he was dressing
for dinner, Sanders came into his hut--an unusual happening.

What Sanders had to say may not be related since it was quite
unofficial, but Bones came to dinner that night and behaved with such
decorum and preserved a mien so grave, that Hamilton thought he was ill.

The duc continued his journey down the African Coast and presently came
to a port which was little more than a beach, a jetty, a big white
house, and by far the most imposing end of the Moanda road. In due time,
he arrived by the worst track in the world (he was six days on the
journey) at Moanda itself, and came into the presence of the Governor.

Did the duc but know it, his Excellency had also been prepared for the
young man's mission. The mail had arrived by carrier the day before the
duc put in his appearance, and Pinto Bonaventura had his little piece
all ready to say.

"I will give you all the assistance I possibly can," he said, as they
sat at _dejeuner_, "but, naturally, I cannot guarantee you immunity."

"Immunity?" said the puzzled duc.

Senhor Bonaventura nodded gravely.

"Nothing is more repugnant to me than slavery," he said, "unless it be
the terrible habit of drinking. If I could sweep these evils out of
existence with a wave of my hand, believe me I would do so; but I cannot
perform miracles, and the Government will not give me sufficient troops
to suppress these practices which every one of us hold in abhorrence."

"But," protested the duc, a little alarmed, "since I am going to reform
the M'fusi...."

The Governor choked over his coffee and apologized. He did not laugh,
because long residence in Central Africa had got him out of the habit,
and had taught him a certain amount of self-control in all things except
the consumption of marsala.

"Pray go on," he said, wearing an impassive face.

"It will be to the interests of Portugal, no less than to your
Excellency's interest," said the young man, leaning across the table and
speaking with