It was Hercules, not easily recognized in his magician's , who was speaking thus, and it was Dick Sand whom he was addressing—Dick Sand, still feeble enough, to lean on Cousin Benedict, near whom Dingo was lying.  
Mrs. Weldon, who had consciousness, could only pronounce these words:
 
"You! Dick! You!"
 
The young rose, but already Mrs. Weldon was pressing him in her arms, and was on him.
 
"My friend Dick! my friend Dick!" repeated the little boy. Then, turning to Hercules: "And I," he added, "I did not know you!"
 
"Hey! what a disguise!" replied Hercules, rubbing his breast to the variety of colors that striped it.
 
"You were too ugly!" said little Jack.
 
"Bless me! I was the devil, and the devil is not handsome."
 
"Hercules!" said Mrs. Weldon, holding out her hand to the brave black.
 
"He has delivered you," added Dick Sand, "as he has saved me, though he will not allow it."
 
"Saved! saved! We are not saved yet!" replied Hercules. "And besides, without Mr. Benedict, who came to tell us where you were, Mrs. Weldon, we could not have done anything."
 
In fact, it was Hercules who, five days before, had jumped upon the savant at the moment when, having been led two miles from the factory, the latter was running in pursuit of his precious manticore. Without this incident, neither Dick Sand nor the black would have known Mrs. Weldon's retreat, and Hercules would not have ventured to Kazounde in a magician's dress.
 
While the boat drifted with rapidity in this narrow part of the river, Hercules related what had passed since his flight from the camp on the Coanza; how, without being seen, he had followed the kitanda in which Mrs. Weldon and her son were; how he had found Dingo wounded; how the two had arrived in the neighborhood of Kazounde; how a note from Hercules, carried by the dog, told Dick Sand what had become of Mrs. Weldon; how, after the unexpected arrival of Cousin Benedict, he had vainly tried to make his way into the factory, more carefully guarded than ever; how, at last, he had found this opportunity of snatching the prisoner from that horrible Jose-Antonio Alvez. Now, this opportunity had offered itself that same day. A mgannga, or magician, on his circuit, that magician so impatiently expected, was passing through the forest in which Hercules roamed every night, watching, waiting, ready for anything.
 
To spring upon the magician, him of his baggage, and of his magician's vestments, to fasten him to the foot of a tree with liane knots that the Davenports themselves could not have , to paint his body, taking the sorcerer's for a model, and to act out his character in charming and controlling the rains, had been the work of several hours. Still, the incredible credulity of the natives was necessary for his success.
 
During this , given rapidly by Hercules, nothing concerning
Dick Sand had been mentioned.
"And you, Dick!" asked Mrs. Weldon.
 
"I, Mrs. Weldon!" replied the young man. "I can tell you nothing. My last thought was for you, for Jack! I tried in vain to break the cords that fastened me to the stake. The water rose over my head. I lost consciousness. When I came to myself, I was sheltered in a hole, by the of this bank, and Hercules was on his knees beside me, lavishing his care upon me."
 
"Well! that is because I am a physician," replied Hercules; "a diviner, a sorcerer, a magician, a fortuneteller!"
 
"Hercules," said Mrs. Weldon, "tell me, how did you save Dick Sand?"
 
"Did I do it, Mrs. Weldon?" replied Hercules; "Might not the current have broken the stake to which our captain was tied, and in the middle of the night, carried him half-dead on this beam, to the place where I received him? Besides, in the darkness, there was no difficulty in among the victims that carpeted the ditch, waiting for the bursting of the dam, diving under water, and, with a little strength, pulling up our captain and the stake to which these scoundrels had bound him! There was nothing very extraordinary in all that! The first-comer could have done as much. Mr. Benedict himself, or even Dingo! In fact, might it not have been Dingo?"
 
A was heard; and Jack, taking hold of the dog's large head, gave him several little friendly taps.
 
"Dingo," he asked, "did you save our friend Dick?"
 
At the same time he turned the dog's head from right to left.
 
"He says, no, Hercules!" said Jack. "You see that it was not he.
Dingo, did Hercules save our captain?"
The little boy forced Dingo's good head to move up and down, five or six times.
 
"He says, yes, Hercules! he says, yes!" cried little Jack. "You see then that it was you!"
 
"Friend Dingo," replied Hercules, the dog, "that is wrong.
You promised me not to betray me."
Yes, it was indeed Hercules, who had risked his life to save Dick Sand. But he had done it, and his would not allow him to agree to the fact. Besides, he thought it a very simple thing, and he repeated that any one of his companions would have done the same under the circumstances.
 
This led Mrs. Weldon to speak of old Tom, of his son, of Acteon and
Bat, his unfortunate companions.
They had started for the lake region. Hercules had seen them pass with the of slaves. He had followed them, but no opportunity to communicate with them had presented itself. They were gone! they were lost!
 
Hercules had been laughing , but now he shed tears which he did not try to restrain.
 
"Do not cry, my friend," Mrs. Weldon said to him. "God may be merciful, and allow us to meet them again."
 
In a few words she informed Dick Sand of all that had happened during her stay in Alvez's factory.
 
"Perhaps," she added, "it would have been better to have remained at
Kazounde."
"What a fool I was!" cried Hercules.
 
"No, Hercules, no!" said Dick Sand. "These would have found means to draw Mr. Weldon into some new trap. Let us flee together, and without delay. We shall reach the coast before Negoro can return to Mossamedes. There, the authorities will give us aid and protection; and when Alvez comes to take his one hundred thousand dollars—"
 
"A hundred thousand blows on the old scoundrel's !" cried
Hercules; "and I will undertake to keep the count."
However, here was a new complication, although it was very evident that Mrs. Weldon would not dream of returning to Kazounde. The point now was to anticipate Negoro. All Dick Sand's projects must tend toward that end.
 
Dick Sand was now putting in practise the plan which he had long , of gaining the coast by the current of a river or a stream. Now, the watercourse was there; its direction was , and it was possible that it emptied into the Zaire. In that case, instead of reaching St. Paul de Loanda, it would be at the mouth of the great river that Mrs. Weldon and her companions would arrive. This was not important, because help would not fail them in the colonies of Lower Guinea.
 
Having to the current of this river, Dick Sand's first idea was to on one of the herbaceous rafts, a kind of floating (of which Cameron has often spoken), which drifts in large numbers on the surface of African rivers.
 
But Hercules, while roaming at night on the bank, had been fortunate enough to find a drifting boat. Dick Sand could not hope for anything better, and chance had served him . In fact, it was not one of those narrow boats which the natives generally use.
 
The perogue found by Hercules was one of those whose length exceeds thirty feet, and the width four—and they are carried rapidly on the waters of the great lakes by the aid of numerous paddles. Mrs. Weldon and her companions could install themselves comfortably in it, and it was sufficient to keep it in the stream by means of an to descend the current of the river.
 
At first, Dick Sand, wishing to pass unseen, had formed a project to travel only at night. But to drift twelve hours out of the twenty-four, was to double the length of a journey which might be quite long. Happily, Dick Sand had taken a fancy to cover the perogue with a roof of long grasses, sustained on a rod, which projected and aft. This, when on the water, concealed even the long oar. One would have said that it was a pile ............