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So the legend ends. But there is a funny little sequel. Sam Choon did well with his ‘notions.’ After Mr. Roebelin’s departure, he returned to Davao and opened a promising branch of trade. To secure a permanent footing, he thought it would be judicious to marry a daughter of the chief, and he proposed for the giant beauty whom Roebelin had noticed on landing. The father was astonished and amused, but finally indignant. A Chinaman, however, though thrifty by habit and taste, does not count expense when pleasure or business urge him, and both combined here. The chief wavered, and took counsel of his elders. They also were astonished and indignant; but Sam Choon found means to persuade them. So the young woman received notice that she was to marry the Chinaman next day. Her remarks are not chronicled. But there was much excitement among the bachelors and maidens that evening, and presently a band of stalwart youths entered the hall where Sam Choon sat with the chief – his father-in-law on the morrow. They told the latter gravely that they disapproved of the match. Sam Choon interposed with a statement of the advantages to follow, with equal gravity. Then they threatened to smash every bone in his carcass. So the marriage was broken off, but without ill-feeling on either side.

HYBRID CATTLEYAS AND LAELIAS

To right, in the Vanda House, are many hybrids of Cattleya and Laelia; but we have many more, and it will be convenient to notice them all together in this place. Some have not flowered yet, and therefore have received no name; but even of these it is worth while to give the parentage, seeing that there is no official record of hybridisation as yet. Mr. Rolfe at Kew tries hard to keep pace with the enterprise of enthusiastic amateurs and energetic professionals throughout the world. But comparatively few report to him, and not every one files the Orchid Review. Thus it happens that experiments carried to an issue long ago are continually repeated, in the expectation of producing a novelty. The experimenter indeed loses nothing save the credit he hoped to win. But in the scientific point of view time is wasted and the confusion of names is increased. To contribute in my small way towards an improvement in this state of things I give a list of the Cattleya and Laelia hybrids at Woodlands, long though it be, and uninteresting to the public at large; assured that it will be welcome to those who study this most fascinating subject.

I may take the hybrids as they stand, with no methodical arrangement. L. – C. means the product of a Laelia and a Cattleya, or, somewhat loosely, of a Cattleya and a Laelia. C. × means the product of two Cattleyas; L. × of two Laelias.

L. – C. Ancona (Catt. Harrisoniae × L. purpurata) represents each parent almost equally, taking after Catt. Harrisoniae in colour and size of sepal and petal; in general shape and in the hues of the labellum after L. purpurata.

L. – C. Nysa (L. crispa × Catt. Warcewiczii). – Pale mauve – the petals have a sharp touch of crimson at the tips. Labellum all evenly crimson with a narrow outline of white, gracefully frilled.

L. × Measuresiana.– A natural hybrid, very rare, assumed to be the product of L. elegans × L. purpurata. Rosy mauve. From the tube, very long, the labellum opens squarely, purple, with a clouded throat and dusky yellow ‘eyes.’

L. – C. Arnoldiana (L. purpurata × Catt. labiata). Large, clear mauve. Petals much attenuated at the ends, which gives them a sort of ‘fly-away’ appearance. The fine expanded lip, of carmine crimson, is clouded with a deeper tint round the orange throat.

L. × Claptonensis (L. elegans × L. Dormaniana). – Small, white with a rosy flush. The long shovel lip is brilliantly crimson, fading to a white edge.

L. – C. amanda.– A natural hybrid of which Catt. intermedia is one parent, L. Boothiana perhaps the other. Pale pink. The yellow throat and the bright rosy lip show lines of deep crimson, strongly ‘feathered’ on either side.

L. × Gravesiae (L. crispa superba × L. praestans). – Small, rosy white. The spade-like lip is magenta-crimson, wonderfully smooth and brilliant, with two little yellow ‘eyes’ in the throat.

L. – C. Tiresias (Catt. Bowringiana × L. elegans). – The petals are exactly oval, saving pretty twirls and twists at the edges – soft bright mauve, the narrow sepals paler. The funnel lip does not open wide, but in colour it is like the richest and silkiest crimson velvet, almost maroon at the throat; charmingly frilled and gauffered.

C. × Portia.– Parents doubtful, but evidently Catt. Bowringiana is one of them, Catt. labiata perhaps the other. Sepals and petals lively mauve, the latter darker. The funnel of the lip brightest rose, disc of the softest tenderest crimson imaginable, deepening against the pale yellowish throat.

L. – C. Tresederiana (Catt. Loddigesii × L. crispa superba). – Rather curious than beautiful. The narrow petals and narrower sepals are pallid violet; the labellum has a faintly yellow throat, and the dull purple disc of Catt. crispa; not evenly coloured but in strong lines.

C. × Mantinii nobilior (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. aurea). – Raised by M. Mantin. Delicious is a proper word for it – neat and graceful in shape, rosy-crimson in colour. The lip opens widely, exquisitely veined with gold within. It has a golden tinge on either side the throat, and a margin of deeper crimson. The whole colouring is indescribably soft and tender.

C. × Mantinii inversa represents the same parentage transposed (Catt. aurea × Catt. Bowringiana). – Small like its mother, of brightest deepest rose. The lip, loosely open above, swells to a fine expanse below, of darker tint. Throat golden, charmingly scored with crimson-brown, like aurea. The disc shows an arch of dark crimson on a rosy ground. It will be seen that the influence of Bowringiana strongly predominates.

C. × Chloris (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. maxima) much resembles the above. It is less brilliant, however; the lip does not open so freely, and the arch mentioned, though even darker, is not so effective on a less lively ground.

L. – C. Fire Queen.– Parentage not recorded. I have not seen this flower, nor even an account of it, but it received an Award of Merit, June 6, 1897.

L. – C. Lady Wigan (L. purpurata Russelliana × Catt. Mossiae aurea). – Dainty pink of sepal and petal. From the pale yellow throat issue a number of crimson rays which darken to violet purple in the disc.

C. – L. Parysatis (Catt. Bowringiana × L. pumila). – Rosy pink. The funnel-shaped lip opens handsomely, showing a disc of soft crimson with a white speck at the tip.

L. – C. Robin Measures is assumed to be a natural hybrid of Laelia xanthina × Catt. Regnieri, a variety of Catt. Schilleriana. Sepals and petals smooth dainty green, the latter just touched with a suspicion of purple at the tips. It has the shovel lip of Schilleriana, a yellow tube and golden throat, from which descends a line of darkest crimson. The ground-colour of the disc is white, but clouded with crimson-lake and closely barred with dark crimson up to the white edge.

L. – C. Bellairensis (Catt. Bowringiana × L. Goldiana). – So curiously like L. autumnalis that a close observer even would take it for that species. In shape, however, it is more graceful than the pink form, and in colour much more pale than atro-rubens.

L. – C. Tiresias superba (Catt. Bowringiana × L. elegans Turneri). – I heard some one exclaim ‘What a study in colour!’ It is indeed, and in form too – not large, but smoothly regular as pencil could draw. The sepals make an exact triangle, delicate rosy purple, netted over with soft lines. Petals broad and short, darker. Lip rather long, white in the throat with a faintest stain of yellow, the disc and edges of the lobes glorious crimson-purple, with a dark cloud above which stretches all up the throat. A gem of beauty indescribable.

C. × Browniae.– Bought as a hybrid of Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. Loddigesii, but it shows no trace of either parent. Very pretty and odd, however. The tiny little sepals are hardly seen, lost behind the huge pink petals. The lip also has pink lobes above a gamboge throat, and a bright crimson-purple disc.

L. – C. Albanensis.– A natural hybrid, doubtless the product of L. grandis × Catt. Warneri. Pale rosy-mauve, lip crimson, deepening as it expands, but fading again towards the margin. A large and grand flower.

L. – C. Aphrodite (Catt. Mendelii × L. purpurata). – Sepals and petals pure white. Labellum deepest crimson with rosy tip.

L. × Sanderae (L. xanthina × L. Dormaniana). – Sepals and petals crimson, lip purplish rose.

C. × Mariottiana (Catt. Eldorado × Catt. gigas). – Very pretty, dark rose, lip bright crimson with yellow throat.

L. × splendens (L. crispa × L. purpurata). – Pink. Lip crimson-purple, edged with white, heavily fringed.

C. × Atalanta (Catt. Leopoldii × Catt. Warcewiczii). – Large and waxy. Sepals and petals rose veined with crimson, lip bright magenta.

L. – C. excellens (Catt. gigas ocullata × L. purpurata Brysiana). – A superb flower, very large, rosy mauve, lip crimson.

L. – C. Amazon (Catt. maxima × L. purpurata). – Sepals and petals softly flushed, lip much darker in tone, veined with crimson.

C. × Prince of Wales (Catt. fimbriata × Catt. Wageneri). – White. The lip amethyst, veined with rose and frilled; throat golden.

C. × Kienastiana (Catt. Luddemanniana × Catt. aurea). – Sepals flushed white, petals warm lilac, the veins paler; magenta lip with shadings of orange and lilac towards the edge and a white margin.

L. – C. Hon. Mrs. Astor (Catt. Gaskelliana × L. xanthina). – Sepals clear yellow, petals white with a sulphur tinge; throat golden yellow veined with purple, disc rose, veined with crimson and edged with lilac.

L. – C. Broomfieldensis (Catt. aurea-chrysotoxa × L. pumila Dayana). – Mauve. The lip deep crimson, gracefully frilled; the throat has crimson and gold markings on a purple ground.

C. × Fowleri (Catt. Leopoldii × Catt. Hardyana). – Rosy lilac, lip crimson. The side lobes are white tipped with crimson.

C. × Miss Measures (Catt. speciosissima × Catt. velutina). – Pretty mauve-pink with darker lines. Golden throat, lip crimson veined with purple.

C. × William Murray (Catt. Mendelii × Catt. Lawrenceana). – Rosy with a purple tinge. Throat veined with orange and purple, lip purple-crimson.

L. – C. C. – G. Roebling (L. purpurata alba × Catt. Gaskelliana). – Sepals and petals flushed, lip deepest violet, suffused with crimson and edged with white.

L. – C. D. S. Brown (Catt. Trianae × L. elegans). – Soft pink, throat yellow with a brownish tinge, lip carmine-crimson.

L. – C. Mardellii fascinator (L. elegans Turneri × Catt. speciosissima). – Mauve. Throat yellow, darkening to orange in front, lip purple-crimson.

L. – C. callistoglossa (L. purpurata × Catt. gigas). – Sepals pale rosy mauve, petals darker. Throat yellow streaked with purple; lip purple.

L. – C. callistoglossa ignescens (Catt. gigas × L. purpurata). – Sepals rosy lilac, petals a deeper shade, lip glowing purple.

L. × Latona (L. purpurata × L. cinnabarina). – Pale orange. Lip whitish at the base, the disc crimson bordered with orange.

L. – C. Decia (L. Perrinii × Catt. aurea). – Pale violet, deepening towards the tips. Lip crimson, streaked with white on the side lobes, with white and rosy purple on the disc.

L. – C. Eudora (Catt. Mendelii × L. purpurata). – Rosy purple. Lip deepest crimson shaded with maroon.

L. – C. Eudora alba (L. purpurata alba × Catt. Mendelii). – Ivory white. Lip crimson with purple shadings.

L. – C. Hippolyta (Catt. Mossiae × L. cinnabarina). – Bright orange with a rosy purplish tinge. The lip red-purple, much frilled.

L. – C. Zephyra (Catt. Mendelii × L. xanthina). – All Nankin yellow except the crimson disc, which has a pale margin.

L. – C. Amesiana (L. crispa × Catt. maxima). – White washed with amethyst. Lip purple-crimson fading towards the margin.

L. – C. Exoniensis (Catt. Mossiae × L. crispa). – White flushed with rosy mauve. Lip purple-crimson.

L. × Yula (L. cinnabarina × L. purpurata). – Scarcely larger than cinnabarina, bright orange, the petals veined and flushed with crimson. The lip of size proportionate – that is, small – shows more of the purpurata influence in its bright crimson disc.

L. × Yula inversa (L. purpurata × L. cinnabarina). – The same parentage but transposed. More than twice as large as the other and spreading, but thin. Sepals of the liveliest orange, petals agreeably tinged with purple. On the long narrow lip this pink shade deepens almost to red. Upon the whole, neither of them is to be commended for its own sake, but the brilliant orange of cinnabarina is retained so perfectly that both will prove valuable for hybridising.

C. × Our Queen (Catt. Mendelii × unknown). – Sepals and petals white, faintly flushed. In the throat, of brightest yellow, are several brown lines. The upper part of the lip is crimson, the disc purple.

L. – C. Empress of India (L. purpurata Brysiana × Catt. Dowiana). – Sepals and petals rose, tinged with violet at the ends, lip large, spreading, of the richest crimson-purple.

L. – C. Leucoglossa (Catt. Loddigesii × L. – C. fausta). – Rose-pink. Lip white, touched with yellow in the throat.

L. – C. Henry Greenwood (L. – C. Schilleriana × Catt. Hardyana). – Sepals and petals cream-coloured, tinged with pink, the latter veined with rosy purple. Lip purple with yellow throat.

L. – C. Canhamiana (Catt. Mossiae × L. purpurata). – White tinged with mauve. Lip crimson-purple, with a narrow white margin, crisped.

L. – C. Pallas superba (L. crispa × Catt. aurea). – Dark rose. Lip purple in the throat, golden in the disc, finely striped with crimson.

C. × Wendlandiana (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. gigas). – Bright soft rose, lip purple-crimson with two yellow ‘eyes’ beneath the tube.

C. × Cecilia (Catt. Lawrenceana × Catt. Trianae). – Sepals and petals deep violet, throat buff changing to violet, disc purple.

C. × Louis Chaton (Catt. Trianae × Catt. Lawrenceana – the same parentage as Cecilia but reversed). – A most successful combination. Fine in shape, petals soft rosy mauve, sepals paler, and superb crimson lip, with the yellow of Trianae strongly expressed in the throat.

C. O’Brieniana.– A natural hybrid of Catt. Loddigesii and Catt. Walkeriana apparently; pale mauve; lip yellow.

L. – C. Miss Lily Measures (L. – C. Arnoldiana × Gottoiana). – Very large. Sepals and petals dark rose; lip rosy purple.

L. – C. velutino-elegans (Catt. velutina × L. elegans). – Sepals and petals white with a yellow tinge, veined with rose. At the throat an orange blotch. Lip darkest crimson with white veins.

I append a list of hybrid seedlings which have not yet flowered and therefore have received no name as yet. It will be useful only to those who practise the fascinating art of Hybridisation. But such are a multitude already, and each year their numbers swell.

Beyond the hybrids are twenty plants of white Cattleya intermedia. The owner of our collection was first among mortals, in Europe at least, to behold that marvel of chaste loveliness. Mr. Sander received a plant of intermedia from Brazil, which the collector labelled ‘white.’ Albino Cattleyas were few then, and Roezl alone perhaps ventured to imagine that every red species had a white sister. So they took little notice of the label at St. Albans. When Mr. Measures paid a visit, it was even shown to him as an example of the reckless statements forwarded by collectors. He, however, in a sporting mood, offered ten guineas, and Mr. Sander gladly accepted, but under a written proviso that he guaranteed nothing at all. And in due time Cattleya intermedia Parthenia appeared, to astonish and delight the universe. Several other albino forms have turned up since, all of which are represented here, but Parthenia remains the finest – snowy white, with a very long lip, which scarcely expands beyond the tube. That is to say, ‘the books’ describe it as snowy white. A careful observer will remark the faintest possible tinge of purple in the throat.

We have also a natural hybrid, Catt. Louryana, which the learned dubiously assign to intermedia alba × bicolor; all white saving the lip, which is mauve-pink with darker lines.

Among other albino rarities here is the charming L. praestans alba, pure as snow but for a plum-coloured edging round the upper portion of the lip.

L. Perrinii alba– stainless throughout. This exquisite variety also appeared for the first time in our collection.

L. Perrinii nivea– not less beautiful assuredly, though it has the imperfection, as an albino, of a pale pink labellum and a yellow throat.

Beyond these rise twenty-five stately plants of Angraecum sesquipedale, which we are learning to call Aeranthus sesquipedalis. There are those who do not value the marvel, though none but the blind surely can fail to admire it. In truth, like other giants, it does not readily lend itself to any useful purpose. I think I could design a wreath of Angraecum sesquipedale which would put jewelled coronets to shame; but for a bouquet or for the dress or for table decoration, it is equally unsuited. Wherefore the ladies give a glance of wonder at its ten-inch ‘tail’ and pass by, calling it, as I have heard with my own ears, a vegetable starfish. At Woodlands happily there are other flowers enough for a ‘regiment of women,’ as John Knox rudely put it, and they do not grudge the room which these noble plants occupy.

A LEGEND OF MADAGASCAR

I must not name the leading personage in this sad story. Though twenty-five years have gone by since he met his fate, there are still those who mourn for him. Could it be supposed that my report would come to the knowledge of two among them, old people dwelling modestly in a small French town, I should not publish it. For they have never heard the truth. Those kindly and thoughtful comrades of Alcide Lebœuf – so to name him – who transmitted the news of his death, described it as an accident. But the French Consul at Tamatave sent a brief statement privately to the late Mr. Cutter, of Great Russell Street, in whose employ Lebœuf was travelling, that he might warn any future collectors.

M. Leon Humblot has told how he and his brother once entertained six guests at Tamatave; within twelve months he alone survived. So deadly is that climate. Alcide Lebœuf was one of the six, but he perished by the hand of man. The poor fellow was half English by blood, and wholly English by education. His father, I believe, stuffed birds and sold ‘curiosities’ at a small shop in the East End. At an early age the boy took to ‘collecting’ as a business. He travelled for Mr. Cutter in various lands, seeking rare birds and insects, and he did his work well, though subject to fits of hard drinking from time to time.

At the shop in Great Russell Street, after a while, he made acquaintance with that admirable collector Crossley, whose stories of Madagascar fired his imagination. Mr. Cutter was loath to send out a man of such unsteady character. The perils of that awful climate were not so well understood, perhaps, twenty-five years ago, but enough was known to make an employer hesitate. Crossley had been shipwrecked on the coast, had lived years with the natives, learned their language, and learned also to adopt their habits while journeying among them. But Lebœuf would not be daunted. A giant in stature – over seven feet, they say – of strength proportionate, not inexperienced in wild travel but never conscious of ache or pain, he mocked at danger. When Crossley refused to take an untried man into the swamps of Madagascar, he vowed he would go alone. That is, indeed, the most fascinating of all lands to an enthusiast even now, when we are assured that the Epyornis, the mammoth of birds, is extinct. At that time there was no good reason to doubt the unanimous assertion of the natives that it still lived. Crossley was so confident that he neglected to buy eggs badly shattered, waiting for perfect specimens. His scruples were ‘bad business’ for Mr. Cutter, as that gentleman lived to see, but they appeared judicious at the time. Fragments of Epyornis egg, slung on cords, were the vessels generally used in some parts for carrying water – are still perhaps. Besides this, endless marvels were reported, some of which have been secured in these days. Briefly, the young man was determined to go, and Mr. Cutter gave him a commission.

Thus Lebœuf made one of M. Humblot’s guests at Tamatave. Another was Mr. Wilson, the only orchid collector there; for M. Humblot did not feel much interest in those plants, I believe, at the time. I have not been able to learn anything about Wilson’s antecedents. His diary, upon which this narrative is framed, was lying about at Tamatave for years; we may conclude, perhaps, that the French Consul did not know to whom it should be forwarded – there was no English Consul. Probably Wilson travelled on his own account; certainly none of the great orchid merchants employed him. He was young and inexperienced; glad to attach himself, no doubt, to a big and self-confident old hand like Lebœuf.

Some weeks or months afterwards we find the pair at a large village called Malela, which lies at the foot of Ambohimiangavo, apparently a well-known mountain. Ellis mentions it, I observe, but only by name, as the richest iron district of the Central Provinces. They had had some trouble on the way. Among the hints and instructions which Crossley furnished, one in especial counselled Lebœuf to abstain from shooting in the neighbourhood of houses. Each tribe, he wrote, holds some living creature sacred – it may be a beast or a bird, a reptile, or even an insect. ‘These must not be hurt within the territory of such tribe; the natives will readily inform you which they are. But, in addition, each village commonly has its sacred creature, and it will be highly dangerous to shoot until you have identified the object. As you do not speak the language you had very much better make it a rule not to shoot anything on cultivated ground.’

This was not a man to heed fantastic warnings, but he learned prudence before they had gone too far into the wilds. At a short distance from Tamatave, in a field of sugar-cane, Lebœuf saw a beautiful bird, new to him, which had a tuft of feathers on each side the beak – so Wilson described it. He followed and secured the prize. The semi-civilised natives with them paid no attention. But when, an hour later, surrounded by the people of the village, he took out his bird to skin, there was a sudden tumult. The women and children ran away screaming, the men rushed for their weapons. But collectors were not unfamiliar beings, if incomprehensible, so near the port. After some anxious moments, the headmen or priests consented to take a heavy fine, and drove them from the spot.

Their arrival at Malela had been announced, of course, and they found an uproarious welcome. All the people of the neighbourhood were assembling for a great feast. While their men built a hut of branches outside the fortifications – for no house was unoccupied – they sat beneath the trees in the central space. Such was the excitement that even white visitors scarcely commanded notice. Chief after chief arrived, sitting crosswise in an ornamented hammock – not lying – his folded arms resting on the bamboo by which it was suspended. A train of spearmen pressed behind him. They marched round the square, displaying their magnificence to the admiration of the crowd, and dismounted at the Prince’s door – if that was his title – leaving their retainers outside. The mob of spearmen there numbered hundreds, the common folk thousands, arrayed in their glossiest and showiest lambas of silk or cotton. No small proportion of them were beating tom-toms; others played on the native flutes and fiddles; all shouted. The row was deafening. But doubtless it was a brilliant spectacle.

One part of the vast square, however, remained empty. Beneath a fine tree stood three posts firmly planted. They were nine or ten feet high, squared and polished, each branching at the top into four limbs; tree trunks, in fact, chosen for the regularity of their growth. In front was a very large stone, unworked, standing several feet above the ground. The travellers were familiar with these objects now. They recognised the curious idols of the country and their altar. On each side of the overshadowing tree barrels were ranged, one on tap, and another waiting its turn. This also they recognised. However savage the inland population, however ignorant of the white man’s arts, all contrived even then to transport puncheons of rum through swamp and jungle for occasions like this. Now and again persons distinguished from the throng by costlier dress and ornaments were escorted to the spot and they drank with ceremonies. Wilson did not like the prospect. His companion had broken loose once before under a similar temptation. But there was no help.

Presently the Chamberlain, so to call him, approached with a number of officers, and invited them to attend the Prince. They found that potentate sitting at the end of a long file of chiefs. The floor of the hall was covered with snowy mats, which set off the beauty of their many-coloured robes. Beside the Prince squatted a pleasant-looking man in pink vest and white lamba. He wore a broad-brimmed hat of silky felt, black, with a band of gold lace, contrasting at every point with the showily-dressed chiefs around. This, they knew, must be the high priest, the Sikidy. The Prince received them courteously, but since their interpreter knew but little French, and less, as it seems, of the language of this tribe, communication was limited to the forms of politeness. Then slaves brought in the feast, setting great iron dishes on the mats all along the row. Simultaneously the band struck up, and women began singing at the top of their voices.

The heat, the smell, the noise, the excitement of the scene were intoxicating without alcohol. But rum flowed literally in buckets, and palm wine several days old, which is even stronger. Wilson ventured to urge caution after a while, and at length Lebœuf tore himself away. Men came and went all the time, so their departure was unnoticed.

They reached the hut of boughs, now finished. Lebœuf threw himself down and slept; relieved of anxiety, Wilson set off to gather orchids. Malela appears to be a fine hunting-ground for collectors, but he only mentions the fact to explain his imprudence in leaving Lebœuf for some hours. The latter woke, found himself quite alone – for all the servants were merry-making, of course – and he also started off collecting. Unfortunately he traversed the village. And some of the chiefs took him in a friendly spirit to the barrel under the tree.

Wilson was returning – happy with a load of new orchids maybe – when he heard a shot, followed by a clamour of young voices. Next instant a swarm of children burst from the forest, and ran screaming across the open ground. Wilson had heard that cry before. His blood chilled. If the men of the other village were furious, how would it be with these drunken savages! He hurried to the spot whence the children had emerged.

As their voices died away he became conscious of shouting – an exultant tone. It was Lebœuf. They met in the outskirts of the wood. At sight of Wilson he bawled —

‘Hi, young un! got any weeds to sell? Give you tuppence for the lot. Pretty flowers – all a-blowing and a-growing! Take ’em to the missus! The ladies loves you chaps. I say, what’ll old Cutter look like when he sees that?’ Lebœuf threw down an animal which he carried on his shoulder, and danced round it, shouting and laughing.

It was a small creature, brownish grey, with enormous ears very human in shape, long skeleton hands, and a bushy tail thicker than a lady’s boa. By that and the ears Wilson recognised the Madagascar sloth, rarest of all animals then in museums, and very rare still. He had no particular reason to suspect that the natives reverenced it, but a beast so eerie in appearance and habits might well be thought sacred.

He implored Lebœuf to leave it and come away; Lebœuf did not even listen. After dancing and roaring till he was tired he picked up the aye-aye and marched on, talking loud.

Thus they did not hear the noise of a multitude approaching. But from the edge of the forest they saw it. Chiefs led the van, stumbling and staggering; among the foremost was that personage in snowy lamba and broad black hat – not pleasant-looking now. A mob of spearmen pressed behind. The clearing was a compact mass of natives, running, wailing, gesticulating – and they still streamed in thousands through the narrow gate. It was like the rush of ants when their nest is disturbed.

The sight paralysed even Lebœuf; Wilson, after an awful glance, ran back and hid. He could hear his comrade’s shouts above the uproar for a moment – then there was a pause, and the interpreter’s voice reached him faintly. Wilson still crept away. He heard only a confused clamour for some minutes, but then a burst of vengeful triumph made the forest ring. It needed no explanation. Lebœuf was overpowered. The noise grew fainter – they were dragging him away – and ceased.

For hours Wilson lay in an agony of fear. That Lebœuf was killed he did not doubt; but how could he himself escape, alone in the forest, ignorant of the roads, many weeks journey from the coast? A more cruel fate would probably be his. It might be hoped that Lebœuf’s tortures had been short.

He did not dare push deeper into the wood; his single chance lay in creeping round the village after dark, and possibly rejoining his servants, if they still lived. If not, he might recover the road at least. But man could not be in more desperate straits.

Remaining thus in the vicinity, towards dusk he heard a whistle far off. The frenzy of his relief is not to be described – it was the rallying signal of the party. But suppose the enemy used this device to ensnare him? It might be! And yet – there was the hope. At worst they would give him a speedy death. He answered. Gradually the searchers drew near. They were his own men, led by the interpreter.