Then, in his turn, he pronounces the name, "Negoro!"
Negoro! It is then by the Portuguese's orders that he acts and treats me differently from my companions in misfortune?
For what fate am I reserved?
May 10th.—To-day passed near two villages in flames. The stubble burns on all sides. Dead bodies are hung from the trees the fire has spared. Population fled.
Fields devastated. The razzie is exercised there. Two hundred murders, perhaps, to obtain a dozen slaves.
Evening has arrived. Halt for the night. Camp made under great trees.
High shrubs forming a thicket on the border of the forest.
Some prisoners fled the night before, after breaking their forks. They have been retaken, and treated with unprecedented cruelty. The soldiers' and overseers' watchfulness is redoubled.
Night has come. Roaring of lions and hyenas, distant snorting of hippopotami. Doubtless some lake or watercourse near.
In spite of my fatigue, I cannot sleep. I think of so many things.
Then, it seems to me that I hear prowling in the high grass. Some animal, perhaps. Would it dare force an entrance into the camp?