CHAPTER II.
ACCOMPLICES.
On the day following that on which Dick Sands and his party had made their last halt in the forest, two men met by appointment at a spot about three miles distant.
The two men were Harris and Negoro, the one lately landed from New Zealand, the other pursuing his wonted occupation of slave-dealer in the province of Angola. They were seated at the foot of an enormous banyan-tree, on the banks of a rushing torrent that streamed between tall borders of papyrus.
After the conversation had turned awhile upon the events of the last few hours, Negoro said abruptly,-
"Couldn't you manage to get that young fifteen-year-old any farther into the interior?"
"No, indeed; it was a hard matter enough to bring him thus far; for the last few days his suspicions have been wide awake."
"But just another hundred miles, you know," continued Negoro, "would have finished the business off well, and those black fellows would have been ours to a dead certainty."
"Don't I tell you, my dear fellow, that it was more than time for me to give them the slip?" replied Harris, shrugging his shoulders. "Only too well I knew that our young friend was longing to put a shot into my body, and that was a sugar-plum I might not be able to digest."
The Portuguese gave a grunt of assent, and Harris went on,-