“He’s a trump,” said Ebony, with a nod of decision.
“I agree with you,” said Mark; “and I only wish he was a little more communicative about himself. However, we must take him as we find him, and try to win his confidence.”
During the whole of that first day their guide conducted them through such intricate and evidently unfrequented parts of the forest that their advance was comparatively slow and toilsome, but, being young and strong and well-fed, they did not mind that. In fact Mark Breezy enjoyed it, for the wilder and more tangled the scenery was through which they forced their way, the more did it accord with the feelings of romance which filled him, and the thought, too, of being guided through the woods by an outlaw tended rather to increase his satisfaction.
“Are all the roads in your island as bad as these?” he asked, after plumping up to the knees in a quagmire, out of which he scrambled with difficulty.
“No, many of them are worse and some better,” answered the guide; “but I keep away from them, because the Queen’s soldiers and spies are hunting about the land just now.”
“Oho!” thought Mark, “I begin to see; you are a rebel.” Then, aloud, “Your country, then, is governed by a queen?”
“Misgoverned,” returned Ravonino in a tone of bitterness, which, however, he evidently tried to restrain.
Fearing to tread again on forbidden ground, Mark forbore to put questions about the guide’s objections to his queen, but simply asked her name, and if she had reigned long.
“Her name,” said Ravonino, “is Ranavalona. She has reigned for twenty-seven years—twenty-seven long and weary years! I was a little boy when she usurped the throne. Now my sun has reached its meridian, yet she is still there, a blight upon the land. But God knows what is best. He cannot err.”
This was the first reference that Ravonino had made to the Creator, and Mark was about to push his inquiries further, when a confused sound of voices was heard not far in advance of them.