Slumber was once more stealing over them, when a noise at the door of the hut awakened them. Next moment they started up, for two warriors of the tribe entered with a prisoner between them.
“We caught this man entering our village,” said one of the warriors, fiercely, to the guide; “we would have taken him to our chief, but he says that you are his friend—yet I think he lies.”
“He speaks the truth,” returned Ravonino, calmly. “He is my friend. Doubtless he has good reasons for coming here. Leave him with us, we will guard him till morning.”
The warriors at once released their prisoner and retired, while the man stepping forward into clearer light revealed the handsome countenance of Laihova.
“Sit down, my brother,” said Ravonino to the youth, in tones of unusual tenderness, “and let me know what brings you here so unexpectedly.”
“I come to offer my service,” replied the youth, with a modest air. “You have told me that you go to Antananarivo to rescue Rafaravavy. Your face is known to every one in the town. If you enter it, your death will be certain.”
“But I do not intend to enter it,” said Ravonino; “these my white friends will aid me.”
“The white men may be wise and brave, but they know not how to aid you, I am not so well-known in the town. I will venture into it and will show them where to go and what to do.”
The guide shook his head and was silent for some moments. He seemed uncertain how to act.
“What says Laihova?” asked Mark Breezy at this point, for the conversation having been conducted in the native tongue they as yet understood nothing.