As our happy-go-lucky chief was out in what may be termed a larky state of mind, and had nothing particular to do, he accepted the invitation. The meat was slung to bamboo poles, hoisted on the shoulders of his men, and away they went over the plains to pay this visit. Happily the village lay on the way to the capital, so that the guide and his party could still accompany them without losing ground.
The plain over which they passed was a very wide one, seeming to extend to the very base of the distant mountains of the interior, but our travellers were mistaken in their ideas about it. The plain was itself part of the mountain region into which they had already advanced, but by so gradual an ascent that they had scarcely perceived the rise in the land—a deception which was increased somewhat by the frequent descents they had to make when passing over ridges.
On the way Hockins pushed up alongside of Ravonino, who was walking beside Mark.
“Ravvy,” said the seaman, (for to this had he at last curtailed the guide’s name), “where do these fellows fall in wi’ the iron to make their spearheads and other things?”
“In the earth,” answered the guide.
“What! D’ee mean to say that you manufacture your own iron in them parts?”
“Of course we do. Think you that no people can work in iron except the British? We have plenty iron ore of good quality in the island. One of our mountains is so full of ore that we call it the iron mountain. It is named in our language the mountain of Ambohimiangavo.”
“An’ how d’ee work the ore o’ this Am-Ambo-bo-bominable-avo mountain?” asked the sailor.
“We smelt it, of course. We break the lumps of ore into smallish bits and spread them on charcoal, layer and layer about, in a hollow in the ground. This is covered over with a top-dressing of stone and clay. Then we set it on fire and keep the blast going with wooden bellows, till the metal is melted and runs in a mass to the bottom of the hole. This we break into smaller pieces, purify them with more fire, and run them into bars convenient for use. Our bellows,” continued the guide, “are not like yours, with two boards and leather between. The rats would soon make short work with these. They are two cylinders formed from the trunk of a tree, with a piston in each, packed with coarse cloth, and having valves. An old musket-barrel carries the air to the furnace, and, by pumping them time about, the blow is kept going continuously.”
“Why, how do you come to know so much about valves, pistons, cylinders, and such like?” asked Mark.