The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar Part 6

"Dat's a fact, anyhow," murmured Ebony.

"Who _are_ you, and where do you come from?" asked Mark.

"I am an outlaw, and I come from the forest."

"That's plain-speakin', an' no mistake," said Hockins, with a laugh, "an' deserves as plain a return. We can't say exactly that _we_ are outlaws, but we are out-an'-outers, an' we're going through the forest to--to--Anty-all-alive-O! or some such name--the capital, you know--"

"Antananarivo," suggested the outlaw.

"That's it! That's the name--I couldn't recall," said Mark, quickly.

"We are going there, if we can only find the way."

"I know the way," returned the outlaw, "and my reason for coming here is to offer to show it you."

"Indeed! But how came you to know our intentions, and what makes you take so much interest in us?" asked Mark, with a look of suspicion.

"My reason for being interested in you," returned the stranger, "is a matter with which you have nothing to do. How I came to know your intentions it is easy to explain, for I have followed you from the sea-coast step by step. I saw you escape from the savages, saw you frightened out of the cave by my friends the outlaws, who dwell in it, followed you while you traversed the forest, listened to your conversations, witnessed your exploit with the bull, and observed you when you helped and bandaged the wounded native."

It would be difficult to describe the looks or feelings with which the three friends received this information. Ebony's eyes alone would have taken at least half-an-hour of the pencil to portray.

"But--but--why?" stammered Mark.

"Never mind the why," continued the outlaw, with a pleasant look. "You see that I know all about you--at least since you landed--and I also know that you have been several times in unseen danger, from which I have shielded you. Now, you have arrived at a part of the forest which is swarming with brigands, into whose hands you are sure to fall unless I am with you. I therefore come to offer myself as your guide. Will you have me?"

"It seems to me," returned Mark, with something of scorn in his tone, "that we have no choice, for you have us at your mercy--we cannot refuse. I suppose you are the brigand chief, and are guarding us for some sinister purpose of your own."

"I said not that I was a brigand," returned the stranger, quietly; "I said I was an outlaw. What else I am, and my motives of action, I choose not to tell. You say truly--I have you in my power. That is one reason why I would befriend you, if you will trust me." The outlaw rose up as he spoke.

There was such an air of quiet dignity and evident sincerity in the man that Mark was strongly impressed. Rising promptly, he stretched his hand across the fire, saying, "We will trust you, friend, even though we were _not_ in your power."

The outlaw grasped the youth's hand with a gratified look.

"Now," he added, as he took up his gun, "I will go. In the morning at day-break I will return. Sleep well till then."

With something like a courtly salute, the mysterious stranger left them, and disappeared into the depths of the forest.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE OUTLAW'S FRIENDS. THREATENED DANGER CURIOUSLY AVERTED.

As might be supposed, the unexpected appearance of the outlaw, as well as his sudden departure, tended somewhat to interfere with the sleep which he had wished the travellers at parting, and the night was far advanced before they grew tired of wondering who he could be, speculating as to where he came from, and commenting on his personal appearance. In short, at the close of their discourse, they came to the conclusion which was well embodied in the remark of Ebony, when he said, "It's my opinion, founded on obsarvashun, dat if we was to talk an tink de whole night long we would come no nearer de troot, so I'll turn in."

He did turn in accordingly, and, after exhausting the regions of conjecture, the powers of speculation, and the realms of fancy, Mark and Hockins followed his example.

One consequence of their mental dissipation was that they slept rather beyond the hour of day-break, and the first thing that recalled the two white men to consciousness was the voice of their black comrade exclaiming:--

"Ho! hi! hallo! I smells a smell!"

They lifted their three heads simultaneously and beheld the outlaw sitting calmly beside the fire roasting steaks.

For the first time the mysterious stranger smiled--and it was a peculiarly sweet half-grave sort of attractive smile, as far removed from the fiendish grin of the stage bandit as night is from day.

"I knew you would be hungry, and guessed you would be sleepy," he said, in a deep musical voice, "so I have prepared breakfast. Are you ready?"

"Ready!" repeated Hockins, rising with a mighty yawn, and stretching himself, as was his wont; "I just think we are. Leastwise _I_ am. Good luck to 'ee Mister Outlaw, what have 'ee got there?"

"Beef, marrow-bones, and rice," replied the man. "You may call me Samuel if you like. It was my father's first name, but I'm best known among my friends as Ravoninohitriniony."

"Well, that _is_ a jaw-breaker!" exclaimed Hockins, with a laugh, as they all sat down to breakfast. "Ra-vo--what did 'ee say?"

"Better not try it till arter breakfast," suggested Ebony.

"Couldn't we shorten it a bit?" said Mark, beginning to consult a marrow-bone. "What say you to the first half--Ravonino?"

"As you please," replied the outlaw, who was already too much absorbed with steaks to look up.

"Not a bad notion," said Hockins. "Sam'l Ravonino--I've heerd wuss; anyhow it's better than the entire complication--eh, Ebony?"

"Mush better," a.s.sented the negro; "dere's no use wotsomediver for de hitri--hitri-folderol-ony bit of it. Now, 'Ockins, fair play wid de marrow-bones. Hand me anoder."

"Is it far, Mr Ravonino," asked Mark, "from here to the capital--to Antananarivo?"

"You cleared 'im that time, Doctor!" murmured Hockins, wiping his mouth with a bunch of gra.s.s which he carried as a subst.i.tute for a pocket-handkerchief.

"Yes, it is a long way," said the outlaw; "many days' journey over mountain and plain."

"And are you going to guide us all the way there?"

"No, not all the way. You forget I am an outlaw. It would cost me my life if I were to appear in Antananarivo."

Mark was on the point of asking why, but, remembering the rebuff of the previous night, forbore to put questions relative to his new friend's personal affairs. Indeed he soon found that it was useless to do so, for whenever he approached the subject Ravonino became so abstracted and deaf that no reply could be drawn from him. As if to compensate for this, however, the man was exceedingly communicative in regard to all other subjects, and there was a quiet urbanity in his manner which rendered his conversation exceedingly attractive. Moreover, to the surprise of Mark, this mysterious stranger gave evidence of a considerable amount of education. He also gratified Hockins by his evident delight in the flageolet, and his appreciation of nautical stories and "lingo," while he quite won the heart of Ebony by treating him with the same deference which he accorded to his companions. In short each of our travellers congratulated himself not a little on this pleasant acquisition to the party--the only drawback to their satisfaction being their inability to reconcile the existence of such good qualities with the condition of an outlaw!

"However," remarked Hockins, after a long talk with his comrades on this subject when Ravonino was absent, "it's none of our business what he's bin an' done to other people. What we've got to do with is the way he behaves to _us_, d'ee see?"

"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?"