Along with Alvez appeared his friend Coimbra, the son of Major Coimbra of Bihe, and, according to Lieutenant Cameron, the greatest scamp in the province.  He was a dirty creature, his breast was uncovered, his eyes were bloodshot, his hair was rough and curly, his face yellow; he was dressed in a ragged shirt and a straw petticoat.  He would have been called a horrible old man in his tattered straw hat.  This Coimbra was the confidant, the tool of Alvez, an organizer of raids, worthy of commanding the trader’s bandits.

As for the trader, he might have looked a little less sordid than his attendant.  He wore the dress of an old Turk the day after a carnival.  He did not furnish a very high specimen of the factory chiefs who carry on the trade on a large scale.

To Dick Sand’s great disappointment, neither Harris nor Negoro appeared in the crowd that followed Alvez.  Must he, then, renounce all hope of finding them at Kazounde?

Meanwhile, the chief of the caravan, the Arab, Ibn Hamis, shook hands with Alvez and Coimbra.  He received numerous congratulations.  Alvez made a grimace at the fifty per cent. of slaves failing in the general count, but, on the whole, the affair was very satisfactory.  With what the trader possessed of human merchandise in his pens, he could satisfy the demands from the interior, and barter slaves for ivory teeth and those “hannas” of copper, a kind of St. Andrew’s cross, in which form this metal is carried into the center of Africa.

The overseers were also complimented.  As for the porters, the trader gave orders that their salary should be immediately paid them.

Jose-Antonio Alvez and Coimbra spoke a kind of Portuguese mingled with a native idiom, which a native of Lisbon would scarcely have understood.  Dick Sand could not hear what these merchants were saying.  Were they talking of him and his companions, so treacherously joined to the persons in the convoy?  The young man could not doubt it, when, at a gesture from the Arab, Ibn Hamis, an overseer, went toward the pen where Tom, Austin, Bat and Acteon had been shut up.

Almost immediately the four Americans were led before Alvez.

Dick Sand slowly approached.  He wished to lose nothing of this scene.

Alvez’s face lit up at the sight of these few well-made blacks, to whom rest and more abundant food had promptly restored their natural vigor.  He looked with contempt at old Tom, whose age would affect his value, but the other three would sell high at the next Kazounde sale.

Alvez remembered a few English words which some agents, like the American, Harris, had taught him, and the old monkey thought he would ironically welcome his new slaves.

Tom understood the trader’s words; he at once advanced, and, showing his companions, said: 

“We are free men—­citizens of the United States.”

Alvez certainly understood him; he replied with a good-humored grimace, wagging his head: