Little Jack often spoke of his father, whom he had not seen for so long.  He asked to be taken back to him.  He inquired after all, for old Nan, for his friend Hercules, for Bat, for Austin, for Acteon, and for Dingo, that appeared, indeed, to have deserted him.  He wished to see his comrade, Dick Sand, again.  His young imagination was very much affected, and only lived in those remembrances.  To his questions Mrs. Weldon could only reply by pressing him to her heart, while covering him with kisses.  All that she could do was not to cry before him.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weldon had not failed to observe that, if bad treatment had been spared her during the journey from the Coanza, nothing in Alvez’s establishment indicated that there would be any change of conduct in regard to her.  There were in the factory only the slaves in the trader’s service.  All the others, which formed the object of his trade, had been penned up in the barracks of the tchitoka, then sold to the brokers from the interior.

Now, the storehouses of the establishment were overflowing with stuffs and ivory.  The stuffs were intended to be exchanged in the provinces of the center, the ivory to be exported from the principal markets of the continent.

In fact, then, there were few people in the factory.  Mrs. Weldon and Jack occupied a hut apart; Cousin Benedict another.  They did not communicate with the trader’s servants.  They ate together.  The food, consisting of goat’s flesh or mutton, vegetables, tapioca, sorgho, and the fruits of the country, was sufficient.

Halima, a young slave, was especially devoted to Mrs. Weldon’s service.  In her way, and as she could, she even evinced for her a kind of savage, but certainty sincere, affection.

Mrs. Weldon hardly saw Jose-Antonio Alvez, who occupied the principal house of the factory.  She did not see Negoro at all, as he lodged outside; but his absence was quite inexplicable.  This absence continued to astonish her, and make her feel anxious at the same time.

“What does he want?  What is he waiting for?” she asked herself.  “Why has he brought us to Kazounde?”

So had passed the eight days that preceded and followed the arrival of Ibn Hamis’s caravan—­that is, the two days before the funeral ceremonies, and the six days that followed.

In the midst of so many anxieties, Mrs. Weldon could not forget that her husband must be a prey to the most frightful despair, on not seeing either his wife or his son return to San Francisco.  Mr. Weldon could not know that his wife had adopted that fatal idea of taking passage on board the “Pilgrim,” and he would believe that she had embarked on one of the steamers of the Trans-Pacific Company.  Now, these steamers arrived regularly, and neither Mrs. Weldon, nor Jack, nor Cousin Benedict were on them.  Besides, the “Pilgrim” itself was already overdue at Sun Francisco.  As she did not reappear, James W. Weldon must now rank her in the category of ships supposed to be lost, because not heard of.