He soon learned that his guide was followed by a half dozen or more of
negroes, who had lately visited Sierra Leone on some business of their
own, and who, in common with the guide, belonged to a fierce and warlike
tribe, whose chief village was but a few leagues from Don Leonardo's
factory. At first it was difficult to make out the actual purport of
their scheme, though Charles Bramble could guess what he did not hear,
and was satisfied that the cannibals intended to lead him, apparently in
good faith, to the neighborhood of their village, where he was to be
seized, sacrificed to some deity of these poor ignorant creatures'
manufacture, and afterwards be eaten in council with great ceremony. All
this he could distinctly make out, and certainly it was anything but
agreeable to him. But Charles Bramble knew the race he had to deal with;
he fully understood the fact that one after white man with his wits
about him was equal to cope with a dozen of them at any time, and he
felt prepared.

He gathered at once that it was their intention to guide him safely
until near their own village, where they would seize upon him, and from
that moment make him a prisoner. Meanwhile none but his guide was to be
seen by the traveller, so it was agreed, and he was to receive care and
kind attention until the time appointed. Knowing all this, of course he
was prepared for it, and now saw that for the present and the few coming
days, he need have no alarm, and beyond that he must trust to his ready
wit, personal prowess, and the indomitable courage which was natural to
him. It may seem strange, but reasoning thus, he soon fell to sleep
again in good earnest.

The next morning, he met his guide with frankness, and the best of
feeling seemed to prevail day after day, until suddenly one evening