The evening was far advanced when already the little party was ready
for bed and already their imaginations had been fired by the tales
that the consular agent had told them of the interior of the wild
Bambara country. As they were saying good night to their hospitable
host and hostess, there was a knock at the door. In response to M.
Desplaines shouted: "Come in," a tall coal-black figure stalked into
the lamp-light. The glow shone warmly on his black skin and lit up
the mighty muscles that played beneath it. The strength of the man
was evidently tremendous. The boys, to their surprise, recognized
him at once, as the rescuer of Frank's opera-glasses. He paid no
attention to Desplaines or his family, but walked straight up to
Frank.

"Hi boss, you go hunt, you go far into land of Bambara," he said,
raising his mighty arm and pointing to the northeast.

Frank nodded.

It was a strange scene. The boys and Ben in their hunting costumes
and stout boots, M. Desplaines, short and inclined to be fat and as
neatly barbered and tailored as if he had just stepped off the
boulevards, Madame Desplaines and her little girls in cool, white
frocks--and in the center of the group--dominating it by his
impressive manner and mighty form--the huge, ebony Krooman.

"In the land of Bambara much game," went on the Krooman.

"So we have heard," replied Frank.

"In the land of Bambara much danger," continued the Krooman, fixing