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"Do you not remember that when he met us at Eastbourne he forbade us to inform Makhana of our intended departure?" he answered. "He had some object in securing our silence and getting us away from England secretly. It now appears more than probable that my mother has dismissed and banished him, and he has gone over to our enemy, Samory, who desires to seize our country."
Then looking him straight in the face, he said with a puzzled expression upon his countenance: "Thou hast altered since thou hast dwelt among the English. Thy face is not that of Omar who left many moons ago with our Naya's trusted servant Makhana." "Yet I am still Omar," he exclaimed, laughing.
"Of what?" cried Omar, starting up. "I know not, O Master. The name of thy servant who awaiteth audience with thee is Makhana, who cometh from beyond the great black water." "Makhana!" we both cried, and Omar ordered that he should be admitted immediately, and without ceremony.
"Only a week before we returned hither one of his expeditions was utterly routed and slaughtered in the Grave of Enemies. Now another has been dispatched! What route has it taken?" "On learning the news I at once reassumed native dress, crossed into our enemy's country and acted as spy," Makhana answered, his fierce-looking eyes glistening in the moonlight.
Perhaps his sable-faced guardian on those occasions told him news of his relatives; perhaps he gave him good advice. Which, I know not. The man, known as Mr. Makhana, was always very pleasant towards me, but never communicative. Yet he made up for that defect by once or twice leaving half-a-sovereign within my ready palm.
Within two days after Makhana had brought news of the coming invasion, the whole of the twenty thousand men, with Omar himself at their head, had marched out of the capital on their way to defend the pass. I had expressed a wish to accompany them, but my friend had requested me to go with the expedition to Samory's capital because, having been there in captivity, I could act as guide.
"We must dispatch an army at once to meet them," Omar said, after a thoughtful pause. "No time should be lost," Makhana urged. "Already they are due at the Hombori, and it will occupy our expedition fully two weeks to reach there. Yet Samory's hordes may be delayed, and if so, we shall be able to hold the pass successfully and sweep them down as they advance.
Fortunately it was frustrated, but my mother deemed it best to send me secretly out of the country, for I am sole heir to the throne, and if the conspirators killed me, our dynasty must end. Therefore Makhana, my mother's secret agent, who purchases our arms and ammunition in England and conducts all trade we have with civilized countries, brought me hither, and I have since been in hiding."
Then, turning to me, he explained that on ascending the throne he had sent a message to Makhana in London ordering him to return at once. A moment later the secret agent of Mo, a tall, sparse figure, attired in shabby European clothes, entered, and, snapping fingers with his master, greeted and congratulated him.
"But Makhana has been bribed by our enemies," exclaimed the big negro, who had been eagerly listening to our conversation, but understanding no word of it save the mention of Makhana's name. Turning to Omar he added: "Makhana will, if he obtains a chance, kill you. Be warned in time against him.
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