234 DICK SANDS, THE BOY CAPTAIN. away in the west I the compass had completely deceived him ; he was satisfied now that the strong cursents had carricd them quite round Cape Horn, and that they had really entered the Atlantic No wonder that quinquinas, caoutchouc, and other South American products, had failed to be scen. This was neither the Bolîvîan pampas nor the plateau of Atacama. They wcre giraffes, not ostriches, that had vanished down the glade ; they wcre éléphants that had trodden down the underwood ; they were hippo- potamuses that wcre lurking by the river ; it was indeed the dreadcd tzetsy that Cousin Bcnedict had so triumphantly discovered ; and, last of ail, it was a lion's roar that had disturbed the silence of the forest. That chain, that knife, those forks, werc unquestionably the instruments of slave- dealers ; and what could those mutilated hands be^ except the relies of their ill-fated victims ? Harris and Negoro must be in a conspiracy ! It was with terrible anguish that Dick gnashed hîs teeth and muttcrcd, — " Ycs, it is too true ; we arc in Africa ! in cquatorîal Africa ! in the land of slavcry ! in the vcry haunt of slave- drivers !'* END OF FIRST PART.
