212 WILD LIFE UNDER THE EQUATOR. 
stream with the utmost precipitation, as if fire and brim- 
stone were after them. 
In the wink of an eye they were out of sight, and 
Querlaouen and I came down from our trees. We had 
not been mistaken. ‘The fellows were Bakalai of the 
Ashankola country. 
It was late in the day, and there was no hope of our 
reaching our fortified camp before dark. We moved to- 
ward it,and at sundown we collected fire-wood, lighted 
three tremendous piles of it, and soon had splendid fires, 
cooked the three plantains each of us had for our dinner, 
and after our meal Malaouen and I had a grand chat. 
Querlaouen is a splendid fellow. I love him dearly, 
and we are sworn friends. I feel that if any one 
should try to injure or kill him I should fight to the 
death for him. He is so brave, he is so kind-hearted, 
such a noble specimen of a savage as we seldom sce! 
I wish I could have only been able to root out of him 
his belief in witchcraft and fetiches. 
Querlaouen then told me his history. 
‘‘Chaillee,” said he, “my father belonged to a clan 
which lived in the Ashankolo Mountains, and in his 
younger days had crossed a large river, called the 
_ Ngouyai.’ He was the chief of a village, and a great 
warrior. In the country where we lived there was 
nothing but fighting and fighting; village was against vil- 
lage, and often brother against brother; not a day passed 
that some one was not killed. You know our mode of 
warfare; we kill any one, old man, woman, or babe—we 
have no mercy. One night my father’s village was at-. 
tacked. We fought and fought, and at last repulsed the 
enemy, who fled in dismay. My father was killed, two 
