A Narrow Escape and Threatening Clouds.  
Their progress after leaving the spot described in the last chapter was not so rapid as could have been desired by anxious men, for it was absolutely necessary to proceed with extreme caution.
 
Not only were the Queen’s troops out in various directions, but many of her spies had been seen prowling about, like the evil one they served, seeking whom they could devour. Of this the travellers were made aware at the first villages they came to; and as Ravonino had formerly been well-known at the capital, it became necessary for him not only to disguise himself, but to keep as much as possible out of sight.
 
Disguising himself was not very difficult, owing to the fact that when he lived in Antananarivo he had, like his father, worn a bushy beard. This had made him a marked man, for the Malagasy, as a rule, have little beard, and what little they possess is usually pulled out by the roots. Since he became a fugitive the guide had shaved closely. This of itself went a long way to change his appearance; but when, in addition, he had modified the arrangement of his hair, and stained his face of a darker hue, he had made himself almost unrecognisable, even by his best friends. His chief difficulty was with his voice, which had a mellow sweetness in it that resisted modification. However, by keeping silence, or speaking low, he hoped to escape recognition until he should reach the vicinity of the capital, where he had friends who would gladly receive and conceal him, even at the risk of their lives.
 
As to the great object that lay nearest his heart, he hoped to manage that through his friend Laihova, without himself entering the capital.
 
Our travellers soon reached the inhabited part of the country, where, being surrounded by men and women going about, as well as journeying towards the Antananarivo market with provisions, etcetera, they ceased to attract much attention. Of course the Englishmen were subjects of curiosity—sometimes of inquiry,—but as Laihova reported that they were men who had been cast on the southern coast of the island and whom he was guiding to the capital, suspicion was not aroused.
 
Laihova at this point became leader of the party, in order to enable the guide more easily to fall into the background; and he was all the more fitted for the position in that he had acquired a smattering of English from his friend Ravonino, and could both understand much of what was said to him and also make himself pretty well understood by his white friends.
 
This part of the journey was by no means without adventure, sometimes of a kind that filled them with anxiety.
 
One evening they approached a small hamlet, or group of cottages, where they learned, among other things, that two of the Queen’s spies were at that moment in the neighbourhood, searching for two ladies of the Court who had fled because Ranavalona had threatened them with imprisonment.
 
“Are they young?” asked Ravonino, forgetting his caution in his anxiety.
 
“I know not,” replied the man who had informed them of the fact. “I think some one told me they were not young—but I forget.”
 
The guide said no more. He regretted having said so much, for the man glanced at him suspiciously.
 
Affecting an air of unconcern he turned away and bade his comrades follow.
 
“Come,” he said, when out of ear-shot of the man, “we must pass through this village quickly, for we know not in what house the spies may have taken up their quarters.”
 
“But, don’ you tink,” suggested Ebony, “dat we five could wallop any oder five men in de univarse, to say not’ing ob two spies?”
 
A grim smile was all the reply that the guide gave him, as he walked quickly along the path that led out of the hamlet.
 
“I have a friend,” he said to Mark, “who lives in a solitary cottage half-a-mile further on. He is rich, and, I think, a Christian man—but secretly, for fear of the Queen. We will call at his house in passing.”
 
As he spoke, they approached a large house by the roadside, the owner of which, a brown old gentleman, was enjoying himself with his wife and family in front of it.
 
“Is that your friend?” asked Mark.
 
“No; he lives in the house just beyond. We shall see it on clearing this group of trees.”
 
The track which they were following led close past the large house above referred to, necessitating compliance with a custom of the country, which greatly surprised, and not a little amused, the Englishmen.
 
We have spoken of the residence as a house, because it belonged to one owner, but it would be more correct to call it a farm-steading, or a group of buildings. Except among the very poorest people, a Malagasy family has usually two or three houses in its enclosure—frequently more, for young married people often live beside their parents, and some houses are appropriated to slaves, while others are used as kitchens, etcetera, the whole being surrounded by a wall of clay. Where a house is near the public road they have usually a little square platform, called the fijerèna, in an angle of the wall, or at the gate, with steps leading up to it. Here the family sits, when the work of the day is over, to watch—and, doubtless, to criticise—the passers-by; also to do the polite according to Malagasy ideas, for it must be told that these people are very courteous. Even the poorest have a natural dignity and ease of manner about them.
 
As our travellers approached the house they were observed with much interest by the brown old gentleman and his comfortable-looking wife, and his pretty little light-brown daughter, and a very uncomfortable-looking elderly female with her head tied up, who were all squatted on the fijerèna.
 
When within hearing Laihova stopped, and said in the politest tone and manner possible—
 
“Will you allow me to pass, sir?”
 
“Pray proceed, sir,” replied the old gentleman, with a gracious smile.
 
This interchange of civilities was entirely formal, and stood in the place of the Englishman’s opening remarks on the weather, to which a Malagasy would as soon think of referring, in this connection, as he would to the hatching of crocodiles’ eggs.
 
Then followed the conventional inquiry, “How are you? How is it with you?” which politenesses, in a number of variations unknown to Western speech, would have been continued, in ordinary circumstances, until the passers-by were beyond the range of hearing; but the appearance of the Englishmen induced the brown old gentleman on this occasion to beg the travellers to stop and accept his hospitality. This they declined to do, with many expressions of regret, on the ground that their business at the capital was urgent.
 
“It would have gratified me much,” said the old gentleman, “to have entertained you. But you are all well, I hope?”
 
“Yes, we are very well,” answered Laihova; “and how do you feel?”
 
“I feel as well as possible. And is it well with you?”
 
“It is well with us. But it does not seem to be well with the lady,” returned Laihova, glancing at the uncomfortable female with her head tied up.
 
“No, it is not well with her. She has toothache on the north side of her head. Farewell,” said the brown old gentleman, re-squatting on the fijerèna, as the travellers moved on; “may you live,” he shouted after them, when nearly out of ear-shot, “and reach old age.”
 
Great was the amusement of our travellers at all this, especially when Ravonino explained about the toothache. “You must know,” he said, “that almost all the houses in the central provinces of the island are built with their length running north and south, or nearly so, and the people use the points of the compass in describing the position of things. Thus, if they tell a slave to look for a thing in the house, they will say, Look in the north, south, east, or west corner, or side; and they apply this rule to the person also. I once heard the member of a mission from England told by his host that some rice was sticking to his moustache. The missionary wiped the wrong side. ‘No,’ said the host, ‘it is on the southern side of your moustache.’”
 
“Do you know,” said Mark Breezy, “that is not so strange to me as you might suppose; for I was once told by a friend who lived in the Scottish Highlands, that an old woman there actually said to her that she had toothache on the east side of her head!”
 
Further comment on this point was arrested by their coming suddenly in sight of the house where the guide’s friend dwelt.
 
“You had better stay here at the edge of this wood, while I go forward alone,” said the guide; “because although the man is kind, and has always professed to be my friend, I am not quite sure of him. It is well to be cautious. If I wave my hand to you, come up to the house, all will be well. If things don’t seem favourable I will return to you—but keep close; don’t show yourselves needlessly. You see, my friend is an officer of the palace. If friendly he can be very useful to us, if unfriendly he can be dangerous.”
 
“But why run risk by going near him at all?” asked Mark.
 
“We must run risk when life and death are in the balance,” replied the guide, shortly.
 
Concealed by the bushes, the travellers watched their companion as he went up to the house. Before he reached it a man opened the door and stepped out. Suddenly this man seemed to burst into a furious passion. He grasped Ravonino by the throat, almost threw him on his back, and, seizing a stick, began to belabour him violently, while two other men appeared at the door of the house, and, from their inordinate laughter, seemed fully to enjoy the scene.
 
“Hi!” exclaimed Ebony in shrill falsetto, as he jumped up in blazing wrath, intending to rush to the rescue, but Hockins grasped his woolly head and pulled him back.
 
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