Threatened Death Averted—Buried Alive—End of the Tyrant Queen—Revolt Crushed and Radama the Second Crowned.  
One morning, shortly after sunrise, Mark was awakened by the entrance of their jailor. By that time he had grown so accustomed to clanking chains, shooting bolts, and such-like sounds, that he looked up sleepily and without much interest, but a thrill or qualm passed through him when he observed that the jailor was followed by Hater of Lies with his silver spear.
 
Still more were he and his awakened comrades horrified when the names of Ravoninohitriniony and Voalavo were sternly called out. Both men promptly stood up.
 
“At last!” said the former, quietly, and without a trace of excitement. “Well, I am glad, for it is the Lord’s will. Farewell, my friends,” he added, looking back as he was led away, “we shall all meet again in great joy—farewell!”
 
Evidently Voalavo did not take things so quietly. His lips were firmly compressed, his face was deeply flushed, and his brows were sternly contracted, as they led him out. But for his chains the chief would certainly have given his jailors some trouble.
 
The whole thing passed so quickly that it seemed to those left behind like a dream when they found themselves alone. Ebony sat down, put his face on his knees, and fairly burst into tears.
 
“Oh! Lord,” he sobbed, “send ’em quick for me, an’ let’s hab it ober!”
 
It seemed as if the poor fellow’s prayer was about to be answered, for again the door opened, and the Secretary entered.
 
“Be not afraid,” he said, observing their alarm, “I come not to summon you to death, but to ask you, doctor, to come and see the Queen—she is ill.”
 
“Oh! massa, pison her! Do, massa! Nobody would call it murder,” said the negro, with fervent entreaty.
 
Paying no attention to this advice, Mark followed the Secretary, and the bolts were again drawn on his friends.
 
He found Ranavalona suffering severely. Indeed, for some time previous to that her health had been failing, and she would gladly have had the advice of her Court Physician, but seemed to be ashamed to send for him after the way she had caused him to be treated. There is this to be said for her, that she would probably have liberated him long ago, but for the advice of her minister, Rainiharo, who was jealous of the young Englishman’s growing popularity as well as a hater of his religion.
 
After prescribing for the Queen and affording her some relief, he gave orders that she should be kept very quiet; that no noise was to be permitted in or near the palace. Then he left her apartments with the Secretary.
 
As they traversed one of the corridors, the latter told Mark that the order had been given for the execution of Ravonino and Voalavo.
 
“Was that order given by the Queen?” demanded Mark, flushing with indignation, while a gush of anxiety almost choked him.
 
“No, it was given by Rainiharo, who takes advantage of his position and the Queen’s illness.”
 
Just then a step was heard at the further end of the passage, and Hater of Lies advanced towards them with his badge of office, the silver spear, in his hand.
 
Like a flash of light an idea entered the young Englishman’s head! He had no time to think or plan—only to act. In the same moment, however, he offered up a silent prayer for help.
 
As the officer was about to pass, Mark snatched the spear from his hand and brought the handle of it down on its owner’s crown with such good-will that the Hater of Lies was laid flat upon the floor!
 
Thunder-struck, the Secretary gazed at his young companion. “You are ruined now!” he said.
 
“True, and you must be ruined along with me! Here, take the spear and act the part of the Hater of Lies.”
 
For a moment the Secretary hesitated—then, as if suddenly making up his mind, he said—
 
“Come, I am with you heart and soul!”
 
“Lead to the place of execution—quick,” cried Mark.
 
“We will take the prison in passing,” said his companion, grasping the spear and hastening onward.
 
The prison was soon reached. The guards were a little surprised at the change of the bearer, but no one dared to think of opposing the passage of the well-known and awful emblem of office!
 
“Come, Hockins, Ebony, Laihova, follow us,” cried Mark, springing in.
 
He did not wait to explain. The Secretary, acting his part well, stalked with grand solemnity down the streets towards the western gate of the city. His four friends followed. Every one made way. Hockins and the negro, not knowing what they might be called on to do, took the first opportunity that presented, each to seize and carry off a garden-stake, as a substitute for cudgel or quarter-staff.
 
The guards, as before, let them pass without question. Once outside the town they quickened their pace, and finally ran.
 
“We may be too late!” gasped Mark.
 
“It may be so—but we have not far to go.” As he spoke they distinguished sounds as of men engaged in a struggle. On turning a point of rock they came in sight of a party of twelve soldiers. They were struggling fiercely with one man, whom they tried to bind. But the man seemed to possess the power of Samson.
 
“It’s Voalavo,” cried Hockins, and rushed to the rescue.
 
“Das so,” cried the negro, following suit with blazing eyes.
 
Snatching the silver spear from the Secretary, Mark sprang forward like a wild-cat, and, sweeping it right and left, brought down two of the men. His comrades overturned two others whose muskets they seized, while Voalavo, with the power of a giant, hurled two others from him as if they had been boys. He did not stop to speak, but to the surprise of his rescuers, ran straight into a neighbouring coppice, and disappeared.
 
For one moment the remaining soldiers lowered their bayonets as if to charge, but the Secretary, grasping the Hater of Lies, said, in a commanding tone—
 
“What means this haste? Ye shall answer to the Queen for what you have done! Go! Return to your quarters. You are under arrest. Carry your comrades with you!”
 
Cowed by this speech, for they all knew the Secretary to be a man of position and power in the palace, the soldiers humbly picked up their fallen comrades and retired. The victors immediately ran into the coppice in search of Voalavo, whom they found on his knees, digging up the earth with both hands as if for very life! Just as they came up he had uncovered the face of Ravonino, who had been buried alive, and was already as pale as if he were dead.
 
“Have they killed him?” gasped Laihova, as he dropped on his knees with the others, and began to dig.
 
“No—they do not kill when the sentence is to bury alive,” said the Secretary, “but no doubt he is half-suffocated.”
 
The grave was very shallow—not more than a foot deep, and a living man might without much difficulty have struggled out of it, but the poor man had been bound to a long pole, which was buried along with him, so that he could not move. They soon got him out, and were about to cast him loose when there arose a cry in the city which quickly increased to a mighty roar.
 
“They have found out our trick,” said the Secretary. “Nothing can save us now but flight. Come—take him up. This way!”
 
In a moment Hockins and Ebony had the ends of the pole on their shoulders, and bore their still unconscious friend after the Secretary. The noise and shouting in the town increased, and it soon became evident that they were pursued, being led, no doubt, by the soldiers who had been so roughly handled.
 
“This way,” cried their guide, turning sharp into a by-path which led them into a small garden, “a friend—a Christian—dwells here.”
 
The friend turned out to be an old woman who was rather deaf, but she heard enough to understand the situation.
 
“Here!” she said, tottering into a back-yard, in which was a quantity of straw and rubbish. “Go down there.”
 
She pointed to a hole. It was the mouth of a rice-hole. Down went the Secretary, without a word, and turned to receive the end of the pole which Hockins passed carefully in. The rest followed. The old woman put on the cover and threw over it some of the rubbish.
 
Being pitch dark, the nature of the place could not be distinguished by the fugitives, but they could hear the shouting of the soldiers who searched the house for them. They could also hear the angry queries that were put to the owner of the place, and they could perceive that the old woman had miraculously become dumb as well as stone deaf!
 
Soon the quietness overhead led them to hope that the soldiers had left. In a short time the cover of the rice-hole was removed, and the old woman, putting her head down, informed them that all was safe, at least in the meantime.
 
They now unfastened Ravonino from the pole, and found, to their great joy, that he was yet alive, though considerably shaken. A little rice-soup, however, and a night’s rest, put him all right again.
 
In that hole, carefully tended by the deaf old woman, these six were compelled to secrete themselves for a week, during which time the soldiers were scouring the country in all directions in search of them. They had to keep so close, and to be so careful, that they did not even dare to let the old woman go near the neighbours to inquire what was going on in the town, though naturally they were very anxious on that point.
 
At the end of that week, while the fugitives were taking a breath of fresh air in the yard, they were surprised by hearing the tramp of approaching soldiers. To dive into their hiding-place and be covered over by the old woman was the work of a few seconds. Anxiously they listened while the renewed search was going on. The sounds sometimes showed that the searchers were retiring from the yard, at other times drawing near to it. At last a step was heard on the rubbish heap above them; then a blow resounded on their covering, as if with the butt-end of a musket. This was follow............