Accordingly, on returning to their starting-place (by which time it was nearly dark), the demoralised warriors, who had all but given up their king as lost, were set to work by von Schalckenberg's orders to collect wood for a gigantic bonfire. This was soon done, and the fire was kindled; but, much of the wood being green, an immense cloud of smoke was raised, with very little flame, which exactly suited the professor's purpose. When the fire was fairly alight, the troops were re-formed in line as close to the ship as possible, and M'Bongwele and his suite were arranged in position on the deck immediately beneath the pilot-house walls. By this time it was perfectly dark, save for the starlight and the flickering gleam of the bonfire; and the air was stark calm. Gradually and imperceptibly the dense cloud of smoke which hung motionless over the smouldering pile became faintly luminous. The radiance grew stronger and stronger, and presently an immense circular disc of light appeared reflected on the slowly-rising cloud of vapour, in which a host of forms were indistinctly traceable. Another moment and a loud ejaculation of astonishment burst from the savage spectators, for, with another sudden brightening of the luminous disc there appeared the phantom presentment of M'Bongwele's troops drawn up as they had appeared a couple of hours before, when the king had first boarded the _Flying Fish_ So clear and vivid was the representation that it met with instant recognition, amid loud murmurs of amazement from the beholders; the king being quite as strongly moved as any of his subjects. "Do you recognise the vision?" demanded the professor sternly of M'Bongwele. "I do, I do. Those are the spirits of my bravest soldiers," murmured the king. "Truly the Spirits of the Winds have wondrous powers." "You say well," answered von Schalckenberg. "Now, look again and you shall see a few of _our_ warriors." As he spoke the picture became blurred and indistinct, prismatic colours began to come and go upon the curtain of vapour, and suddenly out flashed the image of a wide-stretching sun-lit plain, upon which were drawn up on parade, in illimitable perspective, a countless host of British troops, infantry, cavalry, and artillery, with bayonets, swords, and lance-points gleaming in the sun, with colours uncased, guns limbered up, and all apparently ready and waiting for the order to march. So realistic was the picture that even the baronet and Lethbridge could scarcely repress an exclamation of astonishment, and as for M'Bongwele and his people, they were perfectly breathless with surprise. The picture was allowed to remain clear, brilliant, and distinct for some ten minutes, then the radiant disc rapidly faded until it vanished altogether, and nothing remained but the red glimmer of the smouldering fire. A heavy sigh issued from M'Bongwele's breast, and he rose to his feet. "It is enough," he said. "Let me go home."