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I heard the master of ceremonies command them to prostrate themselves before

the emperor, and the sounds as they went upon their knees before him, touching

their foreheads to the floor. Then came the official's voice again, in sharp and

peremptory command.

Down, slave!" he cried. "Make obeisance to your sovereign!"

I looked up, attracted by the tone of the man's voice, to see a single, straight, slim

figure standing erect in the center of the line of prostrate girls, her arms folded

across her breast and little chin in the air. Her back was toward me--I could not

see her face, though I should like to see the countenance of this savage young

lioness, standing there defiant among that herd of terrified sheep.

Down! Down!" shouted the master of ceremonies, taking a step toward her and

half drawing his sword.

My blood boiled. To stand there, inactive, while a negro struck down that brave

girl of my own race! Instinctively I took a forward step to place myself in the

man's path. But at the same instant Menelek raised his hand in a gesture that

halted the officer. The emperor seemed interested, but in no way angered at the

girl's attitude.

"Let us inquire," he said in a smooth, pleasant voice, "why this young woman

refuses to do homage to her sovereign," and he put the question himself directly

to her.

She answered him in Abyssinian, but brokenly and with an accent that betrayed

how recently she had acquired her slight knowledge of the tongue.

I go on my knees to no one," she said. "I have no sovereign. I myself am

sovereign in my own country."

Menelek, at her words, leaned back in his throne and laughed uproariously.

Following his example, which seemed always the correct procedure, the

assembled guests vied with one another in an effort to laugh more noisily than

the emperor.

The girl but tilted her chin a bit higher in the air--even her back proclaimed her

utter contempt for her captors. Finally Menelek restored quiet by the simple

expedient of a frown, whereupon each loyal guest exchanged his mirthful mien for

an emulative scowl.

And who," asked Menelek, "are you, and by what name is your country called?"

The Lost Continent