"Throw your rope over that wicked little beast!" exclaimed Dick Oakwood.
"Okay, Dick," answered Dan. His quivering lariat sailed through the air and the loop settled neatly about the neck of one of the small wild horses in the enclosure, bringing it to the ground.
Quick as a flash, Dick was on its back, much to the delight of the savage tribe who had never witnessed such feats of bravery.
"Tahara, hal!" they cried.
For days there had been great excitement in the land of the Taharans. After the raid of the Arabs and the possibility that the tribe might have to make a return attack to recover the princess, Veena, Dick and his chum, Dan Carter, had been breaking the wild horses and teaching the natives to handle them.
They were apt pupils and one after another were mastering the art of horseback riding.
Now as Dick after a fierce struggle brought the horse down to a gentle gallop, he dismounted and handed the reins to Raal. At that moment Kurt interrupted with a cry. He ran to Dick with terror in his face.
"O Master, look through your magic glasses and see who is coming. Is it a new danger that threatens us?" Then aside he murmured, "Tahara is great. He will protect us!"
Dick beckoned to Kurul to whom he had trusted his binoculars, and the warrior passed over the glasses as if he were glad to get rid of them. The savages were still not certain that these strange eyes were innocent of the spell of black magic.
Dick put them to his eyes and saw a strange figure approaching from the desert. It staggered and fell to the ground, then rose wearily and struggled on.
"It seems to be an old man, bent double with age," said Dick. "He is very weary. Run Kurt, and help him! And you, Kurul, lend a hand. It is good to help the old and feeble."
But suddenly Dan who had taken the glasses, gave a cry. His face grew pale. Turning to Dick he said in a low voice.
"Kulki! It is Kulki!"
"Kulki!" repeated Dick. "It can't be. What has happened?"
The two boys hastened after Kurt and Kurul and had no difficulty in overtaking them, for the savages were afraid and went warily, invoking Tahara to protect them at every step.
Dick was the first to reach the Gorol warrior, who limped and staggered and when he realized that his friends had come to help him he sank to the sand at Dick's feet.
"Master forgive! I could not!" he moaned.
Dick raised the Gorol to his feet but he was trembling so violently that he had to be half carried back to the village where, a word at a time between his pleas for forgiveness, Dick got his story.
Kulki and his two Taharan companions had found the Arab camp. Suli was there and Abdul. And the wicked Cimbula!
"But Veena! Where is Veena?" demanded Raal, his heavy face white with anxiety, His large hands were clenched as he stood menacingly above the Gorol. "Where is Veena and where are the two warriors who went with you?"
"The warriors are dead," replied Kulki.
"But where is Veena?" asked Dick. His voice was stern as he tried to hide the emotion he felt.
"Forgive O Master, I could not bring her back. The Arabs have imprisoned her. They tortured me through long hours, hitting me with heavy thongs and burned me with hot embers, then they sent me home to tell you. I have travelled all day and all night to bring help." The Gorol youth looked at Raal imploringly, then continued, "Veena, the little white princess will not be killed and we have still time to save her if we go at once. That is what Cimbula said to me and he understands the language and the ways of the Arabs."
"What do you mean, Kulki?" demanded Dick anxiously.
"Suli and Abdul protect her, for they are anxious to sell her for a big price."
Cries arose from the listeners, for most of the tribe had gathered to hear what Kulki had to tell. The women shrieked and moaned, rocking themselves back and forth, and tearing their hair.
Dick raised his hand for silence.
"Be quiet my friends," he said calmly. "Kulki says we still have time to save her." Then he turned to the Gorol, "Are you sure? Tell us all you know!"
"Cimbula tell me all they said," went on Kulki. "Suli and Abdul are waiting for the arrival of Chief Mobogoma who wants the white princess for his bride. He is willing to give in exchange a hundred of his best slaves."
"Ah-woe! Ah-woe!" moaned the tribesmen.
"Suli and Abdul agreed to this, but the man-demon who flies on the back of the bird-demon appeared and said that was not enough. He demanded much ivory as well."
"Slythe! That was Jess Slythe!" exclaimed Dick Oakwood with indignation. "I might have known that he was somewhere around and had a hand in my affairs."
"There will be delay while they quarrel with words," continued Kulki with a groan.
A slave appeared with food and drink for the returned warrior. He gulped it hungrily. Dick questioned him further about the Arabs.
A shiver passed over the body of the Gorol, his eyes looked wild. "They tortured me and sent me back to say that Veena would be returned for two hundred Taharan slaves."
"Tahara have mercy! O Master, save us!" moaned the tribesmen. "What are we to do?"
"Send us, O Master," came the cry from many throats. "Let us be sacrificed, but bring back the little princess Veena."
Dick looked at Dan in astonishment. He had not expected to find such a spirit of chivalry among this savage tribe.
"Say, they're pretty good sports, I'll tell the world!" cried Dan. "Who would have believed it? And we want to civilize them! That's a joke!"
Raal was standing impatiently frowning, waiting for Dick to give some word of command.
"What are we going to do, Master?" he asked.
Dick once more raised his hand. "What will we do? Get ready to march! At once! Food and drink must be carried! To work! We will go to that Arab camp, but not as slaves. We will go as warriors to bring back Princess Veena!"
"Tahara, hal! Tahara, hal!"
The cheer echoed through the hills. In a moment the village changed from a quiet, sleepy camp to one bustling with life and excitement. The women scuttled away toward the caves where the slaves were busy with the cooking. They were chattering like magpies among themselves but they were losing no time in carrying out the orders. Vanga's shrill voice carried above the noise.
"Move faster, slaves!" she shrieked. "Out of my way!" And with a resounding slap she boxed the ears of a small child who crossed her path. Food and water was ready to be packed on the back of the horses, when Dick had completed his plans for the march.
Kulki was left behind, he was too weak and tired for the second trip. And Dick could trust him to protect the cave-dwellers in his absence.
"Say Dick, I'm sure glad we got a few good horses out of that Arab raid. At least you and I and Raal will be looked after. What will the others do? Walk?"
"Of course not! What did I have you break in those small wild horses for if it wasn't for just such an occasion? Saddle your horses, men, and get ready!"
The warriors whooped with delight as they ran toward the enclosure where the horses were held. They were pleased at the chance to use their new saddles.
"Say Dick, what would a western cowboy say about these saddles? They make their silver trimmed affairs seem very plain. Look at Raal's saddle, it is covered with golden disks. Some class!"
The warriors shouted and screamed with laughter as they caught the wild horses and bridled them. It was a new game. They liked it.
"Those boys seem to think this is a big picnic they are going on," remarked Dan Carter. "Why don't you tell them it's a serious business?"
"What's the use?" replied Dick. "Let them get what fun they can out of the start. Besides I hope we can settle this without a fight."
"For a king who was going to have nothing but peace in his country, you have certainly managed to put up some pretty stiff scraps," teased Dan.
"Never mind that," replied Dick with a laugh. "I'll get around to that some day. Just now we've got to undo a great wrong."
"Oh, yes! You've got to fight for peace. I see! All right then, come along, I'm with you. But are you sure we'll be able to carry enough food?"
"You can take as much as you can carry on the back of your saddle. Besides it wouldn't hurt you to go hungry for a while," said Dick.
"Oh, is that so!" snapped Dan impatiently. The good-natured Dan was rarely cross and then only for a second. His fact cleared suddenly and he said, "Tough luck! I suppose I'll have to stand it. Come on!"
It was a strange looking army that rode out of the land of the Taharans. Dick, Dan and Raal were riding ahead on their Arab horses and the rest of the tribesmen were mounted on the small wild horses that Dick and Dan had trained to the saddle. Although these animals were small they were almost as fleet as the large horses and could stand the heat of the desert much better.
The Boy King looked back with pride as he saw his warriors riding so well.
"There is no limit to what I may be able to do with these savages. All they need is a good leader," thought Dick as he glanced at Raal whose heavy figure sitting straight and proud, gave an impression of great strength.
For an hour they rode almost in silence, the horses eager and prancing. Then as the ferocious heat of the sun burned into them, the horses slackened their pace. Finally Dan drew close to Dick and whispered: "Isn't it about time for lunch? I'm starved!"
Dick motioned him away impatiently. "Nothing doing, boy! Take a small drink of water and pretend it's food. Our first halt is two hours from here unless we're lucky enough to find an oasis."
"But why take life so seriously?" responded Dan. "These savages spend a long time in bartering; we'll get there before they're through. Besides Slythe will wait to see if you will send the two hundred slaves to buy the princess."
"I'm not sure, Dan. We'd better push along as fast as we can. If Mobogoma offers enough, Slythe won't take any chances on a slip-up."
Before another hour had gone by, the riders were wilted with the heat and famished for food and drink. A green spot in the distance made them urge their horses on toward the grove of palm trees.
"Come on, let's hurry," cried Dan. "We can't get to that spring quick enough to suit me." The boy dug his heels into the horse's sides. The spirits of the men rose at the prospect of a spring of clear water and the shade of the palm trees beckoned them. Dan broke into a college song and the tribesmen took up the air and shouted it at the top of their lungs.
Suddenly Raal spoke in a voice trembling with excitement. "Look O Master, across the desert! Those are the Arab raiders!"
"Where?"
Raal pointed to the horizon, still wavering with heat, and Dick adjusted his binoculars.
At first he saw only a long straggling line of moving objects that resembled a giant centipede with countless legs and undulating back. Finally Dick made out a caravan of camels striding in single file and accompanied by Arab horsemen. They were so far away that Dick could not see them without the glasses, although Raal's sharp eyes had distinguished them.
Dick gasped. "Arabs! You're right, Raal. Maybe they are the ones we are after. Give orders for the warriors to have their weapons ready and be on the alert. Then let's go!"
To encourage the men, Dan once more burst into song. The tired horses caught the spirit and leaped ahead for a few minutes then began to lag. The heat was intense, the sand, catching the sun's rays dazzled the eyes and made them burn.
But no matter how fast they rode, the oasis seemed as far away as ever. The caravan was lost in the shimmering haze.
"Who would have believed that it was so far away?" grumbled Dan Carter. At that moment he caught sight of Dick's face. It was pale and troubled.
"What's the matter, old sport?" Dan asked anxiously. "Are you sick or something? Better take a sip of that precious water in the bag."
"No, I'm all right," answered Dick quietly, "but I'm wondering how I'm going to explain a mirage to these savages."
"A mirage!" exclaimed Dan with a catch in his voice. "So that's why we seemed to be getting farther away from that green spot all the time. But Dick, are you certain? I'd have sworn it was the real thing."
But even as they talked, Dan noticed the thinning haze ahead. It seemed to be rising and soon disappeared into the sky.
"Say, Dick, when did you catch on?" asked Dan.
"About five minutes ago. How am I going to explain it to them? They may never have seen one and may think that it is black magic. See, the caravan has vanished, too."
"Tell them it's Cimbula out there," said Dan with a laugh. "They'll believe that, all right."
While the boys were talking, the haze dissolved completely, leaving a far stretch of sandy waste.
"Ah-woe Tahara!" moaned Raal touching Dick's arm. "Look ahead. The spirit of evil has swallowed up the oasis. It is a warning, O Master. I have seen it many times before."
Dick gave a sigh of relief. At least the mirage was not unknown to the tribesmen.
"A warning, what do you mean, Raal?" asked Dick.
"Thus comes the oasis on the desert at times, leading men to destruction. Warriors depart to take possession of the new land and find themselves without food and drink. They ride around in circles in order to find the green oasis. Then at last the demons gobble them up. Did you not see the caravan disappear? It is a bad omen, so say my people."
Some of the tribesmen shielded their faces against the evil eye while others muttered anxiously. A few turned as if to flee back to their own land but at a sharp command from Dick they followed grumbling.
Dick halted his riders and they ate a hasty lunch while shielding themselves in the shadow of their horses.
Late that afternoon they came to the oasis in the desert. The men threw themselves flat on their stomachs by the spring, dipping up the water in their hands and drinking with loud sucking noises. It was hard for both man and beast to restrain the desire to overdo, for their parched throats seemed never to get enough.
As soon as the quickly prepared meal was over, the men stretched out on the green grass beneath the palms and slept.
Long before daylight the tribesmen were up, making ready for the second day's march toward the jungle. Dick and Dan were weary and sore from the journey but there were no complaints from either of them. They swung into their saddles and taking the lead, raced their horses over the desert, making the most of the cool morning, knowing that as soon as the sun rose the heat would be almost unbearable.
It was late on the third day when they reached the lowlands which lay at the beginning of the jungle. Already the atmosphere had changed. It was oppressive and humid. Directly in front of them was a path leading to the wilderness of trees and overgrowing trailing plants. The stars were just appearing in the sky and Dick ordered his men to make camp, feeling safer to sleep in the open. He put Kurt and Kurul, his most trustworthy warriors, to stand guard. But Dick could not sleep. The sound of jungle life came to him, the sharp cries of night birds, the yelping of wild animals. The Boy King felt the menace of the jungle.
But after hours of listening the sounds seemed to grow fainter as if the wild life were going far, far away. His eyes closed. But just as he might have dropped off to sleep, he was awakened by Dan's hand on his face.
"I don't want to frighten you, Dick, but do you see those two greenish lights at the edge of the trees? Look!"
"They are probably stars," replied Dick sleepily. Dick rubbed his tired eyes and sat up. Dan pointed out the glowing sparks. The boys did not move, for they saw that Kurt and Kurul were aware of the intruder. They stood motionless near a jungle tree.
"It's a leopard, Dick, I'm sure of it," said Dan. "Where's your Arab gun?"
"It's here," replied his chum. "But wait! Kurt and Kurul are on guard. They have a plan. I will not interfere with them."
Slowly the lights grew larger. Two more appeared, and soon two others, and one could see the dim shapes of animals crouching low and wriggling from the tangle of vines and creepers, scarcely making a sound.
Kurt and Kurul stood tense and alert, their bows were drawn back ready at any second to send the flint pointed arrows into the vital spot of their enemy.
Dick watched and thought he understood why his bowmen waked so long. The leopards were making their way toward the wild horses and not toward the sleeping men. The warriors were waiting to get them out in the open where they could see better to shoot. In the light of the stars Dick could see the beasts crawling along the ground. Suddenly the two first gave a spring, but before they could reach their prey, Kurt and Kurul had shot their arrows, catching the beasts between the eyes. Their bodies jumped high in the air, then dropped. The other animals turned and disappeared.
"Oh boy, what a shot!" exclaimed Dan, jumping to his feet and running toward the dead animals, but Kurul held him back.
"Beware, brother," said Kurul, "the leopard has a way of coming alive after he is dead! I've seen it!"
For Dick there was no more sleep that night. It was time to relieve Kurt and Kurul and he did not feel sure that the other men were to be trusted to watch. Dick knew that Rex Carter was depending on him to look after Dan and protect him from danger, and besides that the responsibility of his army weighed on the shoulders of the Boy King of the desert.
Dick sat up and watched toward the jungle. From time to time dark shapes slipped by as if eager to get far away from danger. The sharp call of night birds awakened monkeys that kept up a maddening chatter. The night seemed full of dangers that threatened him. But Dick Oakwood was not displeased.
"Who would have believed it!" he said to himself. "When I left America I had no idea that my experiences would be stranger even than those of Matt Binney, our old African trader. When I get back I'll tell him some thrillers that will make his hair stand on end, the way he used to make mine when I was a kid."
As usual on the march, dawn had not tinted the horizon before the warriors were up and busy preparing breakfast and as the first streaks of rose and purple made fantastic designs in the sky, Dick and Dan led the way into the jungle, following the trail that Kulki had told them would lead to the Arab camp.
In a few minutes steam rose from the horses' sides while perspiration flowed down the faces of the riders. Dan wiped his face with the back of his hand leaving a dusty streak across his cheek. He turned to look at his chum to see how he was standing the strain.
The Boy King looked tired. After a wakeful night, the heat irritated him. And the thought that Cimbula and Slythe had their heads together in a plan to overthrow his rule, did not make him look forward with any assurance of success in the venture to rescue Veena.
Right now his brain was dulled by lack of sleep. The raid with his warriors seemed hopeless and a foolish undertaking. Dick slumped in his saddle for a moment and looked the picture of woe and discouragement.
"How's this for a steam bath!" exclaimed Dan. "Good for your health. Doctor's orders. Oh boy, what a treat!"
Dick smiled at his chum, whose happy-go-lucky nature always brought fun and a laugh into every situation, no matter how tight a jam it might be.
At last Dick sat erect with a jerk. Every moment he was coming nearer to the dreaded spot where his enemies were in wait for his arrival. This was not the time to weaken. Brushing his hand across his damp forehead, the boy took the lead bravely, his head held high. He knew that the odds were all against him, as they had been before, but in his heart he felt sure that he would win.
It was late that afternoon when Dick suddenly drew rein and gave a signal to halt. Some danger menaced them; he felt it without knowing what it was. The jungle trail was just the same as when they entered it that morning. Then why this nameless fear?
He listened intently, but there was only the scolding of monkeys and the answering screech of birds. No human sound was distinguishable.
Giving the order to proceed cautiously, every man ready with bow and arrow, Dick emerged without warning into a clearing. Suddenly his horse reared back with a frightened snort.
Blocking the path ahead of him was a score or more of black warriors, their faces painted in streaks of red and yellow, making them grotesque and frightful. Their bows were drawn and their fiendish grins sent terror to the hearts of the boys. With hideous yells, a band of the savages behind the bowmen started a war-dance.
"I see our finish!" exclaimed Dan. "Give them a taste of your gun, Dick!"
"That wouldn't help. Look at the black horde coming from every direction. They are two against one! We'll try to show them that we are friendly."
"I guess you're right, Dick. But we are certainly in a tight jam this time."
"Keep quiet, Dan!" said Dick, really vexed at the boy.
The apparent lack of fear in Dick evidently gained the respect of the tribe. Their arrows did not fly, the warriors held them, waiting for a command.
Then a command came, loud and clear. It was a surprise to Dick, for it came from a point directly above his head and the voice was not that of an African savage. The hidden chief spoke in the language of the tribe. It was an order; the inflection of the voice told Dick that before the warriors dropped their bows and arrows and bowed low to Dick.
Then the voice again boomed out in broken English, "Advance white men! I will protect you! Mahatma Sikandar speaks!"
"Can you beat it!" exclaimed Dan Carter in astonishment, on hearing the English words spoken among a savage tribe in the jungle.
A chuckle was heard from the tangle of foliage above the heads of the two boys as they drew rein where the jungle path entered a clearing.
"Advance, Dick Sahib! Mahatma Sikandar speaks!"
"Don't go!" whispered Dan. "There's something spooky about this. How does he know your name? Maybe it's a trap. If we go out there in the open they will use us for targets."
"Keep quiet, Dan, I want to speak to the man. Besides they can shoot us here if they have a mind to do it. If there is a trap we're in it right now," Dick answered impatiently.
But Dan could not keep quiet. Before Dick could stop him the boy called out:
"Say, Mister, I bet you don't know what my name is."
A hearty laugh issued from the hiding place of the Mahatma. "Dan Sahib is young. After many lives, he will gain wisdom—perhaps!"
Dan stared above his head in speechless amazement. Here they were miles away from any one they knew, yet this man had called them both by their names and in their own tongue.
"Who is he, anyway?" whispered Dan.
"He must be a Hindu with that name, and I judge also by the sing-song English he uses. But what is he doing here? That's what I want to know."
"Advance friends," once more the Mahatma spoke. "The men of the Kungoras are brave warriors, they will not harm you for I have given them promise that you are my friends."
"Let's go!" said Dick, touching his horse's sides with his heels, sending the animal trotting into the clearing where the savages had ranged themselves in a huge semicircle.
A file of the Taharan and Gorol warriors followed Dick and Dan into the clearing.
There was a tense pause.
It seemed as though a battle might follow at any moment, for the Taharans and Gorols looked upon all strangers as foes and the blacks were dangerous looking fellows. The Kungora tribe was warlike and powerful, which accounted for the slave raiders leaving them alone.
Tall, well formed and athletic, each man was like an ebony statue, armed with a long bow or else with a slender lance tipped with a leaf-shaped iron point and a broad shield of buffalo hide. The shields were painted with fantastic designs and light as they were could turn a spear thrust or withstand an arrow.
The black warriors were scantily clad with strips of hide and adorned with copper bracelets and neckbands. Their round heads were covered with little pointed caps, under which their rolling eyes and shiny negro features looked fiercely hostile, as they glared at the strange blond savages and the ape-like Gorols.
As Dick reached the center of the cleared space, he wheeled his horse suddenly and looked up at the lowest branches of the trees above the jungle path he had just left, but a dense tangle of vines and moss hung from limb to limb. There was no sign of the man who had spoken to them.
"Raal and his people would say this was black magic," exclaimed Dick, "and I'm half inclined to think it is. Who ever heard of such a strange coincidence? It doesn't happen."
But Dick Oakwood bowed toward the tree. "We thank you, Mahatma Sikandar for your protection."
But before Dick could speak further, Sikandar went on in his clipped English.
"The young Sahib has come far. The journey was full of frightful dangers, and Dick Sahib has done this for the sake of a girl he does not love. That much I see."
"And that is true, Mahatma Sikandar. But how did you know it?" asked Dick.
"He must be a mind reader. Or maybe itisblack magic!" said Dan in an undertone.
As they talked, the warriors of the Taharans and Gorols glared suspiciously at the black men; their hands were on their weapons ready to fight. Raal tried to quiet them, feeling that the Boy King could be trusted. He watched Dick's face but it showed no sign of fear or uneasiness. Therefore, he, as Dick's chief warrior, need not be afraid. He dismounted and drew near to Dick.
But the Boy King had his eyes on the screen of vines above the path. At first he could see nothing but the mass of green, but finally through the foliage he saw two shining eyes staring at him. Then the leaves parted and Mahatma Sikandar's whole head appeared. It was a broad good-natured face with a luxuriant grey beard. His dark eyes were smiling.
"Why he looks exactly like Santa Claus," exclaimed Dan, "Merry Christmas, old scout!"
The old man ignored this remark from Dan. His head suddenly disappeared and a few minutes later the Hindu had dropped from the tree and was walking toward them.
"Now perhaps Dan Sahib will believe that I am human," he said extending his hand, English fashion.
His body was short and fat and naked except for a loin cloth of saffron colored cotton. His complexion was darker than that of most white men and his eyes were smiling and friendly yet there was a shadow of a sneer in them, a look of craftiness that made Dick and Dan determine to be on their guard.
The boys shook the Hindu's hand, after which the Mahatma turned to the chief of the Kungoras and ordered him to bring fresh water and fruit for the visitors and to prepare a feast. The black savages hurried away with grinning faces, well pleased to show Mahatma's friends the hospitality of their village.
Sikandar drew Dick and Dan aside and squatting cross-legged on the ground, invited the guests to do the same. In his hand he carried something that was wrapped in a black cloth.
During a pause in the conversation Dan suddenly blurted out: "Say, I'd like to know how you can tell about our trek across the desert, and our names and all that. Who told you?"
The Mahatma smiled mysteriously. "There are many things revealed to wise men that are kept from others," he said very slowly. "Long before you arrived in the jungle I saw you."
The Mahatma closed his eyes for a second then opened them and stared at Dan. He seemed to be looking straight through him. Then he continued in a hollow-sounding voice: "I saw riders, many of them on strange small horses, the like of which I have never seen until today. And the riders urged their horses forward for they saw ahead of them an oasis where they were to rest and drink." Suddenly the Mahatma turned to Dick. "Is that true, Dick Sahib?" he asked.
"Yes, it is true." Dick replied simply.
"Then suddenly the riders all slumped in their saddles and looked tired and ill, for the oasis had disappeared leaving only sandy waste in all directions. Is that true, Dan Sahib?"
"Jiminy crickets, you've got it straight all right, buthowdid you see all that?"
"And where you are going and what you will do, I also know. There is a young girl, a princess, bound and imprisoned. This I see and much besides." He looked meaningly at the boys.
"Boloney!" said Dan in a low tone that Mahatma missed, but he saw the look of disbelief on the boy's face.
"Dan Sahib does not believe that I speak true. I will show him!"
Dan was about to make a flippant retort but Dick gave him a threatening look.
Dick's face was alight with interest. He had heard of the Hindu Yogi who spend many years among the wise men of Tibet, who are supposed to hold all the wisdom of the world in their keeping. Was Mahatma Sikandar one of these? Dick hoped so, for he had always wanted to study occultism and hoped to learn something of it first hand. He was watching the Hindu earnestly and at the first chance he said:
"Can you really see what has not yet happened? It is true that we are on our way to rescue a princess of the Taharans. But tell us, Mahatma Sikandar, will we arrive in time to save her?"
"Veena is safe at present," replied the Hindu.
"But how do you know that?" interrupted Dan impatiently. "You may have been able by mind reading to guess our names, but you can't tell me that there is anything in this fortune telling."
The Mahatma's eyes flashed fire for a second, then he became calm once more and turned to Dick, ignoring Dan's outburst.
"I have heard of occultism," said Dick. "But I want to learn more. I would like to have you instruct me."
"It is a long hard way, Dick Sahib. Many lives are needed to gain wisdom. I will show you."
Sikandar unwrapped the black cloth and displayed a ball that looked like transparent glass.
"He's a crystal gazer!" exclaimed Dan. "Read your fortune for seventy-five cents. It's all the bunk!"
The other two ignored these remarks and Dick spoke quickly. "Look into the crystal and tell us what you see. Is Veena being treated badly? Where is she?"
"She is well treated even though she is kept prisoner, for a white man is bargaining for her sale."
"What'shisname?" asked Dan, giving Dick a poke in the ribs and with an elaborate wink whispered, "I bet the old fakir can't answer a direct question."
"The name of the white scoundrel is Slythe, Jess Slythe. He is a bad man and will in his next life be less than the worms. Thus it is written."
Dan Carter thrust out his hand which the Mahatma grasped without understanding why.
"Attaboy, Old Whiskers!" said Dan. "Now you're talking! I don't wish Jess Slythe any bad luck but I'm hoping everything you say comes true."
Dick turned at this moment and saw Raal. He was sitting with his head between his knees, a picture of distress. Dick called him. "Come here, Raal!" And as the warrior obeyed, Dick talked to him kindly. "Don't worry, Raal. This man, Mahatma Sikandar, is a very great witch-doctor. He can see things hidden from men and gods. By his magic, looking through that sacred ball which he holds so tightly in his hand, he can see everything that goes on in the world. He says that he can see into the village of the Muta-gungas." Dick paused for a moment to let his words sink in.
"Speak O Master! What does he see?"
"He sees Veena, who is kept a prisoner. She is not dead, as you feared, but is being held for a big bargain with Chief Mobogoma, just as Kulki told us. Jess Slythe is asking a big price for the white princess."
"How far away is she, O Tahara?" asked Raal anxiously.
Dick translated the question for the Mahatma who answered, stroking his beard:
"The village is a day's march from here."
"Then let us go at once, O Master. The bargain may be made quickly and after she is once in the hands of Mobogoma, she will be lost to us. Hurry, O Tahara!" Raal threw himself at Dick's feet.
"Yes, Raal, we will go soon," answered Dick. "And perhaps Mahatma Sikandar will ask one of his tribesmen to guide us in the shortest way!"
The Mahatma nodded his head. "I will take counsel with my chief and it will be decided," he said slowly.
Dick rose and looked about as if he intended to order the men to get ready. But Dan put up a detaining hand, "Not so fast, Dick! There is plenty of time." Dan rubbed his stomach, "Don't you smell the eats? That fruit and water we got a little while ago was just an appetizer. I'm hungry as a bear!"
"Not thus does a man gain wisdom," muttered the Mahatma. "It is by fasting and meditation."
Raal was scowling angrily at Dan but Dick quieted him.
"The men are tired and hungry, Raal. Some of them are weak from the long journey. Mahatma Sikandar, the wise man, has ordered a feast to be set before us. After that we will go and the men will be better able to stand the march when their stomachs are full. Is that not true, Raal?"
"Yes, O Master, I know you speak the truth but my heart is heavy for fear that harm will come to Veena."
Suddenly Sikandar, who had been gazing into the crystal ball, said quietly:
"Tell Raal, the great warrior, that the little princess is safe. Before two days are gone she will be under the protection of her own people. Do not fear."
Raal smiled but looked eagerly toward his horse as if anxious to be gone.
"Rest, my friends, and eat for the journey is hard and beset with many dangers."
"What do you see, Master?" asked Dick again seating himself beside the Hindu. "Shall we have to fight?"
"Yes, Dick Sahib, before two days are gone you will have to fight for someone you love dearly." The Hindu gazed into the crystal and did not speak for a long time. Then he straightened up and drew his hand across his eyes.
"I do not see clearly. A fog shuts out the sight. It is not meant that you should know. I cannot see!"
"Say Dick, don't put any stock in all that talk. I never thought you'd fall for a lot of bunk like that. How can he tell, by looking into a glass ball, what is going to happen?"
"Dan Sahib has still to learn what sorrow is. He will learn that lesson soon. That much I see."
"What does he mean, Dick?" asked Dan nervously.
But the Mahatma had put away the crystal, wrapping it carefully in the black cloth.
"There you've done it," scolded Dick. "We might have learned something that would help us. Instead of that, you insult him, and it's all off!"
At that moment the chief of the Kungora tribe approached and with much bowing announced that food was to be brought. The Mahatma retired to a sheltered spot to eat alone and in meditation. Dan and Dick sat down with the warriors.
"This is what I call service!" said Dan as a black boy spread large leaves in front of him and deposited there a large roasted spurfowl. There were large steaks of gazelle meat, wild apricots and a kind of bread which the Mahatma had taught the natives to make, as he did not eat flesh but lived on grains and fruit.
Hungrily the warriors set to on the meal, pulling the birds apart with their fingers and devouring the bits in large mouthfuls.
"You would have made a good savage, Dan!" said Dick with a laugh, as he watched his chum.
"I wouldn't mind belonging to this tribe," Dan retorted. "If they can cook like this, I'm strong for them!"
But finally even Dan had to cry enough, for one course after another was being served and it seemed as if the feasting might go on for days. The Kungoras still sat in a semicircle about the visitors and later Dick learned from the Mahatma that this was a sign of friendship.
"These blacks are a very peaceful tribe, I see," said Dick to the Hindu.
The Mahatma smiled tolerantly at his warriors. "Myways are ways of peace," he said quietly. "But these savage souls are just emerging. They will learn through suffering. But just now they are known to be the most warlike tribe in the jungles of Africa. Offer any one of them their choice between a feast and a big battle and they'd take the battle every time. And make no mistake about it, Dick Sahib, if I had not been here to protect you, this present life would be over for you and your young friend."
"I have no doubt of that, Mahatma Sikandar. And now as my men are refreshed I think we should go on to the rescue of our little friend."
"That will only be the beginning of your jungle journey. Another search will carry you far, far into its depths."
"Have you seen more?" asked Dick. "Tell me all, Mahatma Sikandar."
"It is not well for you to know all, Dick Sahib. For that reason a cloud comes between me and your search. But this much I can tell you. Through suffering and dangers you will finally win. Make ready, my friend. The time is short."
"Your tribesmen are great warriors. Could you not send them with us to help us in our search?"
"My ways are ways of peace, my son. I cannot send my men into battle. But this I will do. Mutaba, one of the best trackers of game, who knows the jungle as you do your house, he will guide you to the village of the Muta-Gungas."
"We thank you, Mahatma Sikandar. The jungle is a new country to me and my tribes of Taharans and Gorols. It will save us many weary steps."
The Mahatma suddenly raised himself. "Here, Mutaba! Make ready my litter. I accompany Dick Sahib into the jungle."
"Say," whispered Dan to his chum, "I'm not sure I want Old Whiskers along. He's something of a frost. I don't like him."
But Dick was giving orders to Raal, who joyously set his men to saddling their horses.
"Let's get ready," he said. "We've got a big job ahead of us, if Mahatma Sikandar knows what he's talking about."
"Okay!" answered Dan Carter. "I'm ready and waiting! Come on!"
"Let's go!" said Dick.
"We're on our way," Dan replied with a smile on his round face. "Oh boy!" he added, "what a relief to have a good square meal under my belt again. Honest, Dick, that trek across the desert was terrible! When I tightened my belt, my stomach was so empty that I could feel my belt buckle digging into my backbone."
Dick smiled. He knew that Dan was a good sport and chock full of courage in spite of his constant interest in food.
"I'd hate to go through a famine with you," he said.
"You'll never have a chance to," chuckled Dan. "I can face a jungle full of black savages and never turn a hair, but don't expect me to do any fighting on an empty stomach."
"We will have plenty of fighting from here on, Buddy."
Dick turned to Raal and called, "Are the men all set to go?"
"Yes Master. But Mutaba, our black guide, is putting up another plan."
"What is it?"
"He can tell you. I can't make out what it's all about."
"Mutaba, come here," said Dick.
"Yes Bwana Dick." And as the big black fellow began talking fast, rolling his eyes and shaking both fists excitedly in the air, Dick saw that he was trying hard to explain something important.
With the little that Dick had learned of native languages, he could tell that Mutaba was very much opposed to the expedition setting out through the forest, but that was all he understood.
"What else is there to do?" he asked Raal.
"Push on! That is my advice, O Master. Many dangers are ahead of us, that is clear, but if we push on bravely we will win through."
Dan spoke up.
"Let's get the Mahatma to translate. Maybe there is something to what the black boy is proposing."
Dick led Mutaba to where the Hindu was preparing for the journey. The wise man had no idea of traveling on foot, like the negroes, or on horseback, like Dick's warriors.
Instead he had ordered his devoted followers to construct an elaborate litter like a Pullman berth. It was covered with woven vines and leaves, to make a private compartment where he could lie back or sit cross-legged and meditate. The litter was hung on two long poles, extra stout to support his weight, and no less than eight bearers, all matched for size, carried it easily along the narrow trail.
The Mahatma poked his head out of the curtain of leaves, as Dick hailed him.
"Who comes to disturb my meditations?" he demanded. "Ah, Dick Sahib, it is you. Whereof would you ask advice of the Master?"
"It is about this guide," Dick explained. "He has something on his mind."
"Speak, son!" said the Mahatma inclining his head sideways.
Mutaba burst into a torrent of language, at the same time throwing himself on all fours in front of the holy man.
The Hindu listened to him earnestly, stroking his long grey beard and occasionally rolling up his eyes in surprise.
Once in a while he gave vent to a word or two of question, and at that Mutaba spoke louder and faster than ever.
"That boy would be grand to have in a calm at sea," laughed Dan. "He is windy enough to keep the sails full."
"Or to run a windmill," Dick smiled. "But what's on the fellow's mind?"
"Looks as if we were going to stay here all day!"
Dan glanced at Raal, who was becoming more and more impatient at the long talk. Ever since the warrior had learned the whereabouts of the Princess Veena, he had been in a state of suppressed excitement. Now that they were so near to the camp where she was held captive, he could hardly restrain himself.
But the Mahatma showed not the slightest concern. In the life that he led, time meant nothing. The years could go by until they mounted up into centuries and it was all one to a man who believed as he did.
The Hindu's carriers were more like other humans, however. They shifted uneasily under the burden and once in a while a bearer would reach out to slap a stinging fly that had lighted on his leg.
Dick and Dan looked on, mopping the perspiration from their foreheads and finally Dick ventured to interrupt.
"What is the word? Do we start?"
"We're in a rush," said Dan. "Particularly Raal, here, is minding it."
"Patience, patience!" observed Sikandar, stroking his beard calmly. "In patience is wisdom and in wisdom we attain perfection."
"We're losing time," said Dick impatiently.
"On the contrary, we are gaining time."
"By standing here and talking?" Dan blurted out.
"Wise talk is better than rash deeds," said the Mahatma. "Behold any fool is strong, but a wise man tells the fool how to use his strength."
"Now what is all this getting at?" exclaimed Dan. "I bet that Old Whiskers has made a mistake and is trying to cover up."
Sikandar's dark eyes flashed in anger at this muttered remark, then he spoke in measured tones:
"My knowledge is vast, yet even a wise man may forget. This black guide reminds me that the trail to the land of the Iron-heads is through swamps. The land is treacherous. It hardly bears a man's weight and the horses would sink in it and be lost."
"Bad luck!" cried Dick.
"We have towalkit," groaned Dan. "And carry our eats on our backs!"
Raal growled and touched his axe handle. "I am ready to go afoot, now!" he asserted.
The Mahatma put up one fat, soft hand.
"Nay, now! Listen to the words of wisdom. I, Mahatma Sikandar, am not the one to be discouraged by difficulties. I have a better plan."
"Out with it, old-timer!" said Dan.
"Patience! Patience! We must all go back instead of forward."
"Never!" interrupted Raal.
"And some miles back from here we are close to a river where my tribesmen have many canoes."
"They will have to be big ones to carry our horses," said Dan.
"The horses will be put in a corral by the river," went on the Hindu. "My men will build a corral quickly. Meanwhile we can start out in comfort, paddling down the smooth river to a point within a mile of the enemy camp!"
"Now you're talking," said Dick.
He explained to Raal how that would save time; for a canoe could be paddled more than twice as fast as it would take to travel through a swamp.
Raal smiled joyfully at this news and muttered, "Good! Longbeard, good!"
"Hooray for Old Whiskers! He has thought up a good idea at last," said Dan. "But say," he whispered to Dick, "Sikandar didn't think of that. It was the black guide. The wise old boy is just stealing the credit for it."
Mahatma Sikandar scowled at Dan and said, "A fool and his folly cannot be parted! As I told you, we saved time by talking and taking counsel."
"Okay, let's go!" said Dick. "We travel by canoe to within a mile of the camp, you say? How is the trail from there?"
Sikandar asked the guide a question. The latter burst out in noisy explanation.
"Bad. Very bad!" said the Hindu.
"From the river, there is hardly any trail but just a dense growth of trees, vines and creepers. It is full of wild beasts and huge snakes. We must cut a path. But the distance is not great."
"Let's be on our way," said Dick. "I can see that Raal is keen to start."
"Patience, patience!" said the Mahatma, but already Dick had shouted an order, the horsemen mounted and Mutaba led the way to the river.
When the party reached the bank of the stream, a broad, sluggish river, almost entirely overhung with the great trees alive with parrots and chattering monkeys, they found that swift-footed natives had already reached it by taking short cuts. No time had been wasted. Vines, tough creepers and branches had been woven between growing trees to form a large enclosure where the horses could be held in safety.
A fleet of canoes was riding on the river and the Taharans and Gorols were now to learn the art of paddling a vessel down stream.
Mutaba went in the first canoe with Dick and Dan.
Raal followed in the second, while Kurt and Kurul commanded the third and fourth.
Following a command from the Mahatma, a number of men came forward. They were paddlers who were to accompany the expedition and instruct the desert dwellers how to handle the boats.
Soon the river was crowded with light craft, manned by warriors at the paddles.
"Where is the Wise Old Bird?" asked Dan.
"Hope he didn't give us the slip," said Dick. "We may need his help before the day is over."
"The Master of Wisdom is in the biggest canoe," said Mutaba, pointing out an exceptionally broad craft with a small cabin of boughs built at the widest part.
True to form, the Mahatma had insisted upon his privacy even in a canoe, and his followers had built a bower-like shelter of saplings, vines and flowering plants, in which the sage could sit cross-legged and meditate.
"That beats all!" Dan marvelled. "Old Brains can certainly make the strong-arm boys wait on him! When he says 'jump,' they all step lively."
The Mahatma's canoe was followed by a second, on which his litter was carried. Evidently the sage had no intention of doing any part of the journey afoot.
His vessel kept in the middle of the string of canoes that slid quietly down the stream, for he had figured out that the safest place was where he would be protected from attacks from either direction.
As the fleet moved under the strokes of strong-muscled paddlers, a low-pitched chant arose from the blacks. It floated over the water and the Taharans and the Gorols listened and soon joined in with the melody, though the words meant nothing to them.
But it was clearly a song of battle and raiding, for the eyes of the black men gleamed excitedly and the whites showed as they rolled them while they plied their paddles with energy. The boats sped faster and faster.
By that time the Taharans and the Gorols, unused to the ways of rivers, had learned the simple art of driving the canoes forward with strokes in time to the chant.
The blond warriors bent to it with zest, their great muscles swelling, while the lighter built Gorols tried to outstrip them in clever use of the paddle.
Soon it was developing into a race, and Raal, who was burning with impatience, felt satisfied at last. He could see progress being made. That very day he might be able to rescue Veena from the scoundrels who had captured her.
Then a voice came to the leaders across the water and sounded a warning: "Patience, patience, my people! Too much haste now, means delay in the end."
"There goes Old Whiskers again," exclaimed Dan. "Maybe we are disturbing his meditations by going fast."
The Hindu's voice sounded as distinctly in their ears as though he were alongside.
"Not so fast Dick Sahib. Let your men rest on their paddles. I have much to say to you."
"Oh shucks!" Dan growled. "We were winning the race. Now the old gazabo wants us to fall to the rear."
But Mutaba had heard his master's command and the order was given. Soon the Hindu's canoe was side by side with the one carrying Dan and Dick.
Mahatma Sikandar spoke through his screen of leaves.
"Bad news, Dick Sahib and for you, too, Dan Sahib, the crystal ball brings evil tidings."
"What's up now?" blurted Dan.
"Were you really crystal gazing in the canoe? And did you see something that concerns us?" demanded Dick.
"I saw clearly what I saw only dimly before," answered the Hindu gravely. "The captives held in the same camp with Veena; one is a man, gray bearded and full of years. That is your father, Dick Sahib."
"Dick's father? Why how did Professor Oakwood get down here in the jungle?" Dan was incredulous.
"He was lured from the oasis by a trick. And he was not taken alone. A young girl is also kept for ransom."
"A girl? Who can it be?" cried Dan as the truth began to dawn upon him.
"Already you guess who it is, Dan Sahib, and your suspicions are correct. The girl who is captured is young and beautiful with dark eyes and curly black hair. She is brave, although her case is desperate, and she calls upon you for help. She is your sister, Dan Sahib!"