"White!" exclaimed Mr. Wallace again. His thin cheeks were dashed with color, and his brilliant eyes showed that he no longer doubted the truth of Montenay's story. The latter nodded quietly.
"Not white like us," he continued, "but as white as an Arab or thereabouts. Their faces showed more intelligence than those o' theblacks, an' they seemed to be overlords o' the—"
"Hold on!" Mr. Wallace broke in with a puzzled frown. "Surely you don't mean that, Mac! There could be no feudal system of that sort here in the very heart of Africa! The blacks haven't the brains—"
"Aye, but the whites have!" cried Montenay triumphantly. "These white pigmies ain't fools by any means, as ye'll see later. Now will ye quit interruptin' me?"
"Go ahead," laughed Mr. Wallace, and the boys saw that Captain Mac was really so interested in his own story that he was anxious to lay it before them without more delay.
"I meant to tell ye this yarn," he went on, "a bit later on, as ye'll see also. The party o' whites were in command of a young chap named Mbopo, an' we took to each other first crack. Well, they carried us off through the jungle for a week's trip. We must ha' been on the edge o' the pigmy country, for we traveled hard. At every pigmy village Mbopo seemed to get reports or somethin' o' the kind, an' also tribute in the way o' slaves. By the end o' the week there were six others besidesoursel's.
"Then we spent a day at the village o' the white pigmies. Man alive, ye should ha' seen 'em! They seemed to live on the blacks, just like the blacks live on the big tribes around, an' they lived well. Palm huts, o' course, but there seemed to be a system o' government that beat ever'thing I ever saw outside the Zulus.
"We passed through two more o' the white villages, then struck a big stream an' followed that for a day or two. Finally we got into a bit o' higher ground an' struck the biggest surprise of all. Just before sunset we came out o' the forest into a stretch o' yam patches along the river. Beyond these an' right ahead of us was the biggest village we had seen yet—three to four hundred huts, I'd say. Outside was the whole tribe waitin' for us. Off to one side, near the forest, was a good sized palm hut, and around it was a zareba."
"What's queer about that?" asked Mr. Wallace, as the narrator paused for a moment. The boys saw a smile flicker across Montenay's face.
"The zareba was made out o' ivory," was his quiet reply. Burt at oncebroke into a laugh, thinking that Captain Mac was joking.
"Pretty good," he chuckled. "What'd they do—cut up the tusks into square blocks to make a six-foot wall?" But his mirth died away suddenly as his uncle made a silencing gesture.
"An ivory zareba," went on Montenay. "Made o' tusks, clear around the hut. They were set with points up, curvin' out. But I didn't get much chance to see it then. We were taken into the village and I was given a hut to myself. The young chap, Mbopo, reported to an old, wizened witch-doctor who was the boss. I judged he was speakin' in my favor, but the old fellow shook his head an' waved a hand at the separate hut. The whole crowd set up a yell o' 'Pongo!' Then they threw me into the hut.
"I stayed there for eight days, too. Ye'll mind that there were just eight slaves an' mysel' in the party. They treated me well, fed me fine, but every night I heard a big jamboree goin' on. On the ninth evenin' they brought me out. The village was surrounded by the usual thorn zareba, an' the whole tribe was gathered just inside the gates, feastin'. Mbopo an' three others tied me up an' carried me out halfwayto the separate hut. Here they laid me on the ground beside a small fire.
"The old wizened chap came out after us with a long iron which he stuck in the fire. Then he pulled off my shirt an' did—this." Captain Mac slipped down his shirt collar and exposed the scarred shoulder that Critch had seen on the boat. As the others gathered around with exclamations of astonishment, Burt could see that the scar was in the form of a cross, except that a long loop took the place of the head-piece. Besides this, the whole shoulder seemed a mass of cicatrices.
"Yon's the shape o' the bit o' wood I found in Yusuf's packet," went on Montenay, when Mr. Wallace interrupted him in wonder.
"Mac! Do you know what that symbol is?"
"It's the sign o' Pongo," returned the other. "From what I saw later it had to do wi' ancient Egypt—"
"I should say it had!" ejaculated Mr. Wallace, sinking back into his chair and staring at Montenay, who slipped his shirt back into position. "Why, that sign is the Egyptian cross, or ankh—the symbol of life, and the peculiar insignia of Maat, the ancient Goddess of Truth!"
"So I found out, if ye'd given me time to finish," replied Montenay drily. "Mbopo an' the rest staked me out there an' left me. What wi' the burn an' the insects that settled down, I was pretty nigh gone inside an hour. The fire was out, an' just after moonrise I heard a 'pad-pad' o' steps near by. Then a minute later I caught one glimpse of a monstrous lion, just as he sprang an' grabbed me by the wounded shoulder. That finished me for sure, and I fainted."
"When I came to," continued Montenay, "I thought sure I was crazy. I was lyin' in a palm-thatch hut, on a floor littered wi' bones an' refuse an' smellin' to high heaven. To one side was a little dish full o' palm oil, with a lighted wick floatin' in it. Leanin' up against the wall, behind the lamp, was a big painted mummy. Layin' in front o' the mummy was an ankh, four foot long an' made out o' solid gold."
"What!" Mr. Wallace stared at the other, almost speechless. The two boys, fascinated by the deadly earnestness of Montenay's recital, were pale with excitement. "But go ahead, man. I can talk later."
"I was still trussed up like a turkey, but I wriggled and squirmed until I got loose. My shoulder was badly torn up," went on Captain Mac, "and I was nigh frantic wi' the pain. A little o' the palm oil helped, but wi' them things around me I thought sure I was crazy. I crawled to the door,an' found I was in the hut inside the ivory zareba.
"The whole business must ha' gone to my head, for I don't remember very well what happened then. I know I went back to the mummy an' saw that his neck was torn open. There was somethin' shinin', and I grabbed at it. Just then I heard somethin' behind me, an' there was the big lion, standin' and lashin' his tail. I remember laughing, then I caught up the lamp an' flung it at him. The oil blazed up as the vessel smashed him fair between the eyes, he gave a roar, and I fainted again.
"Next I remember was Mbopo bending over me. The poor fellow had come to the hut in the mornin' an' found me. It seemed that I had been staked out as a sacrifice to Pongo. This Pongo was a combination o' the lion and ankh. The ankh was the real god, but the lion had taken up livin' in the hut, so the lion was called Pongo and worshipped as the reg'lar deity. In short, whoever had possession o' the ankh could boss the whole country. Pongo, which was the lion, had carried me to the hut. I was in possession o' the hut an' was the first who had ever escaped the sacrifice.
Therefore, I was sacred and in the way o' bein' a god mysel'. I didn't find this all out right off, mind. I stayed in that village for six months.
"I taught Mbopo some English an' learned some pigmy talk. No, I didn't bother none whatever wi' the lion. He showed up later an' took possession o' the hut again. My shoulder was a long time healin' and I guess my nerve was gone for a while. Man, but I wanted to carry off that gold ankh an' that ivory! But the thing was impossible. After six months I got a chance while I was out wi' hunters, and I lit out. I worked my way out by strikin' a bunch of Arabs who treated me white. That's the yarn."
There was a moment of silence. Burt and Critch stared at Montenay in fascination. Mr. Wallace was looking down at the table. Finally he glanced up and spoke, slowly.
"Mac, you said something about proofs."
"I did that." Captain Mac unbuckled his belt, and took a small silk-wrapped package from it. "I told ye that I grabbed something from the mummy. Here it is."
Mr. Wallace unwrapped the package, while the boys leaned over his shoulder in high excitement. From the oiled silk fell out three linkedscarabs, set in wrought. Critch gave a gasp, but Mr. Wallace turned over the scarabs and held them closer to the light as he examined their inscriptions.
"Hm!" he exclaimed at length. "Montenay, your proofs are pretty good. This seems to have formed part of a necklace belonging to one Ta-En-User, high priest of Maat. I should say the scarabs belonged to about the Twenty-first Dynasty."
"Ye're no child yersel'," chuckled Captain Mac in delight. "That's just what they told me at the British Museum. Now, here's another queer thing.
"Ye know more about old Egypt than I do, Wallace. From what I could learn from Mbopo, it seemed that long ago these white pigmies migrated from the east to where they are now. On their way they struck a half-ruined "City of the Gods," as Mbopo called it. They brought away a lot o' stuff from there, which they looked on as sacred. All that's left is the mummy and the ankh. Is that possible?"
"Possible," returned Mr. Wallace, "but hardly probable. They might haverun across one of the extreme southern Egyptian cities, and indeed that would be the only logical explanation of the presence of these things so far west. Yes, the tradition must be true. It's a strange bit of prehistoric African history you've run into, Mac."
"It is that," rejoined the other. "Well, for a year I've been tryin' to make up a party to carry off that ivory an' that gold ankh. I got hold o' Tom Reynolds at Cairo, an' put it up to him. He called me a plain fool. I found McConnell in London. He laughed at the yarn. I tried to find you, but ye'd vanished around Tripoli. So at last I came down to tackle the job alone.
"When I struck your party, I knew right off that wi' the laddies along ye'd never tackle it. Man, I was fair desperate! I determined to lead ye off to the edge o' the pigmy country, where we are now, an' then put it up to ye. There ye are, Wallace. Will ye come in wi' me an' try it? The pigmies won't hurt me, mind."
Mr. Wallace stared at the scarabs. Burt stole a glance at his chum, and the two waited in breathless interest, not daring to urge the project. At length Mr. Wallace sighed.
"You've tempted me, Mac, tempted me more than you know! I'd like nothing better than to make a dash for that place with you—not only for the treasure, but for the discoveries we could make. But with the boys here it is impossible. I am responsible for them, and I dare not go off and leave them in this country. If you'd told me this back up the river I'd have left them at the trading station and made a dash in with you."
"Oh, uncle!" burst out Burt, dismayed. "Ain't it perfectly safe? Take us! Let's all go! Cap'n Mac says they won't hurt him; he's a kind o' god, an' he can fix it so's we'll all—"
"No," broke in his uncle decisively. "I refuse to take the risk, Burt. No use, lad. That's final. You'll have to trust to my judgment in this affair."
"Ye're right," nodded Montenay dejectedly. "I can't blame ye, Wallace. But do ye understand? Ye won't hold the compass business against me—"
Mr. Wallace sprang to his feet and held out his hand.
"Nonsense! Shake, old chap, and forget it!" And the two clasped handssilently, while the boys gave a shout of delight.
"I knew it!" cried Burt joyously, dancing around the two men. "I knew Cap'n Mac was all right! Hurray!"
"I wish you'd take us an' get after them white pigmies, though," put in Critch disconsolately.
"I'd certainly like to get hold of that mummy," asserted Mr. Wallace, his eyes sparkling. "To say nothing of the ankh!"
"An' to say nothin' o' the ivory an' gold," laughed Montenay.
"But," cried Burt excitedly, "why didn't you get after that lion an' kill him? I should ha' thought you'd do that right away!"
"No," and Montenay shook his head. "As I told ye, my nerve was pretty well gone, laddy. The pigmies had guns, but they were old trade-muskets. None o' them except Mbopo, mebbe, would ha' stood up to the lion. That chap Mbopo was a good sort. He stood by me right along, took care o' me when I was sick wi' fever, cured up my wounds, an' learned to speak passable Scots dialect. It was amusin' to hear the boy speak the tongue."
"That feudal business interests me," said Mr. Wallace thoughtfully. "Was this Mbopo a chief?"
"I don't know, rightly," returned the other. "The old witch-doctor was the boss, but Mbopo seemed to be second in charge. The women o' the place cultivated yams an' plantains, while the men hunted. They didn't seem to use poison, like the black dwarfs. That's another queer thing. They had poisoned weapons, right enough, but they got supplies o' the stuff from the blacks. Ye mind, the Wambuti and other black dwarfs are simply parasites on the bigger tribes. Well, these white chaps were parasites on the black dwarfs, near's I could figure it out."
Critch related what had happened on the launch coming upstream, when the black boy had caught a glimpse of Montenay's shoulder. The eccentric explorer laughed heartily.
"They all know it," he said. "The whites couldn't draw it out o' them wi' tortures, but every tribe hereabouts knows what Pongo is, or think they do. It's mostly reputation. These niggers are mighty superstitious."
"Well, we ain't goin' to leave that white pigmy business without doin'anything, are we?" asked Burt. Captain Mac glanced at his uncle.
"Not if I can help it," he smiled. "How about my original proposition, Wallace? Now that ye know the yarn, will ye wait here for me while I take a crack at the pigmies?"
"Why, yes," returned Mr. Wallace slowly. "But frankly, Mac, I think you would be foolish. We are on the edge of their country, but you'd have to get through the black fellows first. They wouldn't know you, and in any event would probably have forgotten all about you. By the way, in which direction is this place of Mbopo's?"
"Northeast from here," returned Montenay, "as near as I know. I'm pretty sure I'll be all right, Wallace. I can show the beggars my shoulder if necessary. Once I get to Mbopo with a few bearers, we'll bring off the ivory."
"If they'll let you," supplemented Mr. Wallace. "You're too cocksure about it, Mac. While I'd be perfectly willing to go along if I was alone, my personal opinion is that it's mighty risky."
"Nothing venture, nothing win," laughed Captain Mac gayly. "Man, but I'm eager to be done wi' the caravan and into the pigmy country! Nowlet's settle our plans. How long would ye be willin' to wait here?"
"That depends on how long you'll be," answered Mr. Wallace, Yankee-like. "If you meet with opposition I suppose you'll come back?"
"That I will," responded Montenay. "Suppose ye wait here two weeks for me. If I don't show up by then, work up towards the Makua. If I get the stuff I'll hit the headwaters o' the Makua, get some canoes, an' come down. How's that?"
"Sounds all right to me," rejoined the American. "We'll give you two weeks, then. If we hear nothing from you by that time we'll move up slowly toward the Makua. It will be easy enough to learn whether or not you have passed downstream. We'll wait there another two weeks, which is all I dare give. That will make about six weeks in all."
"Vera good," announced Montenay with a nod of satisfaction. "Now about the boys. I'll take twenty, if that suits you. Some rockets might come in handy, too."
These rockets were some that Mr. Wallace had obtained at Boma, made so they could be firedfrom a gun or revolver. They were intended forsignaling at night, but had not been used so far.
"Half the caravan is yours," laughed the American. "You'll leave your guns here, I suppose?"
"All but my Express," returned Montenay. "I'll travel light."
"When will you start?" asked Burt.
"To-morrow morning," grinned the explorer, calling for John. When that worthy appeared he was instructed to make all arrangements and select a score of the best Bantus as porters. A bustle of excitement soon rose from the camp, while the four discussed the final arrangements. In half an hour John reappeared and informed them that all was ready for the start.
Before daybreak the boys were up and at breakfast. With the first streak of gray in the east Captain Montenay called his men together, and all left the camp. Mr. Wallace and the boys had decided to accompany him for a mile or two in order to see him off safely.
The party started toward the northeast, in which direction the forest extended and dipped down into heavier jungle and lower ground. After twomiles they came to a small stream, and here the farewells were said. Montenay shook hands all around, with no display of emotion.
"If ye're no seein' me again," he said to Mr. Wallace, while the porters were fording the stream, "ye'll deliver the letter I gave ye last night?"
"I will," answered Mr. Wallace soberly. "And what's more, I'll ship the boys home and come back for you. So long, old man!"
"So long. Good luck to ye," and Montenay was caught up between two of his men and carried across the shallow stream. On the opposite bank he turned and waved, the three gave him a hearty cheer, and with his little band he was lost in the heavy foliage.
For three days after the departure of Captain Mac there was little hunting done. Silent and morose as he often was, the absent explorer more than made up for this in his moments of gayety. His was a strong personality, moreover, and his absence could not but make itself felt keenly.
There was plenty to occupy the boys, however. A number of heads and skins had to be prepared and packed. Then there was the native village to visit, and this was a source of never-ending delight. The chief, whose name was Mvita, gave a great feast in honor of the hunters—to which the hunters donated the greater share of the viands—and the moving-picture outfit came into play with brilliant effect.
Mr. Wallace took out the boys on a two-days' trip after animal pictures, also. By utilizing the natives of Mvita's village and also the Bantu porters as beaters, a bloodless hunt was held. In this the animals were surrounded and forced to pass before a white-ant hill on which Burt wasposted with the camera. Excellent pictures of various antelope, zebra, an old and toothless lion, and an infuriated rhino were obtained. In this way a week was passed, and finally Mr. Wallace announced that on the morrow they would hold another real elephant hunt, as Mvita reported a herd of the giant beasts three miles to the north.
As they were leaving camp at dawn, a number of the villagers hastened up, headed by their chief. With anxious face Mvita implored the honor of bearing the guns of one of the white men. John refused him, wishing to save the usual gifts and emoluments of the office. Burt, however, interrupted with a laugh.
"Let him carry our guns, uncle! We've never been waited on by a real king before, an' it's somethin' to boast of. He won't steal 'em, will he?"
"I guess not," laughed Mr. Wallace, nodding to Mvita. With evident delight the chief took Burt's heavy elephant-gun. He was clad in long flowing red cotton robes, doubtless his insignia of office, but when John suggested that he remove them for the journey he refused indignantly. He could speak a little French, but very little.
"Are we going to spend all day?" inquired Critch, as the camp was leftbehind and the red spears of dawn shot up in the east.
"Can't tell," replied Mr. Wallace. "The elephants were reported as being three miles north yesterday. By this time they may be twenty miles away, or they may remain in the same place for a week at a time, until their food is exhausted. However, we ought to strike something before noon."
"Say," broke out Burt suddenly, "remember what Cap'n Mac said last night about his scrap with that Arab trader? Do you think he was giving it to us straight?"
"Of course," answered his uncle decidedly. "Why?"
"Well," responded Burt doubtfully, "it looked a whole lot like downright piracy to me, that's all. It might ha' happened five hundred years ago, but it's hard to realize—"
"Look here," broke in Mr. Wallace, "you've got to remember, Burt, that Montenay has spent practically all his life exploring. He has his bad points, like all of us, but he has his share of good ones also. I myself don't blame him a bit. That Arab, Yusuf ben Salir, was a slave dealerand pirate himself. Besides, it was a matter of personal revenge with Mac. He's just done a tremendously brave thing in setting out for the pigmy land alone,—well, he's a strange character."
"Think we'll meet him?" asked Critch in a low voice. "Or rather, will he meet us?"
"I'm afraid not," replied Mr. Wallace. "He has only one chance in a thousand of making it. Hello! Look at that ant hill—the sunny side!"
Following his finger, the boys saw a huge snake stretched out, warming himself in the hot sun. All three were at the head of the beaters, and Mvita, the only gunbearer who noticed the snake, brought up his heavy gun rapidly. Mr. Wallace waved him back, however, drawing his revolver and putting a bullet through the serpent's head. Upon measuring him, the reptile was found to be exactly fifteen feet in length.
"Say, ain't he a beaut though!" observed Critch, gazing down at the bright green and gold body. "Is he hard to skin?"
"Not a bit," replied Mr. Wallace. "Not worth while, though. The colors won't last. The gold turns white and the green black."
"I don't care," said Burt, "let's leave a couple o' men to skin him anyhow. Even black an' white ought to make a mighty fine trophy. Snake skin keeps better than fur, anyhow."
As Critch was also anxious to save the python skin, two of the Bantus were left to take it into camp while the party proceeded north.
They had marched for over an hour without any sign of elephant when one of Mvita's men appeared ahead. A number had been sent out from the village to locate the herd, if possible. The man, flourishing his spear, ran up and reported that before dawn he had heard loud trumpeting in the forest ahead, not over a mile distant.
"Good enough," exclaimed Mr. Wallace. "John, get these chaps spread out in a line across country, to drive in anything toward the center. You stick to me, though, and handle my guns."
"Yes, sar," came the reply. A moment later the party had scattered, the natives stretching out in a long thin line far to right and left. Once more the advance was taken up, and all trudged steadily forward for half a mile. It was exciting work, for at any moment the patches of small trees, high grass and rush might yield anything from an elephant to alion. A very hopeful-looking thicket had just been beaten through without any luck, and the three whites sighted an open grassy glade which stretched away in front, when Mvita gave a low whistle and muttered to John. The latter instantly stopped his master. Parting the bushes cautiously and gazing out on the fairly open glade, all could see a good sized herd of wildebeest grazing a quarter of a mile away.
"We must have one of them," whispered Mr. Wallace, as the boys stared at the weird, bison-like animals eagerly. "We're down-wind, so I'll stalk 'em. Come on, John."
The two stole out cautiously, and began making a slow advance over the open space, hiding behind the ant hills and among the tall grass. Only the waving tops of the latter betrayed their presence, but just as the boys were expecting to hear a shot, Mvita touched Burt on the arm. One of his men had approached silently, and his face portended big tidings.
"What is it—elephant?" asked Burt. Mvita grinned and shook his head, then murmured one word.
"Simba!"
"Lion!" echoed Critch, who knew the native term. "Come on, Burt!"
Without hesitation the two boys turned away and followed the native guide. The latter led them to the right for some distance, and as no sign of lion showed up Burt became impatient.
"Where—" he began, when the native stopped, clicked his tongue, and pointed with his spear. Ahead of them the boys caught sight of a small lioness trotting away from a clump of thick bushes. Burt, grabbing for his rifle, ran forward eagerly. Critch's bearer was a Bantu, who handed over the heavy gun but refused absolutely to advance. The two boys ran forward in order to cut off the trotting lioness from a stretch of rushes for which she was making.
They were barely fifty yards from the clump of bushes when they both stopped short at a shrill yell from Mvita, who had followed them closely, at the same instant Burt saw something appear at the edge of the bushes. Then came a low, muttering growl, and a huge black-maned lion appeared, his red mouth open, gazing steadily at the hunters. Burt pulled up his rifle and fired quickly. The growl ended in asnarl, and the lion rolled over.
"Hurray!" shouted Burt, "I landed him—"
"Look out!" yelled Critch, and the explosion of his rifle almost deafened his chum. As Burt had fired, three more lionesses had appeared among the bushes, following the first! Two disappeared, but Critch's shot stopped the last one, not killing her. He put another bullet into her shoulder and she lay still. While he ran forward to make sure of his prize, Burt, followed by Mvita, turned toward the lion. The great beast lay perfectly still. Three of the Bantus had run up, and were standing within a few yards of him.
They were gathered in a group near his tail, admiring and yet afraid to touch him. Burt remembered his uncle's warnings about the remarkable tenacity of life often shown by lions, and stopped when fifty feet away. The lion was still breathing, but lay motionless. Concluding that if he paid no attention to the chattering natives he would remain quiet for a finishing shot, Burt and Mvita ran onward, the chief displaying no fear whatever, unlike the Bantus.
They approached from his rear, and assuming that he was unable to rise,Burt stepped around for a good shot at the eye, which would not harm the pelt. The instant he came into view of the wounded beast, however, the latter revived.
With one terrific roar he sprang to his feet as if uninjured. His green eyes blazed with fury, and his lips were drawn back until his long, yellow teeth were exposed in a snarl that struck Burt cold, for the boy was barely a dozen feet away. The men had fled instantly, only Mvita remaining beside Burt. The latter, taken by surprise, gave a step backward, lifting his rifle.
Just as the beast was in the act of springing, Burt fired. The heavy bullet missed the eye and glanced off the sharply backward-sloping head of the brute, but its terrific impact was sufficient to stop the animal for the instant. Burt heard a yell from Critch, and was tempted to turn and run. The lion was up immediately, however, and again Burt stepped back and pulled the trigger.
This time, however, his foot caught in the grass. The bullet went wild, and the terrified boy gave himself up for lost. A tremendous thud andcrash at his side told him that the lion had sprung; then a quick flash of red caught his eye as he rolled over and gained his feet.
The flash of red came from the robe of Mvita, whose faith in the white hunters had given way at the last moment. Seeming to realize all at once the danger of his situation, he turned and ran just as Burt fell, with a shrill scream. Beyond doubt this movement had saved Burt's life, for the brilliant red robe caught the eye of the lion, who at once gave chase to the yelling chief.
Burt, pale and excited, gained his feet just as the lion was catching up with Mvita. Lifting his rifle, he fired. To his dismay the bullet missed completely, throwing up the dust beyond Mvita. In a desperate effort to save the man before it was too late, Burt pumped at the magazine. At the same instant Mvita made a quick swerve. The lion also turned, coming broadside on to Burt. Just as Mvita was about to be brought down, the boy fired. The lion dropped in the middle of his spring, his back broken. A shot from Critch's rifle struck him as he lay, and Burt finally put a bullet through the lion's brain.
Relieved and rather weak-kneed at the imminent danger, Burt looked around for his chum.
He was astonished to see Critch, who had hastily returned, give a gasp, then burst into a roar of laughter. Whirling about, Burt stared over the body of the lion and then went into a spasm of mirth.
The sight that met his eyes turned what was nearly a tragedy into instant comedy. There was Mvita, a dozen yards from the lion, earnestly bent upon scrambling up a thorn-tree in the shortest possible time! He never cast a glance below, as the roars of laughter went up from the boys and even from the natives, but only climbed the faster. He was nearing the top of the spiny tree; on every limb and thorn hung remnants of his gorgeous crimson robe, and by the time he reached the top he was fully as well clad as his humblest subject below.
In vain did the boys yell at him to come down. Mvita was taking no chances of a mistake again, and not until he had reached the very top branch that would bear his weight did the terrified chieftain glance down. Even the sight of his laughing subjects and the dead lion hardly reassured him, but once he was certain of his safety he took a speedy and certain method of restoring his lost dignity. Descending as quicklyas he had gone up, he brought a long thorn-branch with him, and applied this to his subjects and the Bantus indiscriminately until their laughter was changed to howls for mercy. Only at the intercession of the gasping boys did the angry chief cease.
The Bantus speedily gathered, and played like children about the dead bodies of the two beasts, which had been placed side by side. They proved themselves surprisingly good mimics, one taking the part of the lion and jumping with a growl at the others. Another took Burt's part, snapping his fingers as he stepped backward and finally fell; while a third played Mvita, running to the thorn tree with the lion in hot pursuit. At this instant an angry voice stopped the proceedings, and the boys looked around in alarm to see Mr. Wallace running toward them.
"Here, what is all this?" he shouted, waving his rifle. Before the boys could answer he caught sight of the two carcasses, and stopped short. "So you've been disobeying orders again!"
"Not quite that, uncle," returned Burt quickly. He then explained why they had left, together with all that had happened. As Mr. Wallaceglanced at the almost naked chief, and then at the decorated thorn tree, his face relaxed and Burt knew there was no more to fear.
"You spoiled a fine shot for me," was all Mr. Wallace said. "I guess you've had lesson enough. Get the boys busy on the skins, John."
"How about the elephants?" spoke up Critch.
"They're not far off, unless your shooting frightened them. We'll leave the Bantus to skin these beasts, while we go on with Mvita's men."
"We ought to provide Mvita with a new robe," suggested Burt with a grin. "He saved my life all right back there, whether he meant to or not."
"A few yards of cloth will fix him," returned his uncle, as they started off with the chief and his men. "You'd better carry your big guns now yourselves. No telling what will happen."
One of the villagers led them forward at a brisk pace, straight onward for about a mile. They were now almost in the jungle, the open spaces and higher ground seeming to end abruptly with a small stream which they passed. Mvita's men were spread out in a wide circle, for the elephant herd had finally been located, and once the beaters got around them the animals would scent them and come up-wind toward the hunters.
Presently they came upon the elephant spoor, or trail—a wide swath ripped through the heavy undergrowth by the passage of the big animals.To one side of this Mr. Wallace and the boys took their stand, hiding amid the bushes.
"Let them pass us," cautioned the explorer, "and when you have a clear shoulder-shot, make it fatal the first time. You take the first, Critch—"
He was cut short by a yell that arose ahead. This was followed by a loud trumpeting as the frightened animals crashed away from the beaters. Burt paled as he thought of what might happen should the elephants burst upon them through the jungle instead of following their own trail, but he had little time for reflection. Even as the thought came to him the first elephant appeared with a shrill trumpet of rage, his trunk flung high and his wide ears flapping forward. Behind him came more of the dim, gigantic shapes, and the boys pulled up their guns.
Not ten feet from them, the first elephant thundered past, the others crowding close upon him. Critch waited until he was sure of his shot, and then sent the first beast reeling into the opposite side of the trail with the force of his bullet. Almost instantly Burt fired at the second elephant, striking him just behind the shoulder. The othersstopped for a second, giving Mr. Wallace a chance for a fine shot, then smashed into the jungle and were gone.
"Hurray!" yelled Critch, leaping to his feet. "Mine's down!"
"So's mine," shouted Burt eagerly, gazing at the motionless form of the elephant, who had staggered and sunk into the grass at once.
"Come on," cried his uncle as the first of the natives appeared, "I hit mine badly, and he can't be far away."
Mvita came up on the run as they started, and all broke into the jungle on the trail of the wounded elephant, John carrying the spare guns. Only a hundred yards away they came upon their quarry. The elephant, mortally wounded, was standing beneath a large tree, half-hidden among the foliage. They could see him swaying from side to side, and just as Mr. Wallace was circling around for a finishing shot the huge bulk crashed down and lay still.
"Ain't it pretty near time to eat?" inquired Critch, after they had inspected the body.
"Just about," answered Mr. Wallace. "Where will we make camp, John?"
"By de river, sar," was the reply, and John was busied at once with orders to Mvita and the natives, who had brought along a chop-box. The three elephants killed were all bulls, that of Mr. Wallace having only one tusk. While the ivory was being cut out and the bodies being dissected by the natives, who would make a grand feast that night, the three whites returned to the small stream which had been crossed half an hour before.
John had found a small spring of clear, sweet water near some high ground on the west bank. Opposite, there was a long stretch of marshy, low ground that gave upon the jungle proper. On their camping side, however, this fever-threatening swamp was entirely absent.
Before an hour had passed the three were sitting around their folding canvas table, doing full honor to the forest delicacies furnished by John and his assistants. More of the villagers trooped up to share in the elephant meat, until it seemed to the boys that the entire village was present. Suddenly Burt, who was sitting facing the stream, gave a startled exclamation and pointed to the low ground opposite.
"What's that, Uncle George?"
Turning in their seats, the others saw the top of the high marsh-grass waving as if some creature were forcing its way along. John, who had over-heard the question, brought up the rifles at once but Mr. Wallace waved him back and took out his glasses.
"I don't know, Burt. Doesn't show up yet. It'd hardly be any animal, for we are up-wind and he would scent us. It might be a crocodile, although in that case he would not make so much commotion. What do you think, John?"
The gigantic negro took the glasses and gazed long and earnestly at the faint movement in the grass, which seemed to be coming toward the river. Then he returned them with a shrug.
"Not know, sar."
"Tell Mvita to send over some of his boys and find out," suggested Critch. Mr. Wallace nodded and John was off instantly. A moment later a dozen natives started crossing the stream, advancing cautiously, for they too had been puzzled and were taking no chances. Before they had reached the opposite bank Critch gave a cry.
"Look there! It's coming out!"
Through their glasses they could see a dark object crossing one of the more open spaces. Its method of progression was peculiar, because while it was undoubtedly coming toward the river, it seemed to be rising and falling, floundering in the marsh-mud, and at times lying motionless on the grass-hummocks.
"It's a man!" exclaimed Burt in amazement. Critch uttered a scornful denial, but Mr. Wallace slowly nodded.
"I believe it is," he asserted. "I thought I could make out arms and legs but I wasn't sure. If it is a man, he must be in a mighty bad fix."
A sudden idea occurred to Burt and he glanced at his chum. Critch met his eye and read the unspoken thought. When Burt raised his glasses again his face was white.
Now the natives were surrounding the strange figure, and a moment later one of them waved his spear. The others could be seen lifting the creature, whatever it was, and speedily carried him to the river.
"Come along," and Mr. Wallace rose hastily. "We'll go down and meet them. If it's a man he'll need help. John, did you bring the smallmedicine case?"
"Here, sar," and as if by magic the grinning black produced the required object. They all hurried down to the river, where the villagers were already crowding around in great curiosity. The little band of natives splashed across the stream, and suddenly Burt felt his uncle grip his arm.
"Burt!" and he had never before heard such tense horror in a man's voice. "Go up and get some water boiling right away! Hurry, lad, hurry!" Without pausing to ask questions Burt dashed off. As he went he could hear his uncle continuing. "John, make for the camp right away. Get out bandages, have hot water, make the hypodermics ready and mix some strong morphia and anti-toxin solution. That is Captain Montenay." John was off at a run instantly.
The last words struck Burt like a blow. With pale face he got the water heating, and met his uncle as the latter ordered the senseless form of Captain Mac set down. The explorer was unrecognizable. He was plastered with mud from head to foot and his whole body was swelled and poisoned until he bore small resemblance to a man. Mr. Wallace gave a glancearound, then shook his head.
"We can do nothing here. Boys, we'll have to work to save him. Looks to me like black wasp stings." Turning to Mvita, he ordered Montenay's body carried to the village at top speed. Instantly four natives caught up the senseless figure and made off at a lope.
Mr. Wallace and the boys dropped everything and followed. When they reached the camp after a hard march they found John bathing the swollen body of Captain Mac, and Mr. Wallace went to work at once with the medicines that lay ready. With the mud and dirt removed, Montenay's horrible condition only became more evident. Mr. Wallace went to work with the hypodermic while the boys aided John to cleanse the explorer's body, then handed the syringe to John to clean and turned to the bandages and lint.
The countless stings were washed with a weak solution of ammonia to take out the poison, and an hour later they left the Scotchman a mass of bandages but sleeping soundly.
"I gave him some morphia," explained Mr. Wallace as they washed up outside. "What he needs first is sleep. He must have been inabsolute agony in there."
It was after sunset before Captain Mac wakened from his sleep. The boys were at his side immediately, followed by Mr. Wallace.
"Well," cried the latter heartily, "how's the sick man now? Feel a bit better?"
"Gi' me a drink," whispered the other feebly. When he had taken a long draught from Burt's canteen he sank back with a satisfied sigh. "Where'd ye find me?"
"Down by the river," answered Mr. Wallace. "Feel able to talk?" Montenay nodded and fixed his eyes on the American. "I suppose the pigmies got after your men?"
"Into 'em's more like it," returned Captain Mac. "Didn't see one of 'em. Just arrows—arrows—arrows, day an' night." He paused for breath. "What day's this?"
"Friday," said Critch. "We found you this morning."
"Wednesday it was," went on Montenay as he gained strength slowly. "Last six men went in a bunch. Pulled off my shirt an' yelled 'Pongo.' Tried to talk to the deevils but they wouldn't show up. Started on alone an'they shot arrows all around me. Didn't dare hit me, I guess. So I came back."
"Two days," mused Mr. Wallace. "You certainly looked nice when we found you!"
"It was the black wasps," said the other. "I fell into a nest that night an' it nigh finished me."
"Come along, boys," returned Mr. Wallace as he arose. "You get to sleep again, Montenay. You'll be more fit in the morning."
They adjusted the mosquito curtains for the night and returned to find dinner waiting for them. After dining sumptuously on eland tongue and hartebeest tenderloin Burt pushed back his canvas chair with a sigh of content.
"I s'pose we'll work up toward the Makua pretty quick, won't we?" he asked his uncle.
"You bet we will," replied the latter fervently. "Just as soon as Captain Mac's able to navigate. That'll be two or three days anyway. We have a nice little bunch of ivory and we'll get more in by trading as we go along. Mvita has four more tusks to bring in too."
"That ivory zareba'd mean a good bunch o' money, wouldn't it?" put inCritch. "I'd hate to go through what Cap'n Mac has, though."
"By the way," said Mr. Wallace, "don't use all those chop-boxes. I want a couple of zebra and giraffe skins. We'll get 'em farther north on our way up."
"Mvita told me this morning," said Burt, "that there was some giraffe about five miles to the northeast of here. Why couldn't we get 'em and have a skin fixed by the time Cap'n Mac's ready to march?"
"We'd save time that way, but I don't want to leave him," returned his uncle thoughtfully. "However, I might send you two out with John. I'd trust him anywhere."
"Go ahead!" pleaded Critch excitedly. "That'd be great, Mr. Wallace!"
"John!" called the explorer with a smile. "If I send you out after giraffe in the morning with these boys, will you take good care of 'em?"
"Sure, sar!" grinned the big Liberian cheerfully. "John him be beri careful. Bring back safe!"
"All right. Get your stuff ready then. You can take my big rifle yourself." As John went off with a wider grin than ever Mr. Wallaceturned to the boys. "I want you two to promise me that whatever happens you'll obey John and do just as he tells you."
"All right, sir," replied Critch at once.
"So'll I," agreed Burt. "Five miles in this country won't be any joke, though!"
"It'll take a good day right enough," nodded Mr. Wallace. "John is pretty safe to be with and he'll take as good care of you as I would. If you find the giraffes don't bring down more than two. You might run across some zebra in the same country and if you do, you can get some of 'em too. But I guess there's not much danger of that, without horses.
"Now remember to obey John in everything. He'll be in my place for the day. Better fill your canteens with cold coffee before you go and take your heavy rifles. Let John have your compass, Burt. If you run across any waterbuck bring in a couple for the men. It'll be a good change of diet. Now get to sleep, for you'll be up before day."
After laying out a supply of heavy cartridges and some fresh clothes for the morning the boys tumbled into their sleeping bags on top of theircots. Each leg of the cots was placed in a dish of water to keep off ants and other crawling creatures which might wander in. Critch was half asleep when he heard Burt's voice.
"Oh, Critch! Remember what Cap'n Mac looked like coming across that swamp?"
"Shut up! I don't want to dream about it."
"I was just thinkin' that we'll stick pretty close to John to-morrow, eh?"
"You bet your life we will! Go to sleep."
It was their last sleep in the comfortable tent for many a night.
As Mr. Wallace had predicted, they were up long before the sun. After a hasty breakfast by candle light John discarded his role of chef and buckled on a cartridge belt. As their gun-bearers and a dozen porters assembled, two hunters came in from the village to guide them to the place where the giraffes had been seen and the boys bade Mr. Wallace farewell.
A five-mile walk through rough and thickly wooded African country is not a light task by any means. In the main they followed trails where heavy animals had beaten down the thick grass and left openings through the bush. They saw little game for the first hour, although once a big python slid across the path and Burt missed him.
"Won't we have a yarn when we get home?" said Burt, gleefully. "We'll run some great little old stories in the high school paper next year, eh?"
"Bet your life!" replied Critch. "I'd like to bottle some o' them blamed little red ants and use 'em for initiations. Wouldn't they make the fellows squirm?"
"Say, don't forget to swap some of Mvita's men out o' their stuff. We want to take home a good bunch o' them spears, Critch. A couple o' shields and knives'd go great too."
"No talk-talk now, massa Burt!" John turned to them warningly. "Him giraffe not beri far. Maybe hear."
The hunters had slipped through the tall grass and vanished. It was now two hours after daylight and the boys knew they must be getting near the hunting grounds. They were no longer in the plain and were advancing by a buffalo-trail through a low jungle-growth not far from a small river.
One of the hunters appeared in a highly excited state and John motioned to the boys to get out their guns. They now advanced more cautiously as they saw the Bantus in front gesturing to them and in another moment sighted two giraffes standing in an open glade ahead.
As the boys raised their guns something flashed out from the fartherside of the thicket and both animals gave a leap. Without stopping to think what it was the boys fired. Burt hit the animal on the right and he dropped to his knees, then bounded off and the boy brought him down with his second barrel. Critch had hit the other giraffe in the brain and killed him instantly.
The boys sprang forward with a shout of joy but were stopped by John's voice. "Come back!" cried the big Liberian. "Pigmies in there."
"What!" Critch whirled incredulously. "Where?"
"Them shoot arrows first. Maybe mad 'cause we kill giraffes. Go back quick—"
The hurried order was stopped by a frenzied yell from the Bantus. Dark objects flitted through the trees at their side and the hunters broke in wild fear. Before the boys could stir in their tracks they saw John reel and fall suddenly. At the same time something struck and threw them to the ground, and despite their struggles they were bound hand and foot while skins thrown around their heads made them gasp for light and air.
It was all done so swiftly that Burt hardly realized what had happened before he felt himself picked up and carried off. He could not know that Critch was close behind him and he was in an agony of suspense. Had his chum and big John been killed? He tried to call out but the skin around his head stifled him. He could hear nothing save an occasional guttural clicking word from his bearers and was forced to resign himself to his fate.
It seemed that he was borne along for ages. His head was protected, but mosquitoes and gnats settled on his bound hands until his arms seemed to be dipped in living flame. Then he heard his captors splashing through shallow water and knew that they were crossing the river into the jungle beyond. After this they slipped through thorn-laden bushes that ripped his clothes to shreds, and once a black wasp's sting drew a groan of pain from the boy, for the touch was like hot iron to his hand.
He did not doubt for a moment that he was captured by pigmies. If only they had grasped John's warning an instant sooner! Burt groaned again as he remembered how the big Liberian had reeled and fallen. And whatwould his uncle do? The thought gave him sudden hope. His uncle would know he had been carried off, surely! But if Captain Mac had failed to penetrate the jungle even with his "pull," how could he look to his uncle for rescue?
Suddenly Burt felt himself thrown roughly to the ground. His bonds were cut and the skin pulled from about his head. As he sat up a strange sight greeted his startled gaze.
Critch sat beside him, rubbing his inflamed hands grimly. All around them stood little men hardly four feet tall. They were armed with knives, spears and bows and were naked save for waist-cloths. Each man wore a square-shaped headdress and all were chattering away with their peculiar guttural clicks. Most of them had arm rings and neck rings of iron or brass.
Beyond them were a number of low huts four feet high arranged in a rough circle and in the center of this circle were the boys. When Burt glanced at the faces of the men around him he was surprised to find them not black but brown, with wide-set eyes and frank expressions. The villagewas set in the semi-gloom of the deep jungle.
"Well," grunted Critch, "nice mess, ain't it?"
"What'll they do with us?" queried Burt anxiously. "Golly, my hands are fierce! S'pose uncle'll find us?"
"Search me," replied Critch. "What happened to John?"
"Don't talk about it. I don't know." Burt shuddered. "Wonder if they speak French?"
Burt addressed the pigmies in that language. They chattered excitedly in response but he could make nothing of their words. They seemed to be perplexed as to what disposition to make of their prisoners, for one after another chattered angrily while the rest shook their heads.
"Ain't a bad looking lot at that," commented Critch coolly. "High foreheads and good eyes, most of 'em. Look at their color, Burt! S'pose they're the white pigmies?"
"No," replied Burt. "Guess they're Wambuti. Cap'n Mac said they looked like this. By golly! I got it!"
Seizing a stick that lay beside him the boy attracted the attention ofthe dwarfs. As they watched him curiously he drew a loop in the ground with the end of the stick. From the loop he extended an arm and drew another across. A startled silence fell on the pigmies as they watched.
"Pongo!" shouted Critch suddenly. "Bet she works, old man!"
At sight of the sacred emblem and at his shout something like a groan of fear and horror went up from the pigmies. Instantly one, who had a higher headdress and wore more ornaments than the rest, stepped forward and spoke excitedly. When Burt shook his head and repeated the sacred word a spasm of anger flashed across the pigmy's face and he motioned them to rise. One of the little men darted off into the jungle as the boys were led to a hut and made to enter.
They crouched down in the dark cramped interior and as they did so a pigmy thrust some roasted bananas in at the door. The boys got outside of these without delay and as they still had their canteens of coffee they began to feel more cheerful.
"That was a rotten poor idea," said Critch disgustedly. "Wish we'd shutup 'bout Pongo."
"If we had we might be in the soup by now," laughed Burt. "Got that camphor bottle with you? Mine's busted."
Each of the boys carried a small bottle of camphor while away from the camp. The camphor was a good thing for bites and assisted in keeping off many insects. Critch found his bottle intact and they bathed their hands. Fortunately their pith helmets had not been knocked off by the skins thrown around them and these afforded their faces some protection, although the nets were badly torn.
"I'm going to try getting out of this," asserted Critch as the time passed on without anything stirring without. "Too blamed hot in here for me."
He crawled to the door and stuck out his head, then withdrew it so suddenly that he fell back over Burt. "Gosh!" he cried. "There's a fellow out there with a spear and he pretty near stuck me. It's got that black stuff on it, too! Guess I'll stay in here a while. You can go out for a walk if you want."
"No thanks," grinned Burt faintly. "It ain't exactly inviting outside,I judge. I put my foot in it all right when I mentioned Cap'n Mac's friend. Wonder what they'll do with us?"
The afternoon wore away slowly and painfully and merged into night suddenly. More of the roasted bananas were thrust in at the door, together with some water and mashed-up beans. The little hut was barely large enough to allow the boys to stretch out and as it became evident that they were not to be visited that night they made themselves as comfortable as possible and finally got to sleep. They suffered little from insects because not only was the hut closely thatched and plastered with mud, but there was a fire outside the door.
Burt was awakened by a tug at his foot. Sitting up with a startled exclamation he saw a pigmy blocking the door. It was evidently long after daybreak, for even the darkest recesses of the pigmy village were showing some light. Burt aroused Critch and the latter followed him through the door.
Outside they found apparently the whole tribe assembled. Men, women and children stood or squatted around in a big circle and as the boysemerged they were greeted by a rippling click. Whether it was of fear or anger the boys could not tell. They stood and stretched their cramped limbs.
"Seem to be looking for some one," said Critch. In fact the pigmies were many of them gazing expectantly toward the end of the village, where there was an opening in the circle of huts. As the boys followed their looks curiously Burt recognized the little warrior who had darted off the previous afternoon. He was advancing quickly from the jungle and behind him were a number of others.
"By golly, they're white!" exclaimed Critch.
"Can't be—yes, they are!" Burt cried in excitement. He saw that the six men who followed the pigmy were no larger than he, but they were of a distinctly lighter color. They were also better dressed and carried larger and stronger bows. The foremost was seemingly a very young man.
They advanced rapidly and when they reached the circle of villagers the latter struck their heads against the ground and clicked as if in fear. The white pigmies were first shown the two boys, then were taken to the sign of theankhwhich Burt had scratched on the ground the daybefore. When they saw this the six gave low exclamations and the young one advanced to the side of the boys.
"You know Pongo?" he said in English. The boys gave a shout of joy at hearing the words but repressed it as a dozen spears were poised.
"Yes!" cried Burt, sitting down again hastily. "Cap'n Mac told us. Say—"
"Hold on!" interrupted Critch excitedly. "Are you Mbopo?"
"Mbopo!" the young pigmy repeated with evident delight. "Where know that? You know Buburika Mac?"
"Yes," replied Burt. He spoke slowly and distinctly in order to make the pigmy understand and supplemented his words with gestures. "He's off that way. These people killed his party a few days ago and nearly killed him. They attacked us and brought us here yesterday."
"Hurt Buburika?" demanded the pigmy angrily. He turned and poured out a flood of words at the darker pigmies who howled and beat the ground with their heads. One of his own men stepped forward and spoke a few wordsand the young man turned to the boys again.
"I friend," he said gently. "No can help much. You slave—go to Pongo."
"To Pongo!" cried Burt in dismay. But he quickly rallied. "Where'd you learn English?"
"Buburika," smiled the young fellow proudly. "Buburika—Leopard, little leopard. Him like me. Me help him. Help you maybe. Buburika Mac him Pongo too."
The other white pigmies chattered something and Mbopo motioned to the boys to follow them. The black ones brought out the guns taken from the boys, together with the cartridges and knives. These Mbopo's men took care of and with the young pigmy at their side the boys were marched away from the village of the brown tribe.
"No talkee," cautioned Mbopo. In a moment they were hidden from sight or sound of the village. All about them rose the dense jungle growth. Great trees stretched high above them with their boughs meeting overhead, matted with creepers and vines. Only an occasional ray of sunlight filtered through that vast canopy of foliage under which leaped and chattered flocks of monkeys. Tiny bees tormented them through the tornplaces in their nets.
Every few yards they had to climb half rotted tree trunks studded with briary creepers and alive with ants. They passed stagnant swamps and pools covered with greasy green scum and emitting vile odors. Once or twice a black pigmy appeared silently, received a sign from Mbopo, and vanished again without a word. That vast silence oppressed the boys terribly and they were heartily glad when they arrived at a village similar to that they had left, and halted for dinner.