CHAPTER XIV.
IN A PERILOUS POSITION.
As Jack Howard beheld the hideous, crablike monster dragging Joe across the floor of the cave, an exclamation of horror left his lips.
The poor boy, who was placed in such a perilous position, must have fainted, for beyond the single shriek he had uttered he remained perfectly silent.
Of all the horrible-looking creatures Jack had ever heard of, this one was the worst.
In shape it was as near like a crab as anything it could be compared to, while in size it was fully as large as a mammoth sea turtle.
Its claws were something awful to look upon, and Jack shuddered when he saw that one of them clasped Joe firmly by the shoulder.
Just then the match went out, and the sight was lost to his gaze.
This served to bring Jack to his senses.
Quick as a flash he had lighted another and drawn his revolver.
The monster was making very slow progress with its intended victim, and, regardless of himself being seized by it, Jack rushed up and leveled his weapon at one of its glittering eyes.
Crack!
As the report rang out Jack seized Joe and pulled him away.
A cry of joy escaped his lips.
The unconscious boy was free from the monster.
But at the same time the report of the revolver had extinguished the match, and Jack did not know whether he had killed the creature or not.
A furious thrashing on the ground told him he had not, although he judged that it was in the throes of death.
Lighting another match, he started forward to find a place of safety.
A few steps and he discovered a huge rock, which was flat on top.
Exerting all his strength, he lifted Joe upon it and then clambered up himself.
It was no easy task for him to do so, as the top of the rock was over six feet high.
But fear lent him strength, and he succeeded in getting up in a hurry.
Before he arose to his feet, after reaching the top of the rock, Jack struck another match.
He found that he was safe for the present, for it was not at all likely that the monster could get up there.
He concluded to endeavor to bring Joe to consciousness.
He threw the match down at his feet, and then started to stoop over the boy.
But before he could reach him, a bright flame shot up from the spot where the match had fallen.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the young Englishman, "I have set the rock on fire."
Leaving Joe for an instant, he proceeded to see what it was that had become ignited. The flame, which was still burning with a steady light, made it easy for him to see.
The spot where the match had fallen was near the center of the rock, which appeared to be filled with a mixture of coal dust and pitch, as Jack afterward put it.
The pithy substance seemed to extend clear through the rock, and as soon as Jack saw what it was that was burning, he concluded to let it go, as it furnished him a very good light to see what was going on around him. He now could hear a sharp, clicking noise all around the rock, and a glance showed the place to be alive with monsters like the one which had started to carry off Joe.
Their huge claws, opening and shutting, caused the noise.
Just as Jack was about to turn to Joe again, the boy opened his eyes.
"Where am I?" he gasped, struggling to a sitting posture.
"You are all right now, old fellow," returned Jack, in a voice that was meant to be cheerful, though it hardly expressed it.
"Oh, I remember"—and a shudder passed over the boy's frame—"some horrible creature was dragging me away, and I—I fainted."
"That is what you did, Joe. Why is it you faint away so often? You put me in mind of a girl sometimes."
"Do I?"—and the face of Joe turned a deep crimson. "I suppose it is my weak nature that makes me swoon every time something awful frightens me; but I won't do it any more, for it might be the means of us both losing our lives."
"Well, never mind, Joe," said Jack, in a kindly tone. "You are a brave little fellow in times of danger, and I can't blame you for fainting when such a thing as those down there gets a hold of you."
"Are there any more of them around, then?"
And the boy shifted his position so as to get a view of the hideous creatures that surrounded the rock.
"Well," said he, after a pause, "I am not afraid of them now. If we each had a good club, we could jump down there and kill the whole lot of them in a very few minutes. They are nothing but land crabs, though much larger than any I have ever seen before. A sharp blow will crush the shell upon them, and then they are helpless."
"Is that so?" asked Jack, becoming interested. "But they are dangerous, all the same, are they not?"
"Oh, yes; I suppose they could tear you all to pieces with their big claws."
"Suppose we begin shooting at them?"
"All right."
The next minute the two were blazing away at the crablike creatures.
Jack noticed that every time a bullet hit one of their claws it would immediately drop from the creature's body. The fire, which was still steadily burning, made sufficient light for them to see within the radius of a dozen yards.
When the two had either killed or disabled all the land crabs they could see, they turned their gaze about to see if there was any avenue open for them to leave the place.
Presently they observed a narrow passage to the left of them, which seemed to run through a solid wall of black rock.
Jack was just going to suggest that they get down from their perch and investigate, when an animal as large as a half-grown ox suddenly emerged from the passage.
In looks it resembled a rhinoceros, though both Jack and Joe could see that its back was covered with a shell.
A sharp horn projected from its mouth, and its gleaming eyes flashed like balls of fire.
With an ugly snort the queer creature started for the rock upon which the pair stood.
"I guess I had better shoot him," said Jack. "He might be able to jump up here."
Leveling his rifle at one of the animal's eyes, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet was true to its mark, and the next instant the beast was rolling upon the ground in the throes of death.
"That was a good shot," observed Joe, in an admiring tone. "But, look! there comes another!"
Sure enough, another of the beasts emerged from the passage; but that was not all. Another, and still another followed.
It was at this state of affairs that the two heard the muttered sound of a pistol shot.
"Our friends are coming to our rescue," exclaimed Jack. "Now, then, we have got to kill off these things at once, so they will not be attacked by them before they reach us."
They began firing, and in a few minutes the three beasts had met the same fate as the first one.
But now a new danger threatened them. The smell of blood from the slain animals was drawing a multitude of land crabs to the spot.
As the two looked upon the ground, they saw that it was literally covered with the monsters, many of them had already seized upon the carcasses and were tearing them to pieces.
Again a pistol shot rang out, this time close at hand.
Then a voice called out Jack's name.
Jack quickly answered, as was recorded at the conclusion of the last chapter, and half a minute later Van Vincent and his companions emerged from the passage and appeared on the scene.
CHAPTER XV.
THE BAND OF HORSEMEN.
The moment Jack Howard saw his friends emerge from the passage, he shouted to them to look out for the crabs.
The four needed no second warning. The next moment they were shooting into the crawling monsters right and left.
"Clear a path to the rock!" shouted Joe, who was doing his part of the shooting.
His advice was promptly acted upon, and half a minute later Jack and Joe dropped from their perch and rushed to the side of their friends.
Leaving the fire still burning brightly on the top of the rock, all hands rushed through the passage and soon reached the cave where the skulls and bones lay in such numbers.
Strange to say, none of the huge land crabs followed them, nor did any more of the strange animals appear.
In a very short time Van led the way to the incline, where he and his three companions had slid down in such an unexpected manner.
By dint of the greatest exertion, they managed to crawl up the slippery place.
"Now, then," observed Lank Edwards, "we are all right till we strike ther dwarfs."
"I think we can get the best of them if we keep our eyes open," returned Jack. "'Lead on, Van."
With their weapons ready for instant use, they proceeded along the passage.
Without mishap they reached the end, and beheld the lighted fires of the dwarfs before them.
But they saw something else, too. Coming toward them, was a band of the little cave dwellers, with Doc Clancy and his ally in their midst.
"They think the crabs have finished Joe and I by this time, and now they are going to put them two scoundrels in the horrible cave," said Jack.
"I hope they won't have as much luck as you fellows did," returned Lank Edwards. "The quicker the crabs make a meal of 'em, the better it will be for us."
The mate had scarcely finished speaking when a wild shout went up from the approaching dwarfs, and they beheld Doc Clancy and his man fleeing from them with all their might.
Almost at the same instant our friends saw this, a deafening explosion rang out, causing them to be nearly thrown from their feet.
"The fire on the rock caused that, I'll bet!" exclaimed Jack, as soon as he had recovered himself.
His friends took it for granted that he was right, as the noise came from that direction.
But the explosion proved of great value to our friends, as well as to the villainous couple, who had broken away from their captors.
The terrific report frightened the dwarfs so badly that everyone in the cavern fell prone to the ground, and remained lying upon their faces.
Heartily glad to leave the place, Van and his companions followed Doc Clancy and his pal, who were making for the outlet of the cavern as fast as they could go.
Nothing interfered with them, and fifteen minutes later they were in the open air once more.
The moon had risen, and by aid of its light they beheld not only the horses they had left hobbled in the vicinity, but the two Jack and Joe had been thrown from, as well.
The animals were quite tame now, and seemed glad to meet their masters.
All hands deemed it advisable to mount, and leave the dangerous valley at once.
Accordingly, they did so, and half an hour later they were ascending a steep hill at its other side.
Once at the top of the hill, the country was level, and covered with vegetation.
The howling of wild beasts could be heard on all sides of them, and so fierce were the noises that it became necessary for the party to come to a halt and start a fire before they had traveled five miles.
Selecting a good spot, the required dry wood was collected, and a rousing fire started.
The horses were kept together in a bunch near this, and then, dividing themselves into watches they prepared to pass the remainder of the night.
But so thrilling had their adventures been since they had boarded the raft up the river, that none in the party could sleep till near morning.
When morning arrived a hearty breakfast was made from a doe shot by Jack, and then a consultation was held as to what course to pursue.
"There is one thing certain," said Prof. Drearland, "we would never be able to reach the coast if we started back the way we came. My advice is to keep on until we strike some civilized people."
"Here are hoof prints!" Van exclaimed, suddenly. "That proves that Doc Clancy made good his escape. Where he can go, we surely can, so we will follow the trail."
Sure enough, there was the trail made by two horses, leading on through the wild forest.
The sun was not over an hour high when the party set out once more.
"How far do you think we have traveled since we left the coast?" said Jack, addressing the professor.
"About eight hundred miles," was the reply.
"That are what I call somethin' great," spoke up Lank Edwards. "Just think of it! Eight hundred miles through ther wildest country on ther face of ther earth, an' only lost one man! An' look what we have passed through, too. It is enough ter fill a book, I reckon."
"You are right," returned Van, "and ever since we have started we have been chasing a murderer."
"I think I'll be the means of stoppin' this chase of yours, Van," said the mate. "I'll give it ter ye plain, right now, that I am goin' ter shoot Doc Clancy ther first time I git ther chance. I can't help it, whether you like it or not; he's earned his fate a dozen times since I've known him, an' it's got ter be done."
Our hero said nothing to this. He saw that the speaker meant what he said, and so he concluded to let things take their own course.
When he came to think over the matter, he concluded that Lank Edwards was about right. If Doc Clancy was killed, the murder of his uncle would be avenged, and that would settle it.
The party rode on in silence for the best part of an hour, scarcely exchanging a word until the edge of the forest was reached.
They beheld a long, level plain before them, which was dotted here and there by small groups of trees.
The trail of the two villains was before them, but although they looked carefully over the plain, they could not see a moving object.
As the sun was scorching hot, they concluded to rest until toward evening. A long ride under the rays of the blazing sun might prove fatal to them, the doctor said.
Selecting a cool, shady spot by the side of a small rivulet, the horses were turned upon the luxuriant grass, and the party prepared to take the rest they were so much in need of.
Thus far all hands had enjoyed remarkably good health, but it was owing to the medicines carried by Dr. Pestle.
It was probably four o'clock in the afternoon when they got ready to start over the plain.
Just as they were mounting they saw a number of horses coming swiftly over the plain toward them.
"Wild horses, I guess," observed the professor.
"No, they ain't, either," returned Lank Edwards, who had been gazing intently at the approaching animals. "They ain't wild horses, nohow, 'cause wild horses ain't likely to have men on their backs, an' these fellers have."
"What!" gasped our hero. "A party of mounted men?"
"That's just what it are," was the reply.
"Let's get under the cover of these trees and wait till they get a little nearer," suggested Jack.
They at once did so.
Ten minutes more and all were satisfied that the horses were mounted.
There were about fifty of them, and at the head of the column were two men in civilized dress.
It did not take our hero long to see that these two were Doc Clancy and the villain who had joined his forces with him.
He knew then that the scoundrels were bent on wiping them out. In some manner they must have come across the horsemen and made friends with them, and then got them to assist in their vile purpose.
"What do you propose to do?" our hero asked, turning to his friends.
"I'll tell yer what I'm a-goin' ter do," said Lank Edwards. "I'm a-goin' ter wait till they git near enough, an' then I'm a-goin' ter shoot Doc Clancy, an' ther other feller, too, if I kin. If them fellers on ther horses behind 'em can't fight any better than they kin ride, I think we kin clean out ther whole business easy enough."
Nearer and nearer approached the horsemen, and our friends could see that the mate was right when he said they were not good riders.
For the most part, they appeared more like drunken men than anything else, by the manner in which they wabbled about.
When the approaching band was within five hundred yards of our friends, Lank Edwards' rifle suddenly flew to his shoulder and two reports rang out in rapid succession.
Both Doc Clancy and his companion threw up their hands and fell to the ground.
CHAPTER XVI.
A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY.
The two villains had no sooner tumbled from their steeds than the rest of the horses scattered in every direction, their riders flopping about upon them like a set of scarecrows.
"By thunder!" ejaculated Lank Edwards. "If them ain't dummies on them horses I'm a living sinner!"
"You are right," returned Van. "Come! we will go out and see if Doc Clancy and his partner are really dead."
The words scarcely left our hero's lips when Doc Clancy suddenly sprang to his feet, and, mounting his horse, sped away with the speed of the wind.
It all happened so quickly that our friends were unable to make a move to stop him.
Lank Edwards again raised his rifle to his shoulder, and was about to shoot at the fleeing villain, when Van detained him.
"Don't!" said he. "I want to capture him alive, if possible."
"But he'll git away," persisted the mate.
"Well, let him; we will catch him again."
The horses with the dummies upon their backs now started at a sharp gallop after the one rode by Doc Clancy.
Van led the way to the spot where the other scoundrel lay, and found him breathing heavily, with a wound in his right breast.
A single glance told all hands that the man was dying.
"Give me some whisky," he murmured, faintly.
Jack Howard quickly placed his flask to the dying man's lips.
After taking a couple of huge swallows, the fellow breathed a sigh of relief.
"I suppose you want to know where we got the horses and rigged 'em up," said he. "Well, I'll tell you. We found 'em in the woods t'other side of the plain. They belong to a nation of people who seem to be civilized, from what we seen of 'em, and were rigged with the dummies when we came across 'em. They followed us the minute we turned tail to the place, and Doc, he says it would be a good idea to ride back and get the best of you fellows. Where is Doc?" and he endeavored to raise himself upon his elbow to look around.
"He has escaped," replied Van.
"Well, he'll have to go it alone now. I'm about done for, I guess. Whoever fired that shot meant me; but I'm satisfied. I've been a bad man, and shan't kick now because I've been done up by the ones I've been trying to injure so long. Give—me—a—a—little—more—whisk——"
Before the sentence was finished the man gave a gasp and fell back, dead.
"It is a wonder that he lived as long as he did," said Dr. Pestle, examining the wound. "Let us give the wretch a decent burial and then be off. He spoke about civilized people; we must look them up."
There being no objections, a grave was scooped in the soft earth and the body buried.
Then our friends mounted their horses and started over the plain in the direction taken by Doc Clancy and the herd of horses.
Darkness overtook them before they reached the timber belt at the other side, but as it was moonlight, they kept right on.
A couple of hours later they reached the timber and followed a level roadway through it.
The belt was less than a mile wide, and ten minutes later the party halted, for the simple reason that they could go no further in that direction.
A huge stone wall, not unlike the great wall of China, was before them.
An iron gate of massive proportions stretched across the roadway, which showed that our friends had arrived at the entrance of some undiscovered city.
"Well, well!" exclaimed Prof. Drearland, in a tone of delight. "We have made the greatest discovery of the age. Who would have believed that such a thing as a thick wall of masonry and a huge gate of iron was in the very heart of Africa, where it is supposed that naught but wild beasts and savages live? This is something grand, my friends. We must get that gate open and see what lies beyond."
All hands agreed with the professor, and then Van dismounted, and, striking a match, held it close to the ground.
He could see the fresh prints of horses' hoofs very plainly, and this told him that Doc Clancy and the troop of horses must have gone through the gateway.
"We must open the gate," he said, rising to his feet. "Come! we will see if it is possible to do so."
Van had scarcely spoken when the huge, iron structure swung noiselessly open, as if by magic.
In an instant our hero was upon the back of his horse.
"Come!" said he. "We may be going into a trap, but I am ready to take the risk. Will you follow me?"
"We will!" came the reply from all hands.
The next moment the boy urged his horse through the gateway, and his companions boldly followed him.
As soon as the last one was through, the gate swung back to its former place, making no noise whatever.
"I don't like this business," observed Lank Edwards, with a shake of his head. "It looks as thought ther old boy has got somethin' ter do with this place. Howsumever, I'll stick to ther crowd."
"We may as well go on," said Jack Howard. "We are in for it now, anyway. Here is a fine, level road before us, and we may as well follow it."
"Of course," rejoined Van. "Doc Clancy has gone this way, and so must we."
Leaving the gate behind them, they started along the road at a brisk canter.
The moon, which had been shining brightly a short time before, was now covered with clouds, and the sky showed signs of rain.
Therefore, it behooved our friends to reach a sheltered spot as soon as possible.
Presently it became so dark that they could no longer see their way ten feet ahead of them.
They came to a halt.
They had scarcely done so when they became aware of the fact that they were very close to a building of some sort.
They could see its front not ten feet from them.
Van dismounted and approached the building.
As luck would have it, he struck the door of the place at the first attempt.
Pressing his knee against it, he gave a gentle shove.
Contrary to his expectations, it opened readily enough.
Just then huge drops of rain began falling.
"We are in luck!" exclaimed Van, turning to his friends. "Here is a stone building, which I don't believe is occupied. The door is open, so we may as well go in and stay till morning."
The doorway was a large one, and was on a level with the ground, and, noticing this, Jack suggested that they bring their horses in, as well.
There were no objections, so in the whole party filed, all on horseback save Van, who led his steed.
As soon as they got inside, Dr. Pestle struck a match.
By the light it made they saw they were in a broad hallway, which looked as though it had not been used for a generation or more.
A broad staircase led upward from the hall, and as soon as they saw this they decided to leave their horses where they were, and use the next story of the building for themselves.
This move was no sooner decided upon than our hero was leading the way upstairs.
His companions followed slowly behind him.
When they reached the landing Jack struck a match.
The floor was in one vast room, which looked so ancient and strange that a feeling of awe came over them.
"I say, Van, what do you think of this?" remarked Jack, turning around.
But there was no answer to his question.
Much mystified Jack glanced at his companions.
They were all there but Van.
"Van—Van!" he shouted. "Where are you?"
But there was no reply. Our hero had vanished as mysteriously as though he had been swallowed by an unseen goblin.
CHAPTER XVII.
WHAT BEFELL DOC CLANCY.
It will now be the proper thing for us to follow Doc Clancy and see how the villain fared after his escape from our friends.
The bullet from the rifle of Lank Edwards had not touched him, but, seeing his companion fall, he concluded to do likewise, for fear he might be fired upon again.
When he sprang upon his horse again and dashed away, he did not turn his head to see whether his friend had been killed or not, but galloped away from the spot with all the speed his horse could command.
What the dead man had told our friends about the herd of horses with his dying breath was true.
The two scoundrels had followed the roadway to the massive iron gate, and here discovered the queerly mounted animals waiting to get inside the wall.
They thought it best to leave, and when the herd followed them, Doc Clancy was in high glee.
He thought he would surely best Van and his party now. But the reader knows how well he succeeded.
When the fleeing scoundrel had placed a quarter of a mile between himself and our friends, he turned in the saddle and saw them digging a hole in the ground.
"The poor devil must be dead," he muttered. "Well, I'll have to go it alone now. I suppose I had better make direct for that gate and try and get inside it and make friends with the people who live there. If I can do that, I may be able to set them against that young upstart, Van Vincent, and the rest of his gang. Well, I'll try it, anyhow. Here goes."
Clancy did not halt until he reached the gate, and he was just wondering how he was going to get through, when it opened.
Without any hesitation, the villain rode through, the herd of horses following him.
It was now dark, but he determined to let the horses take him to where they belonged. He had not proceeded very far before he noticed a number of ruined stone buildings, but as the animals did not appear to want to stop at any of these, he kept on.
When he had covered perhaps three miles over the hard, level road, he beheld a city before him—such as he had never beheld before.
We say a city, for though it did not contain over two hundred buildings, yet it was a city as far as its general appearance went. All its buildings were tall and beautiful, and built of stone, while the streets were broad and well paved.
The moment Doc Clancy entered it with the herd of horses at his back, a number of men rushed out to meet him and proceeded to catch the horses.
As the moon was now covered with heavy clouds for the first time that night, Clancy was not observed at all, and his horse was led away with those who had the dummies on their backs.
They were all placed in a large, comfortable stable, and then the men proceeded to remove the figures from their backs.
Doc Clancy now began to grow very uneasy.
He began to think of what would happen when they discovered that one of the animals had a real man on its back.
But the villain was desperate, and determined not be killed or captured.
Watching his opportunity, he slid from his horse's back, and then quickly removed the rude bridle from its head.
"Now," thought he, "I'll lay low till these fellows go out. Then I'll sneak outside myself and see what sort of a place this is."
This was a successful move, the men not noticing the deception at all.
Fifteen minutes later they left the stable. It was now raining, but Doc Clancy determined to go out, just the same.
Pushing his way between the horses, who were now munching their evening meal in a contented manner, he at length reached the door.
"This is a pretty tough night to go out, when you have nice, dry quarters like this to stay in; but I must see what sort of a place I am in, and work a way to make myself welcome," muttered Clancy, as he buttoned his coat about his neck.
The next moment he stepped outside in the storm.
The lights from houses on all sides of him could be seen, and he concluded to approach one of them and look in the window.
Selecting the nearest house for his purpose, he began crawling stealthily toward it.
In less than two minutes he was at the window.
A muffled cry of astonishment escaped the villain's lips as he peered in.
He was gazing into an oblong room, furnished something after the Oriental fashion.
The walls and ceiling seemed to be a glittering mass of gold and silver, and the light from a score of candles, thrust in candlesticks of the same metal, made the scene a dazzling one, to say the least.
Reclining on a divan was a woman, or, rather, a girl, for she could not have been over sixteen years of age.
She, too, looked like one of the dazzling beauties of the Orient, and was robed like the women of Egypt.
As Doc Clancy gazed at the ravishingly beautiful creature, his eyes sparkled.
"By Jove!" he muttered; "if I could only make friends with the people of this place, and then marry that girl, I think I should be as happy as a king. If I only dared, I would open the window. My! what a beautiful creature! I'll do it, anyhow."
Seizing the sash, he thrust it aside, and then sprang into the room with a single bound.
Foolish man! That was the very worst thing he could have done, and if he had only stopped to think he would never have done it.
As Clancy landed upon the floor the girl sprang from the divan and uttered a wild scream of terror.
"Keep still, my girl; I'm not going to harm you," Clancy hastened to exclaim.
But that one scream did the business.
The next instant a curtain was thrown aside and half a dozen men rushed in.
Before Doc Clancy could make a move, he was seized and thrown upon his back on the floor.
A silken cord was wound tightly about his arms and legs, and then in a twinkling of an eye he was whisked from the room.
His captors did not stop until they had descended a flight of stone steps, and Doc Clancy, who was now thoroughly frightened, felt a draught of chilly air blowing upon him.
Along a damp passage he was conducted, the men carrying lighted candles to show them their way.
Suddenly they came to a halt in a large, cellar-like chamber, and deposited their prisoner on the ground.
"I say," pleaded Clancy, "let me go, won't you? I'll get out of your country right away, if you will."
"Silence! you dog of an Englishman," exclaimed one of the men. "You must die! You sealed your death warrant when you dared to enter the private apartment of one of our chiefs' daughters."
"Oh, I know you will save me," whined the wretch. "You can speak my language, and surely you will not see me killed just because I came to your city a stranger and made a mistake."
"It matters not whether I speak your language or not. To-morrow you must be thrown in the lion's den; you must beg him to spare you, not us."
As if to doubly seal Doc Clancy's death sentence, a terrible roar rang out close at hand.
The villain had journeyed far enough through the African wilds to know what caused it.
It was the roar of a hungry lion.
"That is the fellow you will have to meet in the morning," said the man who had before addressed him. "We will place you in this pit next to him. Sleep well!"
Without any further ceremony, a door was opened and Doc Clancy, still bound hand and foot, was tumbled into a pit about twenty feet square.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE AFRICAN UTOPIA.
But what became of Van Vincent? the reader might ask.
By the time his companions started to ascend the stairs, he had reached the landing above.
Regardless of the fact that it was pitch dark, and that he was in a strange place, he started to walk straight for the head of the staircase.
He did not take over ten steps before he brought up against a partition with a jar, which immediately gave way.
Van heard the noise made by his friends ascending the stairs, and then he went shooting downward with the velocity of a cannon ball.
He had a recollection of rolling over and over in some damp, foul-smelling place, and then he lost consciousness.
When he came to again he found himself in an elegantly furnished apartment with a man bending over him.
"Where am I?" gasped the boy, gazing wildly about him.
"You are all right now," was the reply. "You had quite a fall, but I have examined you and find no bones broken. Here, drink this, and you will feel first rate."
Van placed his lips to the shining metal mug that was proffered him, and drank its contents almost at a single gulp.
It tasted like wine, only more delicious than any he had ever drank before.
As the strange man said it would, it made him feel better, and he arose to a sitting posture.
Van glanced long and earnestly at the man before he uttered a word.
He saw that he was a Caucasian, attired in Oriental costume, and that was all there was of it.
"Who are you?" asked the boy; "and what place am I in?"
"You are in the African Utopia, which is situated in the wildest part of the Dark Continent," was the reply. "Now, let me ask you a question: How did you get here?"
"I traveled from the mouth of the Congo River," returned Van.
"What purpose had you in risking your life to make such a dangerous journey?"
"I came here partly because I am following a man who murdered my uncle, and whom I have sworn to take back to the United States, if he is not killed before I am able to do it."
"You said 'partly'; you must have another reason for coming here, then?"
"Yes; I fell in with some Englishmen, who were starting on an exploring trip, and joined their party."
"Where are they now?" asked the man.
"In the house where you found me—or, at least, they were the last I saw of them."
"You say in the house where I found you. How do you know but that you are in the same house yet?"
"I might be, but I don't believe it. That building was an old, tumble-down affair, and, judging from the appearance of this room, this is not."
"You are right, boy. You are two miles from the place where you had the fall. I had been out setting a trap to catch a lion, and on my way back stopped in the cellar of the old building. Almost the first thing I stumbled upon was your body, and, finding that you were one of my own nationality, apparently, I threw you upon my horse's back and brought you here."
"Well," said Van, after a pause, "I should like to go and look up my friends."
"You remain just where you are. I'll send out a couple of men to hunt up your friends. You lie down and go to sleep, and you will surely see them in the morning."
"I guess I'll do as you say," returned our hero. "To tell the truth I am so sleepy I can scarcely keep my eyes open."
Whether it was the drink that caused it, or whether it was because he was completely tired out, we cannot say, but, anyhow, five minutes later Van Vincent was sleeping soundly upon the soft divan.
The sun was shining brightly when he awoke, which informed him that another day had arrived, and also that the storm had cleared.
He was in the same room he had fallen asleep in, and, rising from the divan, Van went to the window.
As he looked out and saw that he was in a little city, a cry of surprise came from his lips.
"So this is the African Utopia," he mused. "Well, it looks like a place where naught but enjoyment could be found. I never saw such a beautiful spot in my life."
Our hero's meditations were cut rather short, for at that moment a door opened and a number of people entered.
To his great joy, he beheld his friends standing before him.
Yes, they were there in reality—Jack, Lank Edwards, Joe, and the professor and doctor.
Van did not utter a word till he had shook the hand of each.
"Where did you stay all night?" he then asked.
"In this house," replied Jack.
"You did?"
"Sure!" exclaimed Lank Edwards. "After we got tired lookin' for you in ther old building, we went downstairs by ther horses. About half an hour after that along comes two men, who said as how you sent for us. When we got here ther boss of ther house explained things to us, an' said as how you were asleep, so we concluded to wait till morning afore we seed you."
"That's about all there is of it," said Jack, with a laugh. "But come! our host is waiting for us to come to breakfast. A deuced fine place we have struck, I can tell you!"
Van followed his companions from the room, and then all hands entered an elegant dining room, where the man he had met the night before was awaiting them.
A few minutes later they were seated at a table, enjoying a sumptuous repast.
During the meal our friends learned considerable about the little city they were in.
Three hundred years before, a band of Egyptians had discovered it almost the same as it now was, only that it was deserted.
The race who had built it had in some way become extinct, but their handiwork still remained, and glad enough were the little band to take it as their future home.
One hundred years after the band of Egyptians—numbering less than fifty—took possession of the city within the wonderful wall, it had over five hundred inhabitants, and with the growth of its people many improvements were made.
During the last century more than one exploring party—or what was left of the original party—had reached it and found it a veritable haven of rest and contentment.
As yet, no man who had ever reached the city had made the attempt to leave it, and thus it was that its inhabitants numbered over two thousand, nearly all modern languages being spoken by them.
Such a thing as money was not used in African Utopia. All hands worked, and the results of their different labors were freely exchanged, thus making everything of value equal to money.
When a man became too lazy to work for his living, he was thrown to a hungry lion as a warning to any who might chance to follow in his footsteps.
The people governed the beautiful place by electing a set of officers every year, and everything went on like clockwork.
The finest of silks and morocco were produced here, and the architects and builders were equal to any in the world.
Of course, our friends were much astonished when they learned all this, but they were forced to believe it when they looked at their surroundings.
They were at the breakfast table nearly two hours, and when they at length arose their host, who gave his name as Poppet, told them to follow him and they would see something worth looking at.
They were all glad to get outside, and when they did so they could no longer wonder why it was that none who came to the place ever left.
The air was balmy and soft, and as our friends breathed it they felt exhilarated and refreshed.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Dr. Pestle, "I'll bet that such a thing as lung troubles are unknown here. Never in my life before have I breathed such pure air."
After ten minutes' walk their host halted before a pit, which had a strong iron railing around it.
"Look down there!" said he.
CHAPTER XIX.
DOC CLANCY'S CONFESSION.
When Van saw that it was Doc Clancy who had been thrown in to the lion, he could scarcely believe his senses.
Like his companions, he was spellbound for a moment.
As the wretched man cowered close to the side of the pit, the lion halted in front of him, as if to gloat over his victim's misery and terror.
"By Jove!" exclaimed our hero. "Doc Clancy shall not die that way. When he leaves this world, he shall die with a rope about his neck."
Quick as a flash he leveled his rifle at the lion and pulled the trigger.
Crack! As the report rang out on the still, morning air, the king of beasts rolled over upon the ground in the throes of death.
The bullet from Vincent's rifle struck the creature just behind the left fore-shoulder, entering the heart.
It all happened so quickly that none of the inhabitants of the wonderful city could make a move to stop the boy from killing the lion; and as soon as they saw what he had done, a hoarse cry of anger went up from their lips.
"You've played ther part of a fool, Van!" exclaimed Lank Edwards, with a look of disgust. "By saving the life of the murderer of your uncle, you have placed yer own in great danger."
"You are right," put in Poppet, who heard the words. "Young fellow, though you are my guest, I cannot be answerable for your safety."
"It matters not," returned Van. "That man murdered my uncle, and I have chased him too far to see him die before I have a written confession from him. And then, again, when he dies I want to see him do so with a rope around his neck."
It was wonderful to note the change that came over the face of Poppet when he heard the boy's words.
Turning to the excited crowd about the pit, he addressed them in the language of the city, telling them exactly what our hero had said.
This seemed to satisfy them, and the next moment the entire crowd were gazing at the plucky American boy with admiring eyes.
"Well," observed Poppet, at length, turning to our friends, "I am the master of all executions that take place, and overseer of prisoners as well. For the present I will have this man locked up, and to-night the city officers will decide upon what is to be done with him. It may be that they will approve of what you say; and if so, the confession you desire will be forced from him, after which he will be executed after the fashion of your country."
"What did he do that caused him to be thrown to the lion?" asked Joe, turning his large, dark eyes upon Poppet.
"He insulted the daughter of one of the best men in Utopia last night, and when a man does that here the penalty is that he shall be thrown into the lion's pit," was the reply.
Our friends were now conducted back to the house of their host, and here it was that they learned two things which had hitherto seemed rather queer to them.
The first was how it was that Doc Clancy had discovered the horses rigged up in such a curious fashion; and this was explained by Poppet as being a ruse practiced by his people to frighten their enemies who dwelt outside the wall. In this case the man who led the mounted dummies had been killed in some manner, and thus it was that Clancy and his associate had discovered the horses, who had returned to the gate in the huge wall.
The other thing which became plain to them was that of the iron gate opening and shutting without apparent cause, and we will explain it in Poppet's own words.
"Whenever the gate is opened it must be done by a person in the center of our little city," said he. "There are wires laid underground to the gate, and when admission is sought the person in charge of them becomes aware of it immediately, as a bell will ring twice in quick succession. A knob is touched and open comes the gate, and when the person or persons are through it shuts."
"It must be done by electricity," remarked our hero, in great surprise.
"That is exactly what it is done by," was the reply. "All the power used in the city is furnished by it."
Our friends were too much astonished to speak after they heard this.
But the city they had struck was indeed a wonderful one, and beyond this we will not say much of it, as we have not the space at our command, and, besides, it would be deviating from our story too much.
Shortly after noon, Poppet asked Van to take a trip with him to see the prisoner.
Of course, our hero was only too glad to avail himself of the opportunity, and the pair at once set out.
The distance to the place where Doc Clancy was confined was not great, and they soon arrived there.
It was the same place where the villain had been taken by those who captured him on his entrance to the house where the girl was.
The cowardly villain was seated upon the floor of the cell he was confined in, the picture of abject misery.
"How are you, Doc Clancy?" said Van, placing his face close to the bars in the heavy, iron door.
A hopeful expression came over Clancy's face, and he at once rose to his feet.
"Have you come to take me out of here?" he demanded, in an eager tone. "Who was it that shot the lion and saved my life?"
"In answer to your last question, I will say that it was I who killed the lion," was our hero's reply.
An expression of amazement came over Doc Clancy's face.
"You saved my life! You!—when I have tried to kill you so many times!"
"Yes, it was I, and I nearly got into serious trouble by doing it. Now, Doc Clancy, I want to ask you to do something for me."
"What is it? I will do anything you ask."
"I want a written confession from you that your murdered my uncle."
For a moment the wretched man made no reply. Then he looked up slowly until his eyes were on a level with those of our hero.
"I will give it to you," he said, at length. "Write as I dictate, and when you have finished I will sign it."
In a moment Van produced his notebook and pencil from his pocket.
The next fifteen minutes was spent in writing the man's words, and then, with a trembling hand, the wretch signed it, Poppet being a witness.
The confession implicated the lawyer who had charge of all the affairs of Van's murdered uncle, and the boy vowed inwardly that he should suffer for the part he had played in the crime if he ever got back to his home.
"There, now!" exclaimed Doc Clancy, when he had signed the paper and handed it to Van, "I suppose you will get me out of here now, and let me go about my business."
"He has nothing to say about a matter of that kind," said Poppet, coldly. "You have a serious charge against you for insulting the daughter of one of our prominent citizens and you must suffer the penalty of your rash act. Also, it is the law of the African Utopia that a man who is proven a murderer—whether the crime was committed here or in any other part of the world—must die. Your confession proves that you are a vile murderer, and therefore, you must die!"
"What!" screamed Doc Clancy, in a frantic voice. "Van, you will not allow this, will you?"
"Come away!" exclaimed Poppet, taking our hero by the arm. "Bandy no more words with the scoundrel."
As they turned away from the cell, Doc Clancy uttered a yell of terror and fell to the floor in a fit.
CHAPTER XX.
OUR HERO FINDS A FATHER.
Shortly after Van and Poppet arrived at the latter's house, a messenger came in, stating that the president of the city board would like an audience with the visiting strangers.
"We will get ready and go at once," said Poppet. "The president, who is a cripple, is an American, and no doubt he would be glad to see some of his own countrymen."
"We are not all Americans," spoke up Jack Howard; "three of us are English, you know."
"Four," added Joe. "My parents were born in England."
"Well, two of us are natives of the United States," said Van; "and so we will be very glad to see the president."
"So will we," exclaimed Jack. "I think just as much of America as any other nation on the face of the globe."
"I think enough of her to give all I am worth if I was only back there now," observed Lank Edwards. "I've got a wife an' three children waitin' for me in ther land of ther free, an' I am wery anxious ter git home again, I kin tell you!"
A far-away look came into the eyes of the honest-hearted mate, which caused his companions to change the subject.
In a few minutes they were ready to go to the president of the African Utopia, and with Poppet at their head, they set out.
As the city was very small, as was before stated, it did not take them long to reach the president's office, which was situated in the most pretentious building in the city.
Without any preliminaries whatever, our friends were ushered in.
They beheld a pleasant-faced man of middle age seated in a huge armchair, and when he arose to greet them they saw he was minus a leg.
Poppet introduced them as the six visiting strangers, but when the president had shaken them by the hand, he requested them to write their names in the book of new arrivals, so he might know their names.
Each one complied with the reasonable request, and then the man looked over the names.
When he came to our hero's signature he started as though he had received an electric shock.
"Which one of you is Van Vincent?" he asked, in a strange, unnatural voice.
"I am," replied Van, stepping forward.
The president gazed at the boy for fully five minutes before he again spoke, and it was plain to be seen that he was undergoing a great deal of excitement.
"I would speak to you alone," he at length said. "Your friends will please excuse us for a short time."
"While you are engaged I will show our friends through the city building," spoke up Poppet.
"Very well, if all are satisfied."
The next minute Van Vincent and the president of the strange city were alone in the room.
"So your name is Van Vincent," said the crippled man, gazing at our hero in a curious manner.
"It is," was the reply.
"Where were you born?"
Van quickly told him.
"Your mother is dead, is she not?"
"Yes," replied the boy, gazing at him in surprise. "My father is, too. He died somewhere in Africa, I believe."
"No, he did not!"
"What!" exclaimed Van. "Did you know him?"
"I did, and do now."
"Where is he, then? Won't you take me to him?"
"He stands before you, my boy. I am your father!"
Had a bombshell exploded, Van could not have been more astounded.
Was it possible that he had found his father in the heart of the Dark Continent?
It seemed scarcely probable, and yet, as he gazed at the man before him, he felt that it was certainly true.
With a coolness that was remarkable under the circumstances, the president drew a time-worn pocketbook from his pocket.
Opening it, he drew forth three small photographs.
"There," said he, handing them to Van, "is the likeness of myself, and also those of my family, when I had been two years married."
As Van gazed at the pictures a mist came before his eyes, and he was forced to catch the back of a chair for support.
The photos were those of a young man and woman, and an infant of probably a year old.
But this was not what caused Van to act so strangely. He carried duplicates of those very pictures in his pockets.
The man and woman were his father and mother, and the infant was himself.
That settled the whole business.
Father and son were united after years of separation.
"But, father," said Van, after both had somewhat recovered from their excitement, "how was it that you never came home?"
"It was impossible for me to make the attempt, my boy. Through the treachery of one of my own party, I lost my left leg just before I reached the gate of this wonderful city.
"I was picked up by the Utopians, and nursed back to health and strength, and then, knowing the terrible dangers I had passed through in order to reach this place, I agreed to live with them always, since it would be naught but suicide for me to start for the coast alone, crippled as I was.
"Your mother was dead, and you were in the care of my brother, whom I knew would take proper care of you, and so I tried to content myself here, and have succeeded very well, though many is the time I have thought of home and found the hot tears streaming down my face."
"You say you lost your leg through the treachery of one of your own party," said Van. "Tell me how it happened, won't you?"
"I will do that in a few words, my son. It was this way: The party I was leading on my tour of discovery had dwindled down to eleven men—six whites and five blacks.
"All, save one besides myself, had often declared that they would travel no further, but, under our persuasion, they would again start out.
"I began to notice that the fellow who took sides with me had more control over the men than I did, but thought nothing of it until one day, when I gave orders to resume our march, after eating dinner.
"It was then that the man I trusted deliberately drew his rifle to his shoulder and shot me; and then without a word they started over the back trail, leaving me lying bleeding upon the ground.
"The man who did that was a cousin of yours, Van. His name was John Moreland."
"What!" gasped Van. "Why, the scoundrel is in the city this very moment. He is the prisoner who is confined in the cell."
Then it was the elder Vincent's turn to be surprised.
Van now proceeded to relate all that had happened since his uncle's murder, and his father was deeply interested in the recital of the story.
"Well, my son," said he, after a rather long interval of silence, "John Moreland, or Doc Clancy, as you call him, will surely be executed, and after that happens I shall endeavor to work things so I shall be able to leave this beautiful country and go back with you to the land of our birth. And now you had better return to your friends and tell them that you have found a father. I will arrange things in my house this afternoon, and you and your companions will be my guests as long as you remain in the city."
Van now left his father and started to hunt up Jack Howard and the rest.
He soon learned that they had gone to take a look about the ancient though beautiful city, and taking the direction they had gone, he started to find them.
The boy was so elated and full of joy at the miraculous finding of his father, that he hardly noticed anything as he walked along.
Just as he was passing a fine-looking edifice, he was startled by the shrill scream of a female in distress.
In a moment Van's chivalric nature was aroused, and he turned his eyes in the direction the cry came from.
By the side of the building he beheld a beautiful girl struggling in the arms of a powerful-looking man.
Quick as a flash, Van leaped over the low fence in front of the house and rushed to the spot.
The girl was doing her best to get away from the man, who now held his hand tightly over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.
The next instant our hero's fist shot out and the brute staggered and fell to the ground.