TWO reports rent the air. Without an outcry the big eland collapsed. A hyena, too, had been hit by Bob’s rifle.
“One good turn done,” said Mr. Lewis, handing his rifle to his gun bearer.
“Wait till I shoot the rest of those hyenas,” came from Bob, who was taking aim with a high-velocity .22 rifle.
“Um get bigger gun. No kill um with little gun.” Noko was watching Bob curiously.
“Watch me and see,” smiled Bob.
Using his knowledge of marksmanship, the youth killed all of the hyenas by sending bullets through the eye to the brain. The stupid animals had not made the slightest move to flee, even though they saw their companions go down.
But scarcely had the cloud of smoke lifted when the explorers saw something else making for the body of the eland. Three large black vultures perched on the carcass.
More carefully aimed bullets from Bob’s rifle finished them instantly.
“Ready now?” chuckled Mr. Holton.
“Sure,” Bob answered. “That job’s over. Somehow I couldn’t leave without letting those hyenas and vultures have it.”
A little farther on, the adventurers came to a narrow trail that wound through the tall grass. As it headed in their direction, they followed it.
For the last ten minutes Bob and Joe had fallen to the rear of the safari. Now, when they returned to join their fathers, Mr. Lewis turned to them.
“Noko says there may be a native village a little farther on,” he said. “Howard and I think it might be best to make for it, because the blacks may be able to tell us of some big game in this vicinity. We’d like especially to have a fine leopard skin.”
“Leopard! Boy! Sounds exciting,” grinned Joe. “Here’s hoping we see one—or more, for that matter.”
They trudged on for over an hour. Then, when they were beginning to fear that no village was near, they rounded a bend in the bushes and found themselves facing a group of thatched huts.
“Came to it at last,” mused Bob. “But—where are the people? Looks like nobody’s at home.”
“Maybe they’ve gone visiting,” remarked Joe with a laugh.
Mr. Holton suggested that they move on into the village to see if there was any evidence of recent human habitation.
Leaving the bearers at a little clearing to wait, the four Americans and Noko walked toward the grass huts, keeping on the alert for anything human or animal.
“Looks like it’s deserted, all right,” remarked Joe. “Not a soul anywhere.”
“What’s that?” cried Bob suddenly, stopping at once.
“What?” questioned his chum.
“Sounded like—— Come on, Joe. Let’s go around this hut and see what we can see.”
The youths left the naturalists and Noko and made their way to the other side of a large thatched house.
Then, horror stricken, they saw what had caused Bob to utter his sudden exclamation.
Coiled but a few scant feet away was a long black mamba, the most poisonous snake of Africa. It was eyeing the human invaders staringly, apparently with evil purpose.
For one awful moment the youths gazed in terrible fascination, unable to take their eyes from the hideous reptile. Then, sensing the need for flight, they turned to leave. But they hesitated.
“It’s going to strike!” gasped Joe. “And neither of us has a gun!”
Bob looked about wildly for some club or other weapon with which to defend himself and his friend, but saw none. For a second he thought of turning to run, but he soon realized that the deadly snake could probably move much faster than could he.
What greatly puzzled the youths was why the mamba appeared to be taking the aggressive. Perhaps, however, it was angered because frightened.
Just then the youths heard a shout from Mr. Lewis and then the report of a rifle.
The snake’s head was shattered into a horrid pulp, which almost sickened the boys. It writhed about feebly, then was still.
Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton rushed toward their sons.
“You sure fired that shot in time,” said Bob with a shudder. “I was beginning to think it was all over with us.”
“It was a terribly narrow escape,” breathed Mr. Holton, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “We should have warned you about mambas.”
“Why?” asked Bob. “They aren’t here any more than anywhere else, are they?”
“Yes,” returned Mr. Holton emphatically. “A deserted village nearly always contains at least one mamba. For some reason they like to pick on such a place. But the main thing now,” he added, “is that you’re still alive.”
With one last glance at the dead reptile the explorers turned toward the safari. As they passed through the village they kept a close watch for any more of the dreaded snakes, but saw none near. They did see another quite a distance away, although it did not apparently catch sight of them.
“I’ve been wondering just where the villagers are and why they left their huts,” remarked Mr. Lewis, when they had rejoined the others of the expedition.
“Maybe those mambas drove them out,” suggested Bob, but Noko shook his head.
“No rain now, and dey go to place where is water,” was the opinion voiced by the head native.
“By Jupiter! Perhaps you’re right, Noko,” exclaimed Joe’s father. “Well, then, if that is true, there is no use waiting for them to return. Let’s go.”
Under the expert leadership of the veteran Noko, the expedition was making good time toward the little-known Forest of Mystery. If their luck should hold, they would reach it in but a few days.
“According to Mr. Seabury, back in Mombasa, we should come to a very wide, shallow stream. A little beyond this is the Forest of Mystery,” said Mr. Holton, as that night they were camped at the foot of a little knoll. “We should be nearing that stream now.”
Mention of this out-of-the-way place revived the name of Thomas Seabury, the missing brother of the man in Mombasa.
“Wonder if we’ll find him,” mused Joe, gazing off into the dark depths of the jungle.
“Hard telling,” returned his friend. “About all we can do is to ask natives if they have seen or heard of him. And if they haven’t—well, it doesn’t look like there’ll be much chance of coming across him.”
“You’re right, Bob,” affirmed Mr. Lewis. “Africa is a very large place, and he might have left that unknown forest long before. But we’ll certainly do all we can to locate him.”
For two successive days the safari plunged on steadily without coming to the stream.
Late in the afternoon the explorers were crossing a stretch of open country when suddenly Mr. Lewis called a halt. He pointed to something that was coming toward them.
It was an impala, a species of antelope, and was evidently in the last stage of exhaustion. Running wildly and without aim, the animal was a pitiable sight.
Then the adventurers saw something else. Two African hunting dogs were pursuing the impala and were gaining rapidly. In but a short time they would be upon it.
“Quick!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, grasping his rifle from its bearer. “We must shoot those dogs before they get that fine big antelope. Ben, you take the one ahead. I’ll pick the one behind. Now!”
Bang! Crack!
The sound of the guns was mingled with a last cry from one of the hunting dogs as it rolled over. The other had been killed instantly.
“Two less pests in the world,” murmured Mr. Lewis, and then, turning to Bob and Joe: “All the hunters in Africa couldn’t kill off as many beautiful harmless animals as the African hunting dog.”
“Why? How do they do it?” inquired Joe.
“They usually hunt in packs,” his father replied. “And the antelope or other animal that they go after is as good as doomed. They never give up till they get the one they’re after. Worst thing is, they kill new animals every day and eat only a small part of the flesh. Then they single out more.”
“The pests!” growled Bob. “From now on I’m going to plug every one I see. They——”
He did not finish, for just at that moment the party emerged from a thick jungle growth to see a wide stream just ahead. Beyond it was an endless mass of towering trees, which grew so close together as to form a veritable jungle.
Bob uttered a cry of delight.
“The Forest of Mystery!” he broke out. “We’ve found it!”
“I believe you’re right, Son,” observed Mr. Holton, his eyes scanning the landscape. “This is certainly the wide stream that George Seabury said we’d see. Then too, Thompson, that naturalist we saw in San Francisco, mentioned it.”
“That distant forest sure looks mysterious,” remarked Joe, gazing ahead at the mass of towering trees. “How large is it?”
“A good many miles across,” Mr. Lewis answered. “In fact, several score. And all heavy, untrodden wilderness.”
“So much the better for us,” smiled Bob. “But say. How are we going to cross this wide stream? Must be nearly a quarter of a mile to the other side.”
“Hardly that,” laughed his father. “But to answer your question: if the water isn’t too deep, we’ll ford it; but if this isn’t possible, we’ll have to build rafts.”
Noko thought it advisable to cross before night and make camp on the other side.
The head native walked down to the bank and waded out into the water. Much as the explorers had expected, it was shallow, not reaching to the waist.
The whites donned their hip boots and, led by Noko, waded out into the stream. They were followed by the bearers and guards.
Although the water was sluggish and dirty, the going was good, and the adventurers reached the opposite bank in rapid time. There Bob and Joe and the naturalists removed their high boots and made ready to pitch the tents, as darkness was not far off.
“I can hardly wait to get into that Forest of Mystery,” said Joe, stopping for a moment to glance toward the west. “Something tells me we’ll see sights, all right.”
“Perhaps,” came from Bob. “But then, maybe not. It might not be much different from what we’ve already passed through.”
As the darkness enshrouded them, several of the natives built huge fires which sent their warmth far afield. The cold of the African night was soon forgotten.
Before long the odor of delicious food made the chums smack their lips in anticipation.
“Tomorrow,” remarked Mr. Holton during the meal, “we may see sights for sore eyes.”
“And tomorrow can’t come any too soon for me,” put in Joe.
Nothing happened during the night. The next morning all were up early preparing to plunge into the little-known forest. They had their belongings packed in record time and were soon again on the march.
They covered the distance to the forest sooner than expected. All felt the blood tingle in their veins as they entered the dense leafy depths. For in the fastness of this unexplored place could be almost anything.
“Keep your guns in readiness,” warned Mr. Lewis. “There’s no telling when we may need them.”
“Wish we’d see a gorilla—like that big one in the circus,” mused Joe.
“Gorillas live only in certain places, chiefly in mountainous regions,” explained Mr. Holton. “It is very unlikely that we’ll run across any. But of course we can’t be sure.”
If the jungle had been dense before, it was almost impenetrable now. More than once the explorers received cuts and bruises from sharp thorns. Their high shoes protected them from most snakes, the dreaded mamba being one exception. So, although there were difficulties of the trail, the adventurers forgot them in their eagerness to explore.
Farther on they came to something that made them gasp in wonder.
Before them, in an open space, was a large hill of earth that must have been at least forty feet high. Very wide at the base, it tapered up like a cone.
“Don’t tell us this is an ant hill,” muttered Bob, as he and the others stopped to examine it.
“It is just that,” smiled his father. “Whopper, isn’t it?”
“Biggest yet,” pronounced Joe. “And just think, it was built by countless little white ants.”
As he stood looking at the hill, Joe noticed his chum going around to one side.
“What are you going to do?” Joe inquired.
Bob answered the question by climbing the side of the hill. Apparently he found the task easy, for he was soon halfway to the top. In a short time he had reached it and was looking down at his father and friends.
“Fine view,” he smiled, gazing off into the depths of the forest. “That is, it would be if there weren’t so many trees around. One good thing, though: I can see over the bushes and jungle growth.”
“Anything worth while around here?” queried Joe.
Bob did not answer for a moment. Then suddenly his gaze remained fixed on something off in the distance.
“I believe—yes, that’s what it is.”
“What?” demanded his father impatiently. “I take it that you see something of interest.”
“There’s a big rhino away over there,” the youth said, keeping his eyes glued to the distant object.
“A rhino? Where?” Mr. Lewis looked up suddenly.
“Down that narrow trail over there,” was the answer. “It seems to be coming this way.”
“Climb down from there, Son, and we’ll investigate,” said Mr. Holton, taking his rifle. “A rhinoceros hide is what we want above everything.”
Led by the naturalists, the party followed the narrow trail that Bob had pointed out. It was well beaten, being probably long used by wild animals.
Joe, holding a movie camera, was ready to film any encounter that they might have. Bob, as usual, carried his rifle.
But when, fifteen minutes later, they saw no traces of the rhino, the explorers were ready to give up the chase. For even in that short time they had gone farther than Bob said the animal had been.
Just when they were at the point of retracing their footsteps, Joe burst through a mass of foliage and at once called the others.
“Look what I’ve found,” he said proudly. “A water hole where wild animals come to drink. See the tracks on the ground?”
“Jove!” exclaimed Mr. Holton. “That’s exactly what it is. Looks like about every animal imaginable comes to this place. Here are monkeys’ footprints. And over here are leopard tracks. Wild pigs and buffaloes have been here, too.”
Joe regarded the naturalists quizzically for a moment.
“Are we in any special hurry to go on?” he asked.
“Not especially,” returned Mr. Holton. “Why do you ask?”
“I’d like to take movies of the animals when they come here tonight to drink,” went on Joe. “Why can’t we make camp near here?”
“Hmm!” Mr. Holton considered for a minute.
“Why not do it, Howard?” asked Joe’s father. “After all, this is a wonderful opportunity for the boys to take movies. And while we’re waiting here, you and I can look around for new specimens.”
“I’m willing,” Mr. Lewis said. “We can pitch our tents a few hundred yards from here so as not to be too near and frighten the animals.”
Noko found a suitable camping spot quite a distance away. After the tents were erected he set out with Mr. Lewis to explore the surrounding country for wild life. Bob and Joe remained behind with Mr. Holton to “take it easy,” as Joe remarked.
Late that afternoon Mr. Lewis and the native returned with several interesting specimens, among them being a peculiar bird that so far as the naturalists knew was unknown to the civilized world.
“Now’s when our work comes in,” remarked Bob, as he and Joe started down the path. “We’re going to construct a thorn enclosure near that water hole. Then we can hide behind it and wait for animals to come tonight to drink. That way we can take moving pictures of them without their suspecting us.”
“Good idea,” said his father. “Need any help?”
Bob shook his head and with his chum walked to the water hole. There they built a boma, behind which they could hide. They made it look very natural, so that animals would not become suspicious.
After an early supper the naturalists and their sons went to the water hole to wait, leaving Noko behind with the safari.
Twilight came, and with it a brilliant moon. Darkness soon fell over the vast forest.
Their hearts beating rapidly, the two youths waited. They held the movie cameras ready for instant action.
“Hark!” said Mr. Lewis suddenly. “What’s that noise?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” said Bob, straining his ears to listen.
Then suddenly they heard a most unearthly sound, unlike anything they had ever known. It was repeated again and again, always more blood-curdling. Then at last it died away in horrible moanings.
It was some time before anyone spoke, for all had been not a little frightened by the uncanny cries.
“Was that a wild animal?” demanded Joe, who had almost turned pale.
“I’ve never heard any wild animal that could make that kind of a noise,” returned Mr. Holton, and Joe’s father shook his head.
“It didn’t sound like people, either,” came from Joe. “Ugh! Gives me the shivers. Maybe it was a ghost.”
Mr. Lewis tried to laugh.
“Use your reason, Son,” he said. “There aren’t any such things as ghosts.”
For the time being another much different sound made the explorers forget the mysterious cries. It was a loud trumpeting that seemed to come from but a short distance away.
“Elephants,” pronounced Mr. Holton. “They’re coming this way.”
WHILE all waited silently, the sound of moving footsteps could be heard. A little later two huge elephants broke through the foliage and made for the water hole. They drank great draughts of the refreshing liquid, and then with their long trunks sluiced themselves thoroughly.
Bob and Joe watched interestedly. They had but one fear. What if the purring of the movie cameras could be heard by the huge brutes? Would they charge the little hidden group, or would they immediately take flight into the dark recesses of the jungle?
As the moments passed, the adventurers grew more hopeful. Thus far the elephants had not heard. Perhaps, after all, the noise was not loud enough.
“Listen!” hissed Bob, catching his chum’s arm. “Something else is coming.”
He had scarcely spoken when from another direction emerged a troop of wildebeests, followed by three zebras. Still more wild creatures showed up soon after, including an oryx, Thompson’s gazelle, hartebeest, and numerous monkeys.
“Isn’t that a wonderful sight?” whispered Mr. Holton, never taking his eyes from the scene.
“Best ever,” came from Joe.
A little later they heard a series of strange grunts, and a huge wart hog moved in a slow, awkward gait toward the water hole.
“A drinking place is the best spot there is to see a number of different kinds of animals side by side,” remarked Mr. Lewis, also speaking in a very low whisper.
“They don’t seem to notice each other,” observed Joe. “They just keep on drinking as though nothing else were there.”
Again footsteps were heard, and with them the sound of a heavy body crashing through the underbrush. Then there suddenly appeared but a short distance away a monstrous buffalo, which was also intent upon satisfying its thirst.
“Be trouble now,” said Bob.
“Wait and see,” smiled his father.
Much to the boys’ surprise the buffalo paid not the slightest attention to the other animals. It found a place at the pond and began drinking.
“That’s a new one on me,” whispered Bob, and Joe nodded. “Looks like there’d be trouble, with all those different kinds of creatures there at once.”
“You see they have a common interest: to quench their thirst,” explained Mr. Lewis. “In such a case peace reigns.”
But ten minutes later the explorers—and very obviously the animals—heard something that was not so suggestive of peace. It was the deep, vibrating roar of a lion, which seemed to be coming nearer.
The effect was immediate. Uneasiness prevailed among the more harmless animals; some of them turned about and disappeared into the jungle depths, while others pricked up their ears and listened.
But there was no mistaking the distant roar. A lion was abroad stalking for prey.
As the minutes passed, Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton held their rifles ready for instant action. At every second they feared that the lion would appear. Bob and Joe, although realizing that perhaps their lives were in danger, continuing to film the scene, delighted at the unusualness of the occasion.
Suddenly the explorers’ eyes opened wide, for the thing that they beheld was exceedingly large and powerful.
A great maned lion moved slowly toward the water hole!
Their hearts in their mouths, Bob and Joe half expected to see the beast make toward their boma. But it did not.
Long before, the horde of animals that had been drinking had vanished, leaving the pond to take refuge from the king of beasts. The great lion seemed to sense that this had taken place. It uttered a tremendous roar of defiance, then bent its head to drink.
“Good chance for a shot,” murmured Bob, barely making himself heard.
But the naturalists shook their heads.
“One animal is enough to shoot from a boma,” whispered Mr. Lewis. “Somehow I feel that it doesn’t give them a fair chance.”
They watched the lion silently until the latter finally turned and left, making its way stealthily over the carpet of twigs and rotting vines. Then Mr. Holton suggested that they get back to camp.
“That ought to be about the most interesting scene we’ve filmed,” remarked Joe the next morning, as with the others he prepared to leave.
“No doubt you’ll get others when we penetrate deeper into this forest,” said his father.
Late the next afternoon Noko cast uneasy glances up at the distant sky. There was a worried look on his face as he lead the safari farther into the unknown.
“Um big storm coming,” he said with a frown.
“A storm?” breathed Bob. “Do you think it will be here today?”
Noko nodded, his face grave.
“Um storm him not wait,” the tall African said. “Storm come much soon. Sky it getting dark.”
Indeed, the signs were most threatening. The distant horizon was colored a sickly yellow, which seemed to shine ominously. Dark clouds were forming overhead and were joining slowly but surely.
“It certainly looks bad,” murmured Mr. Lewis. “We must find shelter somewhere. Where do you suggest going, Noko?”
“We find um cave or um-um hollow,” returned the head native. “That only way we get out from um storm.”
A weird silence hovered about. Birds had ceased their calls; monkeys were no longer chattering in the trees. Not the slightest suggestion of a wind played through the leaves.
Under the leadership of Noko they searched about desperately for some place that would serve as a refuge from the approaching storm. But as time passed they were still moving through the forest as before.
Mr. Lewis suggested that they erect their tents, but the tall African shook his head vigorously. A storm as bad as this one promised to be, said Noko in the native language, would most certainly tear the frail tents loose almost at once. For, he reminded them, the new rainy season was not far off.
With every passing minute the clouds banked tighter. An odd twilight enveloped the adventurers, making the task of escaping even more difficult.
At one time Bob and Joe caught a glimpse of several monkeys huddled closely together under a gigantic leaf. The little creatures would under other circumstances have inspired a smile from the youths.
“Must hurry,” urged Noko, increasing his pace still more. “Must find um cave um quick.”
Then suddenly, with the fury of a battle, the tropical hurricane was upon them!
“ABOVE all, we must try to keep together,” warned Mr. Holton, speaking to the natives as well as the whites. “It might spell tragedy if any of us should get lost from the rest.”
The rain was falling almost in torrents, soon drenching the adventurers thoroughly. Wet and miserable, they were haggard-looking creatures as they stalked through the fastness of the forest.
Great flashes of uncanny lightning streaked across the sky. They were followed by ear-splitting bursts of thunder, which resembled nothing so much as the discharging of heavy cannon. Wind—violent, ruthless wind—all but blew the explorers to the ground.
Their hearts beating rapidly, their breath coming in short gasps, they rushed as fast as possible in a wild search for some shelter from the elements. And all knew that they must find some place quickly; they could never withstand the full fury of the storm very long.
As time passed, the sky grew still darker, until it was utterly impossible to make out what was ahead. It was only when a violent streak of eerie lightning would illuminate the sky that they could see each other.
“This is terrible!” moaned Joe, struggling to brace himself against the violent gale.
The sound of his voice was drowned out, however, in the uproar of the elements. Nor could anyone else have been heard.
Bob clutched his friend’s arm and held on firmly. They would stick together through it all, he thought.
Suddenly the sky was lighted as brightly as day, and there followed a terrific clap of ear-splitting thunder. It seemed so near that the travelers jumped back instinctively.
Then they heard a great forest giant groan and creak and split at the base. It was very near them, and, not being able to see it, they feared that perhaps it would fall on them.
“Look out!” shouted Mr. Lewis, as lightning made the sky bright. “It’s coming down on us!”
Obeying the command at once, all turned and ran for their lives. It was torture unthinkable, for in the twilight it was most difficult to avoid stumbling over vines or running into trees. Still side by side, Bob and Joe followed their elders desperately, until they thought the danger was over.
Barely a few seconds later there was a terrific crash as the forest giant fell to the ground. It literally shook the earth, so violently did it strike.
“A narrow escape!” breathed Bob. “Wouldn’t have been much left of us if that had struck us.”
The youths were a little to one side of the safari and were falling behind. Realizing this, they hurried to catch up.
But just at that moment Bob’s foot caught in a creeper, and he sprawled to the ground before he could catch himself. When he fell he took Joe with him, and together they rolled over on the wet carpet of leaves and twigs.
“Hurry!” urged Joe, shouting to make himself heard. “The others are far ahead of us.”
He helped his friend to his feet and then started off toward where he thought the safari should be. But Bob called him back.
“I—I can’t make it, I guess,” Bob said, wincing with pain. “Sprained my ankle.”
Joe bent over anxiously and felt of the injured foot.
“Isn’t broken and doesn’t seem to be dislocated,” he said, straightening up. “Can’t you walk at all?”
Bob made a heroic attempt but could not move a single step.
“No use,” he said. “Just have to wait a moment, I guess. Maybe—” he stopped as a clap of thunder drowned out his voice—“it’ll quit hurting before long.”
Joe shouted at the top of his voice to his father and Mr. Holton, hoping that they would hear and stop. But it was useless. In that uproar sound would not travel any distance to speak of.
He removed his revolver from its holster and pulled the trigger. But no report followed. In some manner water had found its way to the cartridges.
Still hoping that Bob would soon be able to walk, he waited, listening to the pattering of the rain and the bursts of the thunder. If possible, the hurricane raged even more furiously than before.
A little later Bob announced that he was able to walk. With his friend he set off, slowly, of course, but surely.
But by now the chums had lost all sense of direction. They had not the slightest notion of where they could find the safari. Perhaps, for all they knew, it was moving in just an opposite direction.
Even when the surrounding forest was illuminated by streaks of lightning the boys could not see far because of the trees.
“Looks like they’re gone,” mourned Bob.
“What’ll we do?”
“Nothing that I know of, only keep on going. It seems to me that they were traveling this way, but I’m not sure.”
Blinded by the torrents of rain, bruised and cut by the countless pointed thorns and brambles, the young explorers moved along painfully, hoping against hope that they would meet up with their elders or some of the blacks.
But luck was not with them that day. With every step they were unknowingly moving farther into the depths of the unknown forest, instead of following a set course.
“Looks like we’re not going to find them,” said Joe, panting for breath. “But we won’t stop now.”
All the remainder of the afternoon the hurricane continued as violently as before. Then very slowly it began to subside, although the rain continued to fall. But at least the terrible gale was no longer blowing, and this was what had bothered the chums most.
“But where are we?” asked Joe, looking about as the darkness gave way to dim light.
The region they were in was one of the wildest they had yet seen. Gnarled, twisted trees grew in profusion; deep gulches broke the ground in a number of places; strange, odd plants, including huge ferns, were everywhere. Once they caught sight of an unusually queer animal slinking through the underbrush.
“Maybe we’re miles and miles from the safari,” said Bob in a voice of hopelessness.
“I’m afraid of hostile natives,” his chum put in. “It wouldn’t be funny to be captured and carried off into some unknown village.”
The rain had stopped completely now, but darkness was beginning to close over them. The friends dreaded the coming of night in that wild country. Alone and unable to build a fire, they would be at the mercy of savage jungle beasts.
“Suppose we stop here for the night,” suggested Joe. “I’m all in after fighting that hurricane.”
At a little elevation the youths sat down on a rotting tree trunk, glad of the chance to rest. They knew there was no use continuing the search for the safari, for the night was not far off.
Bob had a few matches in a waterproofed case, but he knew it would be useless to attempt to light a fire.
“Guess we’ll have to stick it out without anything to eat tonight,” he told his chum. “Then maybe tomorrow we’ll find our dads and the others.”
Secretly the youths feared that for them tomorrow might not come. For they were alone in the great African jungle and would be easy prey for lions and other dangerous beasts. But both had their revolvers strapped to their sides, and, although not nearly as powerful as rifles, they might spell the difference between life and death.
Soon the short-lived twilight came, followed shortly by darkness. Then the moon rose, and it was possible to see fairly well.
“I’ll take the first watch,” remarked Joe, an hour later. “You turn in and sleep for three hours or so. Then you can stand guard.”
Bob asked that he be given the first watch, but Joe would not listen. Grudgingly Bob agreed to do as suggested and was soon fast asleep.
As the night wore on, Joe heard a distant yapping of jackals. He also could make out the howls of hyenas and other animals. Then he heard another sound, and he sat up with a start.
A low growl was issuing from behind a patch of jungle growth. It was repeated again and again, always louder and more defiant.
Joe grasped his revolver thankfully and remained silent. If the creature were dangerous, he could only hope that it would keep its distance. The prospects of killing a lion or leopard with the revolver, Joe knew, were very slight.
As the minutes passed, he was beginning to think that the animal had retreated, when he suddenly became aware of stealthily moving feet. They seemed to be padding slowly toward him.
An awful fear seized Joe. If some dangerous brute were stalking him, intent upon prey, it might well be his end. But, the youth thought, raising the revolver slowly, it wouldn’t get him and Bob without being at least wounded.
The seconds went by slowly, painfully. Then, horror-stricken, Joe made out the huge body of a powerful leopard which was advancing toward him.
JOE’S mind was in a whirl. He thought of jumping up and firing point-blank at the oncoming leopard, but then he suddenly remembered that he had not been able to discharge the revolver. Perhaps the cartridges were still wet. If they were and would not fire, it would probably spell his finish.
He thought, too, of waking Bob, but he knew that this would cause a commotion, which might make the leopard charge without delay. No, Joe thought, neither of these plans would work.
Suddenly his face brightened somewhat. A wild scheme was in his mind. Would it work?
As undisturbing as possible, the boy reached into his pocket and removed the little case of matches. Protected by a tightly fitting cap, they were unaffected by the rain. His movement had been so cautious that apparently the leopard had not noticed.
Knowing that the heat of the atmosphere had dried out his shirt to a considerable degree, he resorted to a desperate measure. With a quick movement he tore the shirt from his shoulders, struck a match, and lighted the cloth.
Almost at once the tiny blaze of the match increased in size until it was quite large. When satisfied that the cloth was burning sufficiently, Joe tied it to a twig and, with all the strength he could muster, threw it at the leopard.
There was a howl of fear and pain, and then the sound of retreating footsteps. The beast had vanished into the blackness of the jungle.
Meanwhile, Bob had jumped to his feet, having been aroused by the howl. He looked inquiringly at his friend.
“Anything wrong?” he queried, removing his revolver.
“Nothing now—I hope,” Joe returned, gazing off into the forest. “A leopard was stalking us. I think he’s gone now.”
“Really? Is it gone? What did you do?”
Joe told of what had happened. When he had finished, his chum regarded him admiringly.
“Good for you, old boy,” praised Bob, patting his friend on the back. “I’d have never thought of doing anything like that. But now suppose I take up the watch for a while. I’ll keep on the lookout for that leopard.”
But Joe refused, saying that his watch was not yet over.
“I’ll call you later,” he said, and Bob again retired.
Toward the end of his guard Joe heard a mysterious cry, similar to that he had heard several days before. It was most blood-curdling, sending chills down his spine. Whether it was of animal or human origin the youth had no idea.
Bob too heard the unearthly sound later during his watch, and was as frightened as his chum had been.
“The Forest of Mystery!” he breathed, looking about rather fearfully. “Certainly seems mysterious. Things could be happening right at this minute that nobody knows anything about.”
At the first streak of dawn Bob awoke Joe, although the latter was still very sleepy.
“Let me wait a little bit longer,” pleaded the latter, rubbing his eyes.
But Bob stoutly refused.
“We’ll just have to get going again,” he said. “Have to find our dads and the others as soon as we can.”
Joe knew that this was necessary, and so arose without saying anything further.
The boys were obliged to begin the day without any breakfast, although both were ravenously hungry. They saw several small animals dart across their path, but decided to lose no time in shooting them. Delay, they knew, might mean tragedy to them.
They had not the slightest notion of which way to go in search of the safari, but they agreed to strike out to the west, as that was the direction previously taken.
Along toward noon Bob called his chum over to a little clearing.
“Look at that strange track,” he pointed out. “Was that made by a wild animal?”
“Search me,” Joe said. “I never saw anything like it before. Looks like the footprint of a person, only it’s much larger, and there aren’t any toe marks.”
The youths recalled the different animals they had come in contact with and read about. But none, they were sure, could make footprints anything like this.
“I’m sure that couldn’t have been a monkey—even a gorilla,” said Bob, “because there would be marks of its toes.”
“Let’s get out of here,” murmured Joe a bit fearfully. “Who knows what kind of a creature that might have been?”
They left the spot and plunged on through the forest. Bob removed his revolver and fired two shots, hoping that they could be heard by the safari. He refrained from firing more because of the possibility of needing the bullets in an emergency.
All morning they hiked on, paying little or no attention to the country they were passing through. They observed with interest, however, the results of the hurricane. Tall trees were lying about, having been struck by lightning; numerous small dead animals could be seen.
By noon their hunger had become almost unbearable. Joe managed to shoot a large duck-like bird, which was at once roasted over a fire. To the two starved boys, the taste was delicious.
They stopped only long enough to eat the meal, for every minute of delay was maddening to them.
“We’ve just got to find our party today,” said Bob, gritting his teeth. “If we don’t, they’ll move so far away that we never will find them.”
Joe nodded.
“But then,” he reminded his friend, “maybe they’ll stick around this vicinity. They’re probably looking for us, too, don’t forget. We’ll just——”
He ceased abruptly and suddenly turned pale.
The reason was not far to seek. A huge spear had whizzed past his head, missing it by only a very few inches!
For some time neither of the youths spoke. They stared fearfully into the green depths of the forest whence the spear had been thrown.
Then, seeing no signs of natives, Bob broke the silence.
“What do you think?” he asked in a low voice, never taking his eyes from the jungle.
Joe waited a moment before replying. He had not yet recovered from the horror that had seized him.
“I—I don’t know what to think,” he said tensely. “Savages, cannibals, maybe.”
“But why don’t they attack us?” asked Bob, greatly puzzled.
“More than I know.”
The youths remained where they were for several minutes, fearful to move on for fear of being struck from behind. But when after quite a while nothing more happened they concluded it was safe to go on.
All through the afternoon they kept a close lookout for savages but saw none. Nor did they see any traces of human habitation. With every step they became more mystified. Who had thrown the spear? What was the object in throwing it? Why had the chums not been attacked?
“This doggone Forest of Mystery gets on my nerves,” said Joe, as late that afternoon they stopped beside a small spring. “Oh, if we could only find our safari!”
After replenishing their water bottles, which were strapped tightly over their shoulders, the young adventurers continued their frantic search.
At a little open space they suddenly caught sight of something that made them gasp in wonder.
Moving awkwardly from behind a low hill was the strangest creature they had ever laid eyes on. It was an unusually small elephant—all white!
“WHAT do you know about that?” muttered Joe Lewis, staring at the animal. “A white pigmy elephant! Wouldn’t our dads be tickled if they could see it?”
“That’s an idea,” said Bob quickly. “Why can’t we shoot it for them?”
Joe laughed.
“Impossible,” he said. “Why, these revolver cartridges wouldn’t even stop it, let alone kill it. Not much chance of doing that. Then too, we want to find our party.”
But Bob persisted.
“I tell you we can get that elephant some way,” he went on. “As for finding the safari, well—I don’t believe a few minutes’ delay would make much difference. And I feel sure we’ll find them before long. But right now let’s get that elephant.”
“But how?” demanded the other.
The animal was about twenty yards away and seemed not to notice the human invaders. And the wind was blowing away from it, so that it could not get their scent.
As silently as they could the boys crept along through the tall grass, keeping their revolvers in readiness. Bob led the way, confident that he could manage to get an effective shot.
When within five yards of it, the young hunters stopped and waited. The little elephant had its back toward them, making it impossible to fire.
Then it turned and faced them, perhaps sensing danger.
“Now!” said Bob, and together the youths fired, aiming at the eyes.
Without an outcry the elephant fell, writhed about for a second, and then was still.
“Yay!” cried Bob. “Killed it instantly. Both of those bullets found their way to the brain. And,” facing his chum, “you said it couldn’t be done.”
“I’m sorry,” grinned Joe. “I guess there isn’t anything we can’t do, eh, Bob?”
The youths hardly knew what to do with the carcass. They could not take the time to skin it, and yet they knew hyenas and vultures would soon appear if it were left where it was.
Finally they decided to do a quick job of skinning it, although perhaps they could not perform the task as well as it should be done.
Using their hunting knives, they hastily ripped off the white hide, which they were finally able to move several yards from the carcass. Then they gathered thorn bushes and surrounded it by an impenetrable boma. Over the hide as well as around it they placed several thicknesses of thorns and brambles.
“Maybe that’ll keep the vultures and hyenas away,” said Joe, as he turned to leave. “Now, if we can just find the safari.”
For a half hour the boys trudged on, their hopes slowly becoming lessened. At frequent intervals they fired their revolvers, stopping shortly after to listen.
On one occasion Bob thought he heard a shout but was not sure. Again he fired, and again he listened.
Sure enough, a faint cry was breaking the vast stillness. It was repeated again and again, and then came the sound of a rifle shot.
“It’s our party!” cried Joe happily. “They’ve heard us.”
“Come,” said Bob, setting off at a rapid pace. “Let’s hurry.”
Five minutes later the chums broke through the foliage and faced none other than Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton.
“Boys!” cried Bob’s father, his joy beyond words. “We’ve found you at last!”
Mr. Lewis was equally affected.
“We were afraid something happened to you,” he said, patting them affectionately. “We didn’t see how you could possibly go through this forest unharmed. Especially with all the strange things here.”
“Just what do you mean by that?” demanded Bob, wondering if the naturalists had also seen or heard unexplainable phenomena.
“What I said,” returned Mr. Lewis, his face grave. “Howard and I heard all kinds of mysterious noises from the depths of the forest. We haven’t any idea what they were. And there’s something else that we haven’t been able to explain.”
“What was that?” inquired Joe, thoroughly interested.
“Last night we saw a strange phosphorescence very near our camp,” his father resumed. “It shone quite brilliantly, and we weren’t able to tell what caused it. We played our flashlights on it, but could make out nothing. Some trick of nature, I suppose.”
“You weren’t the only ones to see mysterious things,” said Joe, and then told of the peculiar footprint and of the long spear that had so nearly ended his life.
When he had finished, the naturalists looked grave.
“You boys certainly had a thrilling experience,” Mr. Holton said. “Of course,” he went on, “there’s an explanation to everything that has happened. Whether we’ll be able to delve into it we have yet to see.”
“But there’s something else that will interest you,” put in Bob. “Joe and I shot a white pigmy elephant.”
“What? Not fooling us, are you?”
“Come, and we’ll show you,” said Bob, and led the way through the forest.
When they finally reached the spot, they found the boma just as they had built it. The carcass, however, had been torn to pieces by vultures and hyenas.
The youths removed the thorn and bramble bushes from the enclosure and then turned to get the elephant skin.
To their great surprise, it was gone!
“Of all things!” exclaimed Bob, rubbing his forehead in perplexity. “That skin has disappeared as if by magic!”
Joe glanced at his chum, then at the boma. He looked around the other side, but the white skin was nowhere in sight. Finally he straightened up, a look of supreme bewilderment on his face.
“Gone sure enough,” he said.
“Are you certain you put it there?” inquired Mr. Holton.
“Certainly we did,” Bob assured him. “What I can’t understand is why the boma wasn’t torn to pieces. If some wild animal——”
“Maybe it wasn’t a wild animal,” put in Joe.
“Then—what could it have been?”
“Beyond me.” Joe had no suggestion of an idea.
The two naturalists took up where their sons had left off and searched the vicinity of the boma. But they had to admit defeat.
“Another mystery to add to our already long list,” commented Mr. Lewis. “It seems that there is no end to them.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Mr. Holton suddenly, “natives got that skin. They could have been watching the boys place it there. And they could have covered up the thorn enclosure just as it was.”
“Possibly,” came from Mr. Lewis. “But now let’s get back to camp. We’ll have some busy days before us.”
Noko and the other natives gave Bob and Joe a royal welcome on seeing them alive and well. For none knew better than the blacks the dangers of a tropical hurricane.
The two naturalists had already collected a large number of specimens. During the days that followed they added more, many of which were unknown.
Bob and Joe did their share of collecting, bringing down not a few curious wild creatures. They also spent their time in taking motion pictures of the wild country about them.
On one occasion they left camp on an all-day trip, taking two of the bearers with them. They hoped to photograph unusual scenes and perhaps solve some of the mysteries that so bewildered them.
They were following a strictly compassed course, so as to take no chance of becoming lost from the others. Their previous experience had taught them to have even more respect for the great African forest.
When the sun was overhead, they sat in the shade of a great raffia palm, to escape the heat and partake of lunch.
Joe gazed off rather absently through the trees. Suddenly his jaw dropped.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bob in surprise. “What do you see?”
“Look away over there,” Joe pointed out. “See that high ant hill?”
“Why—yes. And look. There’s a hut on top of it. Who do you suppose lives there?”
“Let’s go and see.”
Together the young explorers trekked through the forest until they came to the ant hill. The latter was all of thirty feet in height, and built firmly on its summit was a small thatched hut.
“Boy, this is a mystery,” murmured Bob. “Shall we go up and investigate?”
“I’m willing.”
There was a crude ladder running up the side of the ant hill. Up this the chums made their way. They feared at every moment that the ladder might collapse with their weight.
“Keep a hand on your revolver,” warned Bob. “There’s no telling what may be in that hut. Maybe some savage is asleep there, for all we know.”
When halfway to the top, they heard a shout from below.
Looking down they saw a man—a white man!
“THOMAS Seabury!” cried Bob and Joe almost in one breath, recognizing the man from a picture his brother had shown them in Mombasa.
They scrambled down the ladder in all haste, forgetting danger, forgetting everything.
“My name!” the man exclaimed in a bewildered voice. “How, may I ask, did you young men get hold of it?”
Mr. Seabury was rather a small man, with long gray hair and a heavy beard. His fine face bore the look of a scholar.
“We’ve been hunting for you,” Joe told him. “Your brother, back in Mombasa, asked us to be on the lookout for you.”
“Then—he is not here?”
“No,” returned Bob. He did not think it wise to add that George Seabury had been injured by a rhino. “He couldn’t come with us, but we promised to be on watch for you.”
The man reeled as if to fall. Then he got a grip on himself.
“At last,” he murmured, breathing heavily, “I have seen a white person.”
“Were you lost?” inquired Joe.
“Lost, yes. And worse than lost,” returned Mr. Seabury grimly. “I was captured by hostile savages and was about to be sacrificed in their horrid rites. But I managed to slip off in the night and escape from their village. It was a horrible experience—wandering through this trackless forest. I had given myself up for lost when I happened to find this hut. Who built it I do not know. But it had food stored away, and I ate it at once.”
“How long have you been here?” asked Joe. “In this vicinity, I mean.”
“Only two days,” Seabury replied. “Though it seems more like two years. I held not the slightest hope of seeing any white person. In fact, I fully expected to die a slow death from hunger. But now,” he continued in a lighter tone, “I am saved.”
“It was just luck that we found you,” Bob said. “My friend here—— Wait. Pardon us for not introducing ourselves. This is Joe Lewis, and my name is Holton—Bob Holton.”
Thomas Seabury extended a hand, which the youths clasped warmly.
“As I was saying,” resumed Bob, “Joe happened to see this ant hill. We came over to investigate.”
“I am only too thankful that you did,” the man said. “But how did you happen to be here? What are you doing in Africa?”
“We’re with our dads,” Joe told him. “Came to collect specimens of wild animals and birds. And now, Mr. Seabury, suppose we go back to camp. That is, if you’re ready.”
“I am more than ready,” was the answer. “Camp is a word that sounds better to me than ’most any I can think of.”
They found the two natives waiting. The latter displayed unusual surprise at seeing another white man in that vast jungle. Mr. Seabury fell to talking with them, telling them in their own language of his experience.
Back at camp, which they finally reached, Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton met them.
“But look who we’ve found,” said Joe happily. “Thomas Seabury.”
“Well, what in the——” Mr. Lewis could hardly believe his eyes, while Bob’s father was no less surprised.
Joe introduced Mr. Seabury to the naturalists and then told of how he and his chum had found the missing man.
“Good for you, boys,” praised Mr. Holton. “If you hadn’t found him, perhaps he wouldn’t have been found.”
“I wonder if I am dreaming,” said Mr. Seabury. “If I am, I never want to wake up.”
The youths’ fathers spent the remainder of the day in telling of their experiences since leaving Mombasa and in listening to Seabury’s.
But the next morning all were up early preparing for an extensive hunt for specimens. Bob and Joe with their cameras, and the scientists with their rifles, left camp and headed southward, with several of the bearers following.
They had not gone far when they became aware of a deep drumming noise, which seemed to roll along the ground.
“What’s that?” asked Bob, becoming worried. “Savages?”
Mr. Seabury, who was with them, nodded.
“I have often heard the noise,” he said, “and I believe it is made by natives. But they are probably a great distance off. I don’t believe we are in any danger.”
All during the hunt the adventurers could hear the deep vibrating of drums, but as it seemed to get no nearer they thought no more about it.
Back at camp they saw a group of strange natives, their faces streaked with white paint, talking with Noko and the bearers. At first the explorers hesitated to move on into camp for fear that trouble was at hand. But they finally concluded that it would be safe.
“What’s up, Noko?” inquired Mr. Holton.
The tall black seemed glad his masters had returned.
“Him want sell you um kidogo [little] white elephant skin,” Noko said.
“A white elephant skin?” demanded Bob suddenly. “Let’s see it.”
The natives seemed to regard the youths in some surprise. But they soon did as asked, producing the white elephant skin.
At sight of it Bob and Joe uttered startled exclamations.
“Why, that’s the one we killed!” cried Bob angrily. “See. There’s where our bullets entered the head.”
“You’re right, Bob,” said Mr. Lewis, after a moment of examining the skin.
“Ask them where they got it,” said Joe.
The naturalists put the question before the natives in their own language. They replied that they had speared it several miles from there, and, having heard of the safari, went to see if they could sell it.
“They’re big liars!” stormed Bob, when this had been translated. “That white elephant skin belongs to us. And,” he added with determination, “we’re going to have it without pay!
“Tell those savages to get out of here, Noko,” he said. “Tell them that if they don’t they’ll wish they had.” He removed his revolver from its holster and, as Noko talked, flashed it before the savages.
When Noko had finished translating, the savages grew furiously angry. They advanced threateningly toward the explorers, paying no attention to Bob’s gun.