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Title: The Rogue Elephant
       The Boys' Big Game Series

Author: Elliott Whitney

Illustrator: Fred J. Arting

Release Date: May 12, 2008 [EBook #25450]

Language: English

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The Boys' Big Game Series

THE ROGUE ELEPHANT




        The
        Boys'
        Big
        Game
        Series

[Illustration]

        =THE GIANT MOOSE.= The monarch of the big
        Northwest; a story told over camp fires in the
        reek of cedar smoke and the silence of the
        barrens.

        =THE WHITE TIGER OF NEPAL.= The weird story of
        the man-killer of the foothills. Tinged with
        the mysticism of India, dramatic and stirring.

        =THE BLIND LION OF THE CONGO.= A story of the
        least known part of the earth and its most
        feared beast. A gripping tale of the land of
        the white pigmies.

        =THE KING BEAR OF KADIAK ISLAND.= A tale of the
        bully of the Frozen North and his mysterious
        guardian. A game-and-man-story that makes a
        good boy-story.

        =THE ROGUE ELEPHANT.= A big game hunt that
        leads into strange lands and stranger
        adventures in a real big game country.

        _Remarkable covers and four-color jackets.
        Illustrations and cover designs by Dan Sayre
        Groesbeck_

Price 60 cents each

        Publishers    The Reilly & Britton Co.      Chicago


[Illustration: It seemed that the great beast was towering over him,
reaching for him with that terrible trunk. Then he drew a careful bead
on the left fore-shoulder.]




THE ROGUE ELEPHANT

BY

ELLIOTT WHITNEY

Illustrated by Fred J. Arting

        The Reilly & Britton Co.
        Chicago




        COPYRIGHT, 1913
        by
        THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.


        THE ROGUE ELEPHANT




CONTENTS


CHAPTER                           PAGE

    I A CHANCE "OUT"                 9

   II OFF FOR THE FRONT             21

  III QUILQUA THE MYSTERIOUS        33

   IV MAKING READY                  46

    V THE FIRST HUNT                59

   VI MOUNT KENIA                   71

  VII ELEPHANT                      83

 VIII A RECONNAISSANCE              95

   IX INTO THE UNKNOWN             108

    X MOWBRAY'S END                120

   XI THE DESERT TREK              133

  XII A DESERTED LAND              145

 XIII A DESPERATE BATTLE           158

  XIV THE LAKE OF MYSTERY          170

   XV "UNDER THE LEFT GATE-POST"   182

  XVI SELIM SHOWS HIS TEETH        194

 XVII FRESH SPOOR                  206

XVIII LOST!                        218

  XIX THE ROGUE ELEPHANT           230

  XX THE BACK TRAIL                242




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  It seemed that the great beast was towering
    over him, reaching for him with that terrible
    trunk. Then he drew a careful bead on the
    left fore-shoulder.              _Frontispiece_

  Everything else was forgotten in the novel
    method of riding.                  _Page 54_

  For the man, just as he relapsed into unconsciousness,
    murmured four words:
    "Help--me debbil man!"            _Page 118_

  One slash of the knife, and out trickled a
    little stream of yellow grains into the brown
    fist of the explorer.                  _Page 192_




The Rogue Elephant




CHAPTER I

A CHANCE "OUT"


"You are so crazy as a loon! Boys? Boys to such a drip dake? Nein!"

Von Hofe excitedly pounded the table until the attendants at the
Explorers' Club stared. Then he leaned back determinedly and lighted his
meerschaum. The lean, bronzed man who sat opposite pushed away his maps
with a smile.

"You misunderstand, von Hofe. I know both these boys personally and
vouch for them. You have agreed that this is to be no milk-and-water
trip, with hundreds of porters bearing bath tubs and toilet water, but
that we shall live off the land as we go. That right?"

The German nodded amid a cloud of smoke.

"You want me to take you into the elephant country and shoot your
specimens. I have agreed to do this. I know Africa and I can do it. You
are paying the expenses of the trip, but that is immaterial. If we
hitch up, von Hofe, it will be on the understanding that I am in command
of this expedition; that I choose those I want to go along, and that you
are with me to prepare your specimens and nothing else. Now you can take
it or leave it--that's final."

The elderly German paused before replying, the two men searching each
other's faces quietly. As most people have it, the famous Dr. Gross von
Hofe was a "taxidermist." The average "stuffer," the man who simply
covers and replaces the bones of the specimen with excelsior or cotton,
is properly named taxidermist, but von Hofe was an artist, known the
world over for his wonderful work. In various museums of the world you
may see his models, signed like the masterpieces of other artists, of
rare and disappearing animals from the distant quarters of the earth,
frozen in action, with the setting of the trees, grass, sand or water of
their native haunts.

The other, somewhat younger than the famous artist in skin and bone, was
an American of German descent--Louis Schoverling. He was one of that
little class of world-wanderers, who have barely enough money to carry
them about the earth's strange places, hunting and exploring, gradually
pushing the frontier of civilization back into the savage quarters of
the world, and most happy when self-dependent and forced to rely on gun
or hook for a day's meal.

So when Dr. von Hofe was commissioned by two celebrated museums to visit
East Africa and secure for each a family group of elephants--tusker
bull, calf, and cow--it was natural that he should come to the New York
Explorers' Club for a helper and guide. There he had picked on Louis
Schoverling--or "the General," as his fellow-explorers had laughingly
dubbed him after the failure of a certain South American revolution--to
take him to the tuskers. Dr. von Hofe was not a hunter and he knew it.
So Schoverling had agreed to go, not for the money in the trip, but for
the excitement of it.

"I see," returned the big German at last, "why your comrades call you
'the General.' You are right. You shall take whom you like, und if I say
you are crazy as a loon, it makes no difference. You are satisfied?"

"Quite," laughed the American. "When do we start?"

"Three weeks from to-day," returned the other, whose English was perfect
save in moments of excitement. "I have a group to finish for the
Metropolitan here. Then we go."

"All right. I'll meet you up here three weeks from to-day, with my
friends, at twelve sharp."

Such was the interesting prelude to the letter which came to Charlie
Collins at Calgary, Canada, five days later. Charlie was one of the boys
whom the General had proposed to take with him to Africa. Born in Nova
Scotia, he had tramped his way across the continent at the age of
seventeen, when his father died. Catching the Peace River fever he had
made his way back to Calgary, then up to Peace River Landing, where he
went to work to make enough money to turn homesteader. At this juncture
Schoverling had met him while on a hunting trip. The General had become
keenly interested in the boy, whose ambitions were high. Charlie was
accustomed to depending on himself, which caught the explorer's fancy.
He had knocked the homesteading notion out of Charlie's head and got him
a position at Calgary, where he was now learning the trade of
electrician.

So when Charlie walked into the office on that Saturday morning and
found a bulky letter from the Explorers' Club, he tore it open in keen
anticipation. For five minutes he stood reading in amazement; then he
uttered a yell that brought the eyes of the office force down on him,
and rushed to the paymaster's desk.

"Give me my time, Mr. Clarke!" he cried, his gray eyes and pleasant,
healthy face denoting high excitement. "I've got to quit right off!"

"What's the matter? Fallen heir to a million?" laughed the man behind
the window, who was used to his men quitting at a moment's notice.

"Better than that! Jumping sandhills! I'm going to Africa!" almost
shouted the boy, as he grabbed his pay envelope and put for the door.

"Hey! Better take your hat!" shouted some one, and Charlie made a quick
return for his forgotten headgear, then vanished. When he found himself
in his boarding-house room with the door locked, he flung off his coat
and settled down to read over once more the wonderful letter. It was
written in the customary vein of the explorer--as if he was talking to
his reader.

"_My dear Charlie_:--

"_Draw your time and beat it for New York. Meet me at the Explorers'
Club at noon of the 22nd. Bring Jack Sawtooth ditto. You don't know him
but you will soon. We're going to Africa--sail the night of the 22nd, so
hump yourself, old man!_

"_First for the expedition. Remember asking me once why all explorers
couldn't live off the land, as we did up the Mackenzie that winter? I
said then that it could be done, and you're going to help prove me right
in Africa. We're going to hunt elephant--not where you get them driven
up while you sit in a camp-chair, either. We're going after bulls,
rogues, the big fellows who live solitary, soured on life in general. We
have to get two at least, for museums._

"_Never mind an outfit. Don't need your snowshoes, of course. Jack will
bring some knee-high moosehide moccasins--no machine-made junk, either.
I'm getting the guns. Bring six of those Canadian lynx or fox steel
traps. Can't seem to find 'em here, and they'll be useful._

"_Have wired and written Sawtooth. He's a quarter-breed--hold on, old
scout! Wait till he looks you up; Sunday, I expect. Jack is seventeen,
looks like a white--and is white clear through. Next to you he's the
hardiest and gamest ever. Got me skinned a mile on the trail. Educated
at the Mission School. You'll like him. He's not sensitive on his blood,
but rather proud of it._"

Charlie paused and grinned to himself. He did not share the prejudice of
a "tenderfoot" against the half-breeds. He knew well enough that as in
any race a good, manly Cree or Salteaux was rather above the average
white man in point of character.

"_Jack has to get down from Mirror Landing, so give him a couple of
days' leeway. You have plenty of time, I judge. Better fetch H. B. C.
blankets; nights are cold in Africa, and we might strike into the
mountains. The trip doesn't promise any more than expenses, but there is
always a chance that we can trade or clean up on a bit of ivory. Once we
get together we can go over the route and all that. However, the
experience is worth while, and it's the best kind of an education. If we
pull out ahead of the game you may have a stake to start in some kind of
business for yourself._

"_Check enclosed to cover expenses to New York. Don't buy any gold
bricks when you strike Broadway! And don't let Jack scalp anyone on
board the Overland._

                                        "_Yours in haste,_
                                              "_Louis Schoverling._"

Charlie slowly folded up the letter and stared out of the window for a
moment.

"Jumping sandhills!" he murmured softly, and turned to where "the
General" hung framed on his wall. "What a prince of a friend you are to
a fellow! I guess I'll give you a bit of a surprise myself, just the
same!"

Eight months before, when Schoverling had gone "out," as the saying is
up there, he had left Charlie in Calgary. The boy had little knowledge
of the ways of the city, but after parting with his new-found friend he
had thrown himself into his new life, grimly determined that he would
make good. And he had. In the day he had worked at his new trade, in the
evening he had plugged away at night-school, making up for lost time. He
had doffed his flannel shirt and timber boots for the garb of the city,
and as he looked at himself in the glass that morning he grinned again.

The next day Jack Sawtooth showed up, tired out, fresh from the
wilderness. He had received the General's telegram three days before,
had not stopped for the letter following, but had said farewell to his
father and joined a freight sledge down to Athabasca Landing, to seek
out Charlie at Calgary.

"Glad to meet you," exclaimed Charlie when his visitor was dubiously
announced by his landlady. The Cree boy was lithe, straight as an arrow,
open-browed and keen of eye, with none of the somber gravity of his
Indian blood. "I hardly thought you'd get here so quickly."

"I didn't know what was up," smiled Jack. "Say, this is a neat little
room! Where did you get the bead-work? Why, you must be an old-timer!
Mr. Schoverling has not written me very often, and only mentioned you a
few times."

"I've knocked around quite a bit," admitted Charlie, glancing at the
Indian bead-work and the pictures of camp and trail that hung on his
wall. "Don't you know where we're going?"

The other shook his head.

"We're going elephant hunting in Africa," laughed Charlie. Jack stared
at him.

"Africa? Say, Collins, don't try to give me heart-failure that way! What
is it now, honest?"

"You wait," chuckled Charlie, bringing out the explorer's letter and
reading over all that related to the trip. Not until Jack had set eyes
on it himself would he believe that Charlie was in earnest. Then he sat
back and stared again.

"Me--in Africa! Great Scott, am I dreaming or just crazy? Does he mean
it?"

Charlie produced the good-sized check in evidence, and Jack's amazement
soon gave way to calm acceptance of the situation.

"Then we'll go to Africa, unless I wake up and find myself snowed in
somewhere along the trap line. When do we go?"

"Catch the Overland to-night, if you're ready," returned Charlie
promptly. Jack gave a single glance at the other's neat clothing and
shook his head.

"Not much. I got enough attention coming through town," and he pointed
to the jack he had deposited in the corner. "Look here, Chuck," he fell
readily into the common abbreviation for Charlie then prevalent, "you
fit me out with a rig like yours, in the morning. You know the ropes and
I don't. Then I'll pack up those heavy moccasins I brought along and we
can take the train to-morrow night. No great rush, is there?"

"Guess not," grinned Charlie, inwardly delighted at the good sense of
his new comrade. "But we'll probably get an outfit in New York. Look
here, Jack, I got a new suit of rough tweed last week, and won't need it
now. If you don't mind, you could have that as well as not. We're built
about the same. Hang on to the hickory shirt, though. We'll probably use
'em. In the meantime I've got enough reg'lar shirts to hold us, and we
can dig out on the train to-night if you say."

"Suits me," answered Jack, beaming. "I'm much obliged, old man, for
helping me out! Now I'll have to drop dad a note telling him about it,
and can write him later from the train. Got any paper handy?"

With much interest Charlie watched the other scribble a hasty note in
weird-looking characters. Jack explained that his father could read the
Cree writing-language invented by Bishop Grouard, but not English. The
more Charlie saw of his new friend, the better he liked him, and the two
boys soon fell into a close friendship that was destined to be tested by
land and sea, in more ways than either of them imagined.

"Dad will have a fit when he reads that," laughed Jack. "He'd trust me
anywhere with Mr. Schoverling, though. They used to know each other when
Schoverling was in the Hudsons Bay Company, years ago. Where'll you cash
that check?"

"Hotel," returned Charlie. "They know me at the Alberta."

Jack was soon fixed up with "store clothes," the traps and moccasins
were packed in two grips, Charlie arranged with his landlady to pack up
his stuff and store it for him, and that night the two went
"out"--aboard the Limited that would bear them across the continent.




CHAPTER II

OFF FOR THE FRONT


The enthusiastic boys reached New York long before the three weeks were
up, but the General--as they came to call him, like everyone else--was
not in evidence. He had left letters for them at the Explorers' Club,
however, and had arranged for them to get a room there until his
arrival.

At two minutes to twelve some days later he stepped out of the elevator
and entered the library, where Charlie and Jack were waiting in no
little dismay. The meeting was a joyful one all around.

"Me?" laughed the General, in answer to their rapid-fire questions. "Oh,
I've been in Washington, getting some letters to pave the way for us.
But where's von Hofe? He was to meet us at noon."

"Well, is he not here?" came a heavy voice from behind, and von Hofe
entered with a broad smile on his bearded face. "You did not say five
minutes before the hour, or one minute after the hour, so that I came
on the hour--ach! Let go mine hant! I am a man, not a wood or stone
image!"

Neither Charlie nor Jack had known, of course, who was behind the
expedition, for the General had omitted any mention of von Hofe in his
haste. But as it chanced, Charlie had been reading an article that
morning which described the wonderful work done by von Hofe, and his
contributions to science. So, when Schoverling introduced him, the
astonished Charlie let out his accustomed expression, as he shook hands.

"Jumping sandhills! Are you the chap I was reading about this
morning--the man who makes photos and sketches of animals before they're
shot an' then mounts 'em the same way? Was it you who swiped the skin of
a sacred white elephant out o' Siam, an'--"

"Ach, what liars these newspapers are!" But the steel-blue eyes twinkled
forth from beneath the bushy yellow-gray brows, and Charlie's heart
leaped as he realized that this great man must be going with them.

"You are not such foolish looking boys," decided the German, nodding his
head. "Herr Schoverling, they haf the look in the eyes, the look of the
dependable-upon men. I apologize. You are not crazy as a loon. Now we
haf much to talk over, and we are hungry, I hope?"

"We certainly are," smiled the General, leading the way toward a private
dining room which was reserved for them. Jack whispered delightedly in
his friend's ear as they followed, "You catch-um that beard?"

Charlie grinned at the Chinook expression and nodded.

"He's a peach, Jack! Say, we're goin' to have the time of our lives,
believe me!"

Luncheon was devoted to story-telling. Schoverling related tales of his
adventures when he had joined the H. B. C. in Canada as a boy, serving
his four years; the doctor jovially gave the story of certain adventures
in South Africa, and Jack chipped in with a relation of Indian legend
from the far north, relating to the mammoths which were said to be still
alive somewhere in the frozen regions. This last, which was backed up by
the explorer, interested von Hofe immensely; but at length the meal was
done with, the table cleared, and they were alone with their coffee.

Schoverling drew forth a huge map, which he spread out on the table. On
it was a route heavily marked in red ink, and he pointed to this as he
spoke.

"I got this map from a friend of mine, in Washington at present, who was
up there last year stealing ivory. It's not considered at all bad, boys,
among a certain class of hunters, to make a raid into the protected
regions and loot all the tusks they can get. Well, this is the latest
map of British East Africa, divested of all that is thrown in by chaps
who like to fill up blank spaces with names.

"Down here south and east of Lake Rudolph, you see, is the Northern Game
Preserve. It is more or less indefinite, extending up to the Abyssinian
border. This chap I'm speaking of went dead across it, as you can see.
Incidentally, he landed in Abyssinia, which is another story.

"Now, Dr. von Hofe and I have secured permits to get the beasts we are
after for scientific purposes. Coming back to the Uganda Railway, here
is Nairobi, you see. We'll go just where this friend of mine went--on to
Nakuro, then up to the Leikipia hills and through them into the Game
Preserve--"

"To Abyssinia?" cried Charlie, leaning forward "Are we going--"

"We are nod," interrupted von Hofe, his deep voice roaring through his
meerschaum smoke. "You will keep very still, if you please!"

Charlie was undecided whether to resent it or not, until he caught a
wink from Jack and his quick anger was dissipated instantly.

"No," smiled the General, "we need not fear to return through British
territory, for our permits are pretty general. Now let's get back to
this map. Here is Mt. Marsabit, straight north of Kenia. Midway between
the two we will branch off my friend's route and go over toward the
Lorian Swamp. That's unknown country, except to the ivory raiders, and
they keep their mouths shut; but that's where the elephants are.

"Does that suit you, Doctor? We could stick closer to civilization, of
course, but we wouldn't get the big bulls. Besides, I'd like to do a bit
of exploring in there. Some mighty queer yarns have come out of that
country lately."

The big Teuton emitted a dense cloud of smoke before answering.

"You are not to worry about suiting me, my friend. What I want is bulls,
such bulls as have never come to this country. Perhaps I will change my
mind and go to the North Pole for those mammoth. Ach, what a thing! To
bring a mammoth down, skin him, photograph him, mount him for the
Smithsonian! What more could a man want?"

"Bosh!" exclaimed the General. "That's all been exploded long ago. Now,
we're going to cut out the usual gang of porters and chiefs. I guess we
can get along from village to village well enough. Bring those traps and
moccasins, boys?"

"They're up in our rooms," answered Jack. "How about clothes?"

"All gone on board ship," smiled Schoverling. Charlie had already noted
his appreciative glance at their first meeting, and Jack was now feeling
quite at home in his new garments.

They were going from New York straight to Alexandria on a steamer of a
Greek line, which would give the boys a brief glimpse of Athens en
route. At Alexandria they would pick up an East Coast steamer to
Mombasa.

With this the discussion was closed, but Charlie and Jack put forth an
eager question as to their armament, which they had more than once
discussed in wild anticipation. The General smiled, comprehending their
eagerness.

"The doctor has absolutely refused to touch a gun from start to finish,
boys, so that puts it up to us. I had everything we would need. There is
a double-barrelled 500-405 Holland for each of us--which of course we
won't use on anything but elephants. Two of them are mine, and one was
loaned me for the trip. For ordinary use we will carry our 30-30s, and a
number twelve shotgun. Those, with a suit case each, make up all our
luggage. Any trunks, Doctor?"

"Trunks?" The blond German glared over his beard in surprise. "Would I
preserve elephant hide with air? No, but I have eleven cases of
chemicals, which you must take."

"Very well--that will make about twenty porters," commented the explorer
quietly. "I think we'll have a mighty interesting time if we carry out
my original program of living off the country. Anything more to settle?"

As nothing more seemed to present itself, the meeting was declared
adjourned. Von Hofe shook hands with the boys, put away his big pipe,
and retired to write some letters. As both Charlie and Jack had seen all
of New York that they cared about, Mr. Schoverling spent the afternoon
at the club with them, showing and explaining the cases full of savage
arms, relics and curios which had been contributed by the explorers and
scientists who formed the club. He introduced them to many of its famous
members, a few of whom they had already met while waiting for him. It
was an informal, cosy place, and during their stay the boys enjoyed
themselves immensely.

As the news spread about of the General's proposed trip, a number of men
who had been in Africa promptly carried all three off to the library and
there ensued a high discussion. Most of them flatly declared that living
on the land might be possible, but that moccasins and traps were absurd.

"But why?" laughed the General. "You fellows wear puttees and leather
breeches to keep dry, and safe from scratches or snakes. Moccasins are
equally as good, especially high ones like ours, and a whole lot more
comfortable. You chaps who go in for big game with all the comforts of
home don't know what real work is like!"

This good-natured taunt happened to hit most of those around, and the
situation looked stormy until a little, awkward-looking man strolled up
and joined in.

"Nonsense!" His irritated voice shrilled high above the rest. "Shut up,
you fools! Why, what do you know about East Africa? When I tramped from
Fort Rosebury to Kituta in my bare hide I got nothing worse than
mosquito bites, and I've had to make moccasins many a time or go
barefoot. I'm leaving this afternoon for Africa; how many of you chaps
want to go with me? Don't all speak at once, please."

Charlie stared, expecting to see the little, bitter-tongued man mobbed.
But to his vast surprise not a word was said, and the dilettante hunters
faded away one by one. The little man turned to Schoverling with a
bristling laugh of delight.

"See 'em run, General? Going in, I hear."

"Boys, I'd like to have you meet Mr. Mowbray," said the explorer,
introducing the two. "You aren't going to British territory, I suppose?"

"Never you mind, my son," snapped the little man. "Give me back my map.
Just got in from Washington an hour ago, and leave in another hour. I'll
need that map worse than you will--got wind of something big."

As Schoverling pulled out the folded map and handed it over, Mowbray
lowered his voice.

"I'll beat you there by some time, old boy, but I'll be around. Let you
in on it, if I can't handle it. Good-looking boys, there. Keep your ears
open for a nigger who says 'Me debbil man.' You can trust him. Got to
go, General. Mighty glad to have met you, boys--see you later, maybe.
Besselama!"

"Jumping sandhills!" ejaculated Charlie. "Who's he? A grand mogul around
here? What's that last word mean?"

"Arabic for 'so-long,'" smiled the General.

"What made 'em all shut up when he handed it to them?" inquired Jack
curiously.

"That's the chap, of course, who lent me the map, boys." And the General
spoke very seriously. "You must never repeat what he said to a soul, or
mention his name. In British Africa they have hunted him for years, by
regiments; there's a price on his head of some thousands of pounds, and
he's slipped into and out of the country whenever he liked. He's
defeated the Somali troops and even the white regulars time and again,
and no one knows how he gets into the ivory country. He does it for
sheer love of the game, for he has a fortune of his own."

"You mean," asked the puzzled and wondering Charlie, "that he's one of
the ivory raiders?"

"He's _the_ ivory raider of them all," nodded Schoverling, "and the
biggest man in the club here. For all his scornful words, not a man
there but would bite off his tongue sooner than repeat that Mowbray was
starting for Africa to-day. Why, the British would pay a thousand pounds
for those half-dozen words! Now just forget it, boys."

Forget it! It was a long time before Charlie ever forgot the sight of
that little man, and the time came when he was to remember him more
vividly still, as was Jack also. Neither of them gave any thought to the
muttered "Me debbil man." If Schoverling did, he betrayed no inkling of
it through his bronzed mask of a face.

That night they were aboard the steamer. During the days that followed
Charlie enjoyed every minute of the time, as did Jack also. But they
were both accustomed to hard work, and the luxuries of civilization,
where everything was done for them, soon grew monotonous. When they had
gone over their beloved guns, oiling every inch, and received
instructions for the use of the few simple medicines taken along, there
was little to do except to read up on Africa, which labor they threw
themselves into gladly.

They saw little of von Hofe on the way over, for he was busy on some
chemical experiments; but the day before they reached Gibraltar a
strange odor, which permeated the whole ship, drew down on him the wrath
of the captain, after which the big Teuton abandoned his beloved
mixtures.

The whole voyage to Port Said was uneventful in actual happenings. But
at Port Said they went aboard the _Mombasa_, and off Aden they had the
pleasure of meeting the gentlemanly Selim ben Amoud, and of first
hearing of the Magic Lake and its mysterious Rogue Elephant guardian.




CHAPTER III

QUILQUA THE MYSTERIOUS


He was a suave, polished, open-shirted Arab, who appeared the morning
after they had left Port Said and the Suez far behind, and who smiled at
Louis Schoverling with the air of old acquaintance. The American sprang
up with extended hand.

"Why, Selim! I had no idea you were aboard!"

"Neither had the authorities at Port Said," rejoined the Arab softly.
The explorer raised his eyebrows, and Jack nudged Charlie significantly.
A moment later they were being introduced, and von Hofe was explaining
the object of their journey.

"It should interest Mr. ben Amoud," smiled the General, "as he is one of
the largest Arab dealers in ivory--and other things--on the Coast."

Selim, much to Charlie's surprise, spoke fluent English, enjoyed his
cigar as much as did the explorer, and was not as swarthy as their
Italian captain. He sat quietly beneath the awning, his wide hat shading
his face, and would easily have been taken for a German or Boer, with
his flowing beard and European clothes. Most of the Arabs on board wore
the burnous and sandals, and Charlie wondered if there were any reason
behind this European garb.

The trader heard of their expedition, and gravely complimented von Hofe
on his work, of which he spoke with some knowledge, until the doctor
beamed genially.

After a pause Selim turned to Schoverling. "Much has happened in the two
years since I last saw you. You have not, by any chance, heard of one
who calls himself 'Me debbil man'?"

Charlie started, but Jack, his deep black eyes suddenly afire, gripped
his arm. Von Hofe stared, and the Arab gazed at Schoverling, whose face
never changed.

"Yes," replied the explorer, quietly. "We are all friends of his."

The Arab's gaze darted to one of the deck-hands, lounging on the rail
near by. Charlie saw ben Amoud rise, step to the man's side, and hiss
something. The man looked startled; then his face changed and he slunk
away. Selim, his narrow eyes glittering, returned to his deck-chair and
settled himself comfortably.

"Now we can talk, my friends. Mr. Schoverling, have you ever heard of
Lake Quilqua?"

The American looked puzzled. "Can't say I remember the name, Selim.
Where is it?"

"Ah, many men have asked that question!" and Selim's white teeth shone.
Charlie stole a glance at Jack. His dreams of the mysterious East were
being rapidly realized! "No one has ever answered it, however. It is one
of those odd native yarns that are generally founded on fact, though you
white men disbelieve them. Here it is for you:

"Two years ago rumors began to drift to certain of us that somewhere,
far down from the Abyssinian border in that desolate land north of the
Lorian Swamp, there was a lake. The tale was given me in fuller form by
one of my own Arabs who had got lost and found his way out to die,
crazed and raving of horrible things, only a few months ago.

"This lake, it seems, is fed by underground springs--hot springs, that
spout up and fall like fountains on the water; its outlet is also by an
underground river, so that the lake lies, sweltering in the sun and
surrounded by desert and jungle and marsh, where no people live."

Ben Amoud turned to the calmly interested German. "You, Doctor von Hofe,
are a scientist. Granted such a body of water, at an average temperature
of ninety to a hundred degrees Fahrenheit; would animal life in it and
near it be liable to any change in average size?"

The big man stroked his beard reflectively, pulling at his pipe.

"Possibly," he admitted at length. "But only one way. If animal life
could exist at such a temperature, it would perhaps be much larger than
elsewhere. For instance, a buffalo lives much in the water. In such a
place as that, a buffalo's great-grandchildren would be larger, and so
on through succeeding generations, each a little larger. Yes, it iss
possible--but nod probable."

"Do you mean," cried Charlie, unable to repress his eagerness, "that
there are giant animals there?"

The Arab smiled and waved his hand. "It is but a tale, remember. See, I
have heard that in this lake are great serpents of monstrous size. That,
as our friend has just said, there are such buffalo there as were never
seen, and that evil spirits dwell on an island near the reed-encircled
shore. But there is one thing more, that might interest you; indeed, it
was my reason for telling you the story.

"Not only the wandering natives, but my own Arab, have raved of a
tremendous elephant, a rogue, who dwells near there. He is said to be of
great size, very wicked, and cursed by Allah with the desire to fight
men. His size is said to be that of a mountain--and in truth I doubt if
any man has ever seen him and lived to tell of it. There, my friends,
would be a conquest worthy of your skill!"

Von Hofe grunted, but Charlie saw that his blue eyes were never off the
face of the Arab. Jack sat listening with all his ears.

"What's a 'rogue'?" he asked.

"Wait till you see one and you won't need to ask. A rogue is a big bull
elephant who's broken away from his herd and lives by himself in the
jungle. He's usually a man-fighter, and doesn't think anything of
attacking a whole herd of elephants. He's an outlaw, and he's a bad
citizen to meet.

"But I hardly think, Selim," continued the General with a smile, "that
we will penetrate to such a place. All we wish is a couple of very large
bulls; the others of the groups can be picked up nearer home, but it is
essential that we get magnificent tuskers."

"And I have told you where to get the best of all tuskers," rejoined
Selim seriously. "There is some foundation for such a tale, believe me.
I am not at liberty to tell you more, but perhaps you, Mr. Schoverling,
could imagine a friend of yours who would be very likely to try the
truth of the yarn."

Charlie's quick eyes roved from face to face. He had not fought with the
world for most of his life and emerged unable to read men's faces, young
as he was; and he knew enough of Jack by this time to feel confident
that the other was losing nothing of what went on.

At the Arab's last words a glance flashed between him and the explorer.
Von Hofe was frankly puzzled over these references to an unknown
person, but he asked no questions, wisely. It was the explorer who
finally spoke.

"Yes, I can imagine such a man, Selim. But we are in no way connected
with him, nor are we acting in conjunction with him. He told me, the day
he left New York, that he had something big on hand, and would perhaps
meet me later."

The Arab smiled slightly and tossed his cigar over the rail. Charlie had
jumped at the conclusion that they spoke of Mowbray, the ivory raider,
when Selim had first uttered the catch-phrase or password. At
Schoverling's reply he knew that he had been right, and watched eagerly
for more.

But the conversation shifted to other things, and during the morning
there was no more said of the mysterious lake. The two boys got off by
themselves and discussed the matter, but arrived nowhere.

"Prob'ly Mowbray is making a try for that Quilqua business," concluded
Jack sagely. "It sounds mighty good to me, old boy?"

"Here too," agreed Charlie. "But Selim laid it on too thick, with sea
serpents and elephants like mountains. Bet a dollar to a pine chip that
he had some axe to grind with the General. You wait and see."

"Mebbe," conceded Jack doubtfully. "He's a slick-lookin' proposition,
Chuck. I saw the lines of a gun in his coat pocket, too. He didn't do
much grinding, anyhow. The General didn't fall for his line of talk
worth a cent. Well, let's get back; it's almost time for lunch--or what
do they call it here? Tiff 'em?"

"Tiffin," chuckled his friend; "same's they do in India. There's a heap
of Indians all down the coast, 'cause it's a Mohammedan country an' they
don't lose caste by coming over to work."

All of which explanation was largely lost on Jack. Charlie knew a good
deal of the East Indians, having witnessed most of the Hindu immigrant
riots in western Canada, and he was frankly interested in them as a
race.

When they returned to the after awning they found Selim just saying
good-bye. He was to leave the ship at Ras al Kyle, a port on the Italian
Somaliland coast, and they were nearly due to reach there. So he suavely
bowed himself away, in odd contrast to his Boer-like appearance, and the
boys immediately deluged the General with questions. Dr. von Hofe
rumbled out a laugh.

"Would you prefer my absence, General? I--"

"Nonsense, Doctor!" broke in Schoverling sharply. "Here is all I know,"
and he told the big German of meeting Mowbray, and of the latter's
words.

"So!" drawled von Hofe. "Then, this Selim ben Amoud is who?"

"I have heard that he is the wealthiest Arab on the east coast," replied
the American. "You noticed, I suppose, what he first said?"

Charlie nodded eagerly.

"Privately, I have no doubt that he is a slaver," went on the explorer.
"He has a hand in everything, and is always in hot water with the
British authorities. He was trying to find out whether or not our
expedition had anything to do with that of Mowbray. I have met him
before and we know each other slightly."

"Well," asked Jack, "is Mowbray going to the magic lake?"

The explorer laughed. "Who knows? The whole yarn may be a
bluff--probably is. Selim would like the British to think that
Mowbray's party is merely exploring, and perhaps he thinks we will
spread the news, in which he is mistaken. Or, he may have been honest in
the matter; you can never tell what lies behind his words."

At this Charlie's face fell slightly. He had been intensely interested
in the Arab's tale, and the thought that it was a put-up job did not
appeal to him in the least.

"But wasn't it true?" he inquired, disappointed. "It sounded pretty good
to me!"

"Frankly, Charlie, I don't believe a word of it. You can hear yarns like
that wherever you go, and they usually pan out pretty small--just like
Jack's story of the mammoth up in the north. You noticed the password,
'Me debbil man'? Well, there isn't a particle of doubt in my mind that
Mowbray and Selim are parts of a big underground concern for illicit
trading. I don't for a minute think Mowbray would traffic in slaves, but
of course he's the biggest ivory raider in the game."

"Then it's a sort of conspiracy?" shot out Jack quickly. "Any chance of
our gettin' mixed up in the business?"

"Not a bit of it," asserted the explorer, with a smile at von Hofe.
"I'll answer for that, Jack. Selim is satisfied, and we'll probably
never hear from him or Mowbray again. Our own trip is perfectly fair and
square, the authorities will know everything we do, and we can't afford
to soil our fingers with anything crooked. It doesn't pay."

"That is why," struck in Dr. von Hofe, "I came to you. 'Schoverling,'
they told me, 'he is straight.' It is a good reputation to have, my
friend."

The boys nodded, understanding. A look of gratification crossed the
explorer's face, such gratification as comes to a man when he knows that
he has won the esteem of other men.

"We are not looking for hot water and sea serpents," went on the doctor
with a broad smile at the boys. "We are looking for elephants, let us
remember, please!"

With that, the topic of Lake Quilqua was promptly dropped. At Ras al
Kyle, Selim ben Amoud went ashore--this time wearing sandals and
burnous--and the _Mombasa_ took up her interrupted journey south. But
late that night, as the boys swung into their bunks, Jack gave vent to
his long-repressed thought.

"Chuck, I wish to thunder we were goin' to hunt for that lake!"

"Forget it," advised Charlie. "Von Hofe isn't paying expenses for us to
chase around after sea serpents. Anyhow, Jack, when you come to think it
over it doesn't stand to reason that there's any such place as that.
There's a heap of sense in what the General said. I've heard that Injun
yarn about the mammoths up north; but you know's well as I do that when
it comes down to hard pan there's nothin' to it. Same with this magic
lake."

"Guess you're right," sighed Jack regretfully, turning out the light.
While the boys were turning in, Dr. Gross von Hofe was replying to a
certain question put to him by the General, before they retired.

"Yes, my friend, it could be. Lieutenant Graetz found just such gigantic
buffalo at Lake Bangweolo, and was all but killed by them. He has
promised that I shall mount one, when he is able to undertake a second
expedition to bring home specimens. But elephants and sea
serpents--ach, no! Such a yarn is crazy."

"So crazy as a loon," laughed Schoverling, and said good night.




CHAPTER IV

MAKING READY


"Mombasa!"

Before them lay the picturesque harbor, filled with Arab dhows from
Zanzibar and the Somali ports, tramp steamers, coasters, and a trim
French corvette up from Madagascar. Up above the waters rose the old
Arab city, now a trim English-ruled town of immense trade, while behind
all shimmered the vivid green of trees.

"Dandy sight, isn't it!" and the boys turned to find Schoverling at
their side, with the doctor. "That old town used to have a sultan, as
Zanzibar has, and a gay pirate life was led along the east coast in the
days of Captain Kidd. Portugal captured the place, but the Arabs drove
her out again. Now England is making Mombasa into a mighty big trading
center, and as the Uganda Railway taps the Cape-to-Cairo, which is about
done, things are going to boom."

Charlie and Jack had seen considerable of the cosmopolitan aspect of
Port Said, although they had had no time to visit Alexandria, but here
was something entirely new to them. As they passed through the streets
to the Mombasa Club they were surrounded by English officers in neat
uniforms, by Somali and other native troops, by Arabs in fez and
burnous, and above all by Indians. Hindus and Mohammedans alike moved
through the streets, some wearing the fez, others the turban; there were
Sikhs and Gurkhas, lordly Brahmins who disdained to touch the Europeans
with their garments, and those of the lower castes who were equally
particular.

"I was reading the other day," said Charlie, "that the Indians were
swarming over here by the shipload, and this certainly looks like it!"

Louis Schoverling brushed aside the would-be native guides, and led the
party direct to the Mombasa Club, where they were soon comfortably
ensconced. Barely had they arrived when a bronzed, trim Englishman
sought out the explorer.

"Mr. Schoverling?" he inquired. "I am Inspector Harrington. The governor
heard that you and Doctor von Hofe came in on the _Mombasa_, and he
detailed me to look after you. He was anxious to see you in person, as
our embassador at Washington had written him, but he was called up
country yesterday."

"That is very good of you," returned the explorer, introducing his
party. "I was assured at Washington that you would have our permits for
us."

"They are ready at the Government House," said the inspector. "We are
anxious to extend every courtesy to you and Doctor von Hofe, of course.
You won't do any trading?"

"Frankly, I don't expect to. We are here to procure specimens and
nothing else. But if I could pick up any ivory on my own hook, I suppose
it would be all right?"

"With you, yes," smiled Harrington. "Men like you and Selous and
Cuninghame can be accepted at the standard of gentlemen. Unfortunately,
there are some who cannot. Now, how about porters and so on?"

"We'll take about twenty-five porters," answered the explorer
carelessly. At this the Englishman sat up.

"My word! Are you spoofin' me or what? Twenty-five porters! Why,
Roosevelt had two hundred, to say nothing of askaris, saises, tent
boys, and the rest!"

Smiling, Schoverling and von Hofe explained their plan of action.
Harrington's amazement grew into settled doubt that such a march was
possible, for although a remarkably fine young officer, he was decidedly
conservative.

"We are all used to doing things for ourselves," concluded the explorer.
"The doctor is less used to the trail, but he can wash his own dishes
and things right enough, and we'll do the shooting."

"Well, it's your expedition," returned Harrington, "and not mine. But
how do you expect to send back the skins with such a small safari?"

"Safari" was the term used for caravan, and was usually applied to the
entire expedition, who instead of being on the march, were said to be
"on safari."

"There is where I want your help," said Schoverling. "We will camp at
the nearest possible point to Mt. Kenia and let the doctor make what
sketches he desires. There we will kill the cows and calves and send
back their skins. For this purpose we can pick up porters on the spot,
but I must have three or four reliable men to bring them back. Also, I
want a good cook who can act as a sort of major-domo over the men at
each place."

Harrington pulled out his notebook and jotted down the requirements
methodically. Then he rose and shook hands all around.

"As a member of the Club," he told the explorer, "you need no cicerone.
You will take the morning train? Well, I will meet you here at eight
o'clock with your men. Good-bye!"

For the remainder of the day they rested. Schoverling departed to see
that their cases were placed aboard the train safely, while the boys
rambled around town with the doctor. The latter had been in Mombasa
before, but to-day his head was full of the expedition.

Instead of the great quantity of salt usually taken along to cure hides,
he was using a strong chemical powder of his own invention, which could
be dissolved in water, and thus be greatly diffused. His fifteen cases
comprised not only a sufficient supply of this, but also the medicines
which were likely to be necessary.

It had been found that a certain supply of provisions would have to be
taken along, but Schoverling was well satisfied when it was found that
evening that twenty-five porters would be sufficient for all. Their
tents were small sleeping-tents, and two porters could carry the lot
with ease.

That evening they had a long talk with Piet Andrus, a Boer merchant of
the city. He very strongly advised them to procure ox-wagons at Nakuro
and to proceed north with them.

"I do not know the country up north of the Guasa Nyero," he said, "but I
can see no reason why oxen could not be used. It would save porter hire
and be more reliable. If you lost them, for any reason, you could always
hire porters. I am going up on the same train with you, and if you like,
would be glad to pick out seasoned beasts."

After a brief discussion it was decided to take both porters and wagons
as far as the first camp, and then send back the porters with the skins
taken there.

In the morning Harrington arrived, followed by a group of men. These, it
proved, were all Indians who had been in the British army and in Africa
for years. They salaamed at the verandah steps.

"First your cook and general manager," smiled the inspector. "Gholab
Singh!"

A strapping Gurkha stepped out and saluted. Charlie liked his manner at
once.

"Gholab Singh," said Schoverling promptly, "are you willing to serve me
faithfully and follow wherever I lead?"

"I am, sahib," returned the other in a quiet, confident voice.

"Then you will cook for us, and will be in charge of the safari under my
orders. The pay shall be as the inspector sahib has agreed with you. Is
it well?"

"It is well, sahib."

Harrington then brought up the gun-bearers--two Gurkhas and a stalwart
Sikh. The last, Guru, the General chose for himself as personal
attendant. To Charlie was alloted Amir Ali, and to Jack, Akram Das. All
three were faithful and highly recommended by the inspector. The four
remaining, one an Arab half-caste, two Somali, and one a Gurkha, were to
take charge of the safari under Gholab Singh, and to return with the
skins as obtained.

At the railroad station Gholab Singh was given money for the tickets and
food en route, and the men vanished into one of the tiny carriages.
Special arrangements had been made in honor of Schoverling and the
doctor, however, and as the weather was fine they were to travel on a
wide seat fastened across the cow-catcher, which held four with comfort.
The boys took their places with some misgivings, but found the seat
comfortable enough.

Inspector Harrington now waved them farewell, with assurances that all
had been arranged for their comfort on the trip, which would take two
days. Andrus, they knew, was on board, and had that morning wired ahead
to his traders to prepare teams and wagons. In fact, the general
courtesy with which they met both surprised and delighted the two boys.

"They seem to do things just to please you," exclaimed Jack happily, as
he gave a last wave to Harrington and the train started. "Are they as
hospitable and obliging as this all the time, General?"

[Illustration: Everything else was forgotten in the novel method of
riding.]

"Those we meet are, Jack. But you must remember that we are a special
party, and that most of these men, who are big men themselves, consider
it an honor to assist the doctor, here. That chap Harrington, for
instance, just got in from two years up-country. He had charge of some
three hundred square miles of absolutely savage country, and with a
dozen Somalis kept order and law enforced. Andrus is another real man,
and real men are above smallness."

As the train pulled out everything else was forgotten in the novel
method of riding. The boys already knew that on each side of the
railroad was a great game reserve, but on the first day's trip they saw
nothing save one or two antelope and jackals. Birds were plentiful,
however, and the rolling country was constantly presenting a change of
scene before them.

The neat railroad stations were always surrounded with curious crowds of
natives, some half dressed. As a rule the station agents and officials
were Indians in the government service. Both Charlie and Jack kept their
pocket cameras busy.

Toward evening they retired into their special carriage and wrote
their last letters home, which would be mailed at Nakuro. But with the
morning they were in the game country, and took advantage of the first
stop to resume their seats in front. Now everything was changed. At one
moment they would pass a group of giraffe, running in their ungainly
fashion to one side; hartebeests, impalla and other varieties of
antelope were everywhere, gazing in fearless fashion at the train. Herds
of zebra came into sight, while through the trees scampered monkeys in
endless variety.

"They know they're safe, all right," chuckled Charlie, as a herd of
beautiful little gazelles stopped a dozen yards away to stare in mild
wonder. "Funny how animals get to know where they're protected."

"It's the same in the Yellowstone," said von Hofe. "Within the limits
they are almost tame, but across the line--pouf! and they are gone."

The wonderful journey, like no other in the world, was ended at last,
however, and they puffed past Lake Nakuro to the village station. Here
their trip was ended, their baggage was rolled off, and they were taken
in charge by a young subaltern, Lieutenant Smithers, together with the
Boer merchant, Piet Andrus. The latter offered them the hospitality of
his trading store, which they gratefully accepted.

"Now to business," said the General that night after dinner.
"Lieutenant, what would be your advice as to porters? I'd like to get
off in the morning, if possible."

"The usual way," laughed Smithers, "is to take Swahilis, but you seem to
be an unusual party. Since you are going to take wagons from here, I
would suggest that you load everything into the wagons and trek north to
Jan Botha's ranch. There you can pick up a score or two of Masai. They
are an offshoot of the old Zulu stock--brave as lions, faithful enough,
and able to provide for themselves. This safari business is largely
bally rot, to my mind."

"Bully for you!" cried Charlie in delight, while the others laughed
heartily.

"According to law," said Smithers, "you'll have to provide tents for the
porters. But the Masai would laugh at such things, and this will save
you a good deal of carriage. How about horses?"

"They are in the compound," said Miers, the local agent of Andrus' firm.
"I have two good wagons and a dozen 'salted' oxen, specially selected.
This gives you six to a wagon, and even if you lose four of the beasts,
the other eight will do the work. Better to have too many than too few."

Von Hofe nodded, thoroughly satisfied. By 'salted,' the trader meant
that the animals had been through the sickness caused by the bite of the
tsetse fly, and were henceforth immune to the worst scourge of Africa.
That night there was a gathering of the Boers, English settlers, and
officers at the station, all of whom were keenly interested in the novel
excursion. It was the general opinion that the expedition would succeed,
although the nature of the country beyond the mountains was an open
question.

"Well," commented Charlie that night, as he made ready to share his bunk
with Jack, "we're off! Looks like we'd have a bully time, eh?"

"It sure does, if we strike a rogue," chuckled Jack. "I'm crazy to get
out those guns, Chuck. Funny the doctor doesn't care for shooting."

"He's got some tough work ahead of him, all right. Did you see those
paints an' things he brought along? Right on the job! Well, see you in
the morning. Good night."




CHAPTER V

THE FIRST HUNT


The place was astir with the dawn, and after sunrise, with breakfast
over, the party prepared for the start. Gholab Singh took charge of
loading the wagons, and the main question was the matter of personal
equipment.

Each of the boys carried matches in a water-tight box, compass, and
sheath-knife, of course. The elephant guns and ammunition were stored
away for future reference, but the 30-30s were to be slung in holsters
at their saddles for the present. Each wore a bandolier for cartridges,
and their ordinary clothes--flannel shirt and khakis. And, instead of
sun helmets, each boy wore his northern hat--a light, stiff brimmed
Stetson.

"As our shoes go to pieces," said the General, "we'll replace 'em with
moccasins. No use fussing with leggings while we're going to ride. We'll
have open veldt country as far as Mount Kenia, anyway. Just get the
idea that we're in Canada, going by wagon from Athabasca to Fort
McMurray."

Dr. von Hofe was the only member of the party who from habit insisted on
leggings and boots. Their horses were steady, flea-bitten little beasts,
not unlike mustangs, and mounts had been provided for the gun-bearers,
to the huge delight of all three. Gholab Singh also demanded a horse,
which he obtained, as being worthy of his dignity.

It was a military-looking little cavalcade. The Indians had all served
in the native cavalry regiments and Gholab maintained strict military
discipline. Behind their saddles the boys strapped slickers and H. B. C.
blankets--the sight of the latter making Jack just a trifle homesick.
Water canteens also were slung at the saddle.

After receiving a letter from Andrus to Jan Botha, Louis Schoverling
gave the order to march. Gholab Singh rode to the gate of the compound,
reined up, and drew from his neck his silver whistle. One sharp blast,
and the two wagons, containing the four who were to bring back the
skins, started. A shouted farewell, and the two boys followed the
General and von Hofe to the head of the march, the Sikh riding with
them and the other gun-bearers on each side of the wagons.

"Isn't this glorious?" declared Charlie as he rode at Jack's side. "I
thought it would be as hot as blazes!"

"Oh, we'll need our blankets at night, I guess,--hello! There's an
antelope! What kind is he, General?"

Charlie unslung his glasses hastily to gaze at the quiet figure on a
ridge four hundred yards away, but the explorer answered quickly.

"Grant's gazelle, Jack. The most beautiful of all antelopes. He must be
an old buck, to judge from his long horns."

"When are we going to hunt a little?" asked Charlie. "I'm itching to get
at the guns."

"Not till this afternoon. We can knock over a couple of small antelope
then, which will be plenty for all of us. See here, Doctor. These wagons
won't make Botha's ranch until sometime to-morrow. How would it suit you
to ride on and put up there overnight, then get our Masai all ready to
start as soon as the wagons come up?"

"I am very happy," declared von Hofe, who was settled down comfortably
in his saddle, his pipe going full blast. "It matters not to me a bit.
Perhaps it would be better to spend to-night in solid comfort."

"Very well. Guru!"

"Yes, sahib?" The Sikh drew up and saluted.

"You will bring the other gun-bearers with us for a short hunt. We are
going to have an early meal and then push on. Gholab Singh, I leave the
safari in your care. You know the way to Jan Botha's?"

"I do, sahib. We will arrive to-morrow morning at ten of the clock."

Charlie winked at Jack, who smiled. The military precision of the
stately Gurkha was of no little amusement to them at first, but Gholab
promised to be a valuable man in a pinch. The gun-bearers were of little
use at present, but would be highly necessary later on, and with their
advice Schoverling knew that the two novices in Africa would get along
well enough.

Von Hofe having absolutely no interest in hunting, save as regarded his
own work, stayed with the wagons. The other six rode out to one side,
parallel with the line of march. At a word from Guru, Amir Ali spurred
up his horse and departed at a steady gallop to the right.

"He will beat up something," replied the Sikh to their looks of
surprise. "Here game is not very thick."

Amir disappeared amid the tall grass and dotted trees, and five minutes
later Charlie, with rifle ready, saw a tiny shape bounding through the
grass two hundred yards to the right.

"You first, Chuck," exclaimed Jack quietly.

Setting his sights for two hundred yards, Charlie aimed behind the
shoulder of the antelope, and fired. The shot went a little high, owing
to the jump of the beast, but the boy gave a yell of satisfaction as the
antelope went down, its back broken by the shot. As they rode up he
mercifully killed it with a shot through the brain, and the two boys
looked down on their first Thomson's gazelle, or "tommy."

"Good shot, Charlie," declared the explorer. "Now one for you, Jack, and
we'll have enough for this time."

A mile or so farther on Jack got his chance at one of the larger
Grant's, and fetched him down with a single shot at three hundred
yards, which caused the two Indians to give a cry of delight at his
skill. By the time Amir rejoined them the wagons, were "hull down" on
the horizon. Guru and Akram Das slung the two gazelles over their
saddles, and all six started across the veldt at a brisk canter.

Suddenly Jack's horse, in the lead, stopped dead still, trembling. In
vain the boy urged him on, wondering what was the matter. The horse only
backed, his ears flat, and then Jack saw that those of the others were
doing likewise.

"What's the trouble, General?" exclaimed Charlie. Schoverling unslung
his rifle.

"Lion, boys. These are well-trained horses, evidently. See that patch of
mimosa just ahead? We are down-wind from that, and they probably smelled
a lion. Head around it, and they will be all right."

They arrived opposite the little ridge, topped with a dense growth of
long grass, thorn and trees, when an exclamation burst from the Sikh.
Out from the thicket broke a long, tawny shape, barely a hundred yards
away. It was a magnificent black-maned lion, who stood lashing his sides
and watching them as they drew rein.

"There's your chance for a lion," said Schoverling, as the Indians cast
a glance at him. Charlie shrugged his shoulders, watching the animal
with eager interest.

"What's the use in killing him, General?" he replied. "We don't want his
skin particularly, and he's no good for food. How about it, Jack?"

The other's hand fell from his rifle-butt.

"Of course, Chuck. He won't attack us, I suppose?"

"You'd like the excuse, eh?" laughed the explorer. "No, he won't attack
us. He's probably got his dinner in that thicket, and heard us coming.
It might be of advantage to the sheep ranchers hereabouts to kill him,
but certainly not to us."

They rode on, leaving the tawny beast still gazing after them. The
Indians were keenly disappointed over not shooting the lion, but neither
boy had cared to do so. They had been too well trained to slaughter
needlessly; Jack, in particular, had no small share of the Cree feeling
that animals are but "little brothers," and more than once thereafter
Charlie heard him mutter the Indian's apology for taking life, as he
shot.

Upon rejoining the wagons a halt was made, Gholab Singh taking charge of
the gazelles. After a good dinner the four white men rode on ahead,
following the rude track across the veldt, and the wagons were speedily
out of sight.

"This looks a whole lot like the Alberta and Montana country," declared
Charlie as they rode along. "With those hills off in the distance, and
the dry gullies fringed with trees, a fellow might think he was just
pushing across our own range land. Wouldn't this be a swell cow country,
Jack?"

"Looks like it," rejoined the Cree. "Look at those ostriches! Isn't that
a ranch, up there among those buttes?"

By the aid of their glasses they could see a small ranch-house, a good
four miles away, but clear-cut and distinct in the rarefied atmosphere
of the plateau. White dots were scattered near by, which Schoverling
declared were sheep.

"They must suffer to some extent from wild animals," he said, "but on
the whole the sheep ranges up here are in fine shape. It's a great
little old country, boys. If I could make up my mind to settle down I'd
like to take up a few thousand acres back near the hills and try
irrigation."

"It is too dry," nodded the doctor wisely. "Some day they will irrigate
all this. Then the animals will be gone, all gone."

"What of it?" said Jack slyly. "Folks will come just the same to see the
masterpieces made by the great von Hofe! The sooner the game goes, the
more valuable you will be."

"Ach, no!" Von Hofe shook his head sadly. "It is not nice to see the
fine animals be killed off. Look at South Africa--all the game is gone,
all the Zulu kingdoms are gone, and instead there is railroads and mines
and factories. It is not nice."

"Well, that's the advance of civilization," declared Schoverling. "It
was the same in Ohio and Missouri and Montana--everywhere. And yet there
are always new fields to conquer."

"As long as the H. B. C. ran things," flashed up Jack, with the true
Indian prejudice, "it was all right in Canada. The Company took care of
the game first rate. But now everybody takes a whack at trapping--and
where's the beaver gone?"

"True enough," sighed the explorer. "But the hunter must give place to
the settler, Jack."

A spirited argument ensued, to which Charlie and von Hofe listened
amusedly. In the end Jack had to confess that Schoverling was right,
however. Towards evening they got into more rolling country, while to
the northeast towered up the hills about Mount Kenia, whose snowy summit
had been long visible, although nearly a hundred miles away.

Just before sunset they cantered up to Botha's ranch. The hospitable
Boer did not need the letter from Piet Andrus to welcome them, and the
boys were keenly interested in his family. This consisted of his wife,
two stalwart, bearded sons, and their own families--chubby little Dutch
people who clambered over everyone, once their shyness had been removed.
Von Hofe was soon a prime favorite with them.

After dinner was over, the boys discovered that Botha was related to the
famous General of the same name, and had fought through the Boer war
with him until his capture. Like many other Boers, Jan had brought his
family up into the new country, where his sons had grown up, and where
his great ranch was speedily making him wealthy. Dutch and English lived
side by side on a perfectly friendly footing, and the old quarrels were
forgotten forever.

Jan Botha willingly agreed to ride over early in the morning, and set
them right at the Masai village, a dozen miles away, where he was well
known. So Charlie and Jack found themselves up before the dawn with the
rest of the family, eating breakfast by lamplight, and with the first
light of dawn they were on horseback, shivering in the chill morning
air.

An hour after sunrise they reached the village, a collection of grass
huts beside a river in the hills. Charlie was a little surprised to find
that the Masai were stalwart, eager-faced warriors, well dressed in
blankets or cotton cloth draped from the shoulder, and bearing spears,
bows, and black-and-white shields of hide.

"I wonder if they are really a branch of the Zulus?" asked Jack while
Botha was talking with the headman.

"Hardly," said Schoverling. "But no doubt they are distantly connected.
Perhaps they are some of the Zulus driven north by the great king
Tchaka, a hundred years ago. They are extremely fierce warriors, and
highly respected by the other natives. With a score of those fellows for
bodyguard, we'll get along finely."

Bakari proved to be the name of an English-speaking Masai who was put in
charge of twenty-five men and hired to accompany the expedition as far
as Mount Kenia, or beyond. As the Masai eat nothing but meat, foraging
for vegetables would be an easy matter, Charlie concluded.

They reached the Botha farmhouse about nine, the warriors loping easily
behind them. An hour later, almost to the minute, the wagons topped a
rise and Gholab Singh drew up and saluted. As there was no use in delay,
they all bade the hospitable Boers farewell, and pushed on straight for
Kenia.




CHAPTER VI

MOUNT KENIA


Now began the real march--a swift, ceaseless trek over veldt and through
the foot-hills, for Schoverling was in haste to reach Mount Kenia,
secure the cow and calf skins, and be gone on the real work of the
expedition, which lay farther on. Had he been able to foresee just what
that work would be, his eagerness would have been increased tenfold.

"Gholab," he said that afternoon, "we are going to push for Kenia as
hard as we can. Can we push the oxen day and night?"

"Easily, sahib. Halt for three hours at dawn, at noon, and at nightfall.
This will rest the beasts well, and the rest of the time we can march.
There will be a good moon for a week yet."

The Masai seemed to make little of a forced march, and so it was agreed
upon. The Indians and Masai did not mix, but Bakari and his men yielded
ready obedience to the semi-uniformed figure of Gholab Singh. That
afternoon the real work of the two boys began.

"Charlie, you and Jack come over here," called Schoverling, who was
sitting with von Hofe in one of the wagons, poring over a map. "We'll
have to have meat for these Masai by sundown. I must go over our route
with the doctor, so it's up to you. Get busy."

"Aye, aye, General!" and the boys saluted in high delight. They called
their two gun-bearers, but Guru the Sikh refused to be left out of the
part, so all five cantered off ahead, followed by the eager Masai at a
little distance.

Their first taste was not very encouraging. One of the Masai had leaped
ahead to a ridge in the veldt, and motioned them that there was game on
the other side. Slipping from their horses, the boys stole up gun in
hand, to see a herd of at least fifty wildebeest and zebra grazing about
three hundred yards off. But before they could get up their guns, the
quick-eyed beasts were off like the wind and out of range in an instant.

"Pretty rotten," exclaimed Charlie disgustedly. "Say, they move like a
streak!"

"You bet. Well, there's lots more where they came from."

And there was. Half a mile farther on they came upon a dozen
kongoni--another form of antelope--feeding about some bushes. Happening
on a drift, or dry water-course, the boys and Guru crawled up this and
managed to get a shot. This time Charlie dropped a buck perfectly, but
Jack had to place a second bullet in his animal. The Masai took charge
of the bodies, tying the hoofs together, placing a long spear between,
and two men trotting off with each toward the wagons.

Guru declared that this was not half enough meat for them all, so
accompanied by the rest of the Masai, they rode on, just within sight of
the caravan. Suddenly an eland dashed out from a clump of bushes barely
a hundred yards off, not having heard their approach. Jack fired,
missed, fired again, and the eland gave one high spring and rolled heels
over head. But as he did so Bakari let out a yell, and they drew rein
suddenly at sight of a lion leaping toward them through the long grass,
plainly bent on mischief.

"We've roused him up, all right," exclaimed Charlie hastily, as he drew
bead. "I'll give him a chance to turn off."

But the lion, as they discovered later, had been disturbed at his
feeding, and came straight for them. The Masai showed no signs of
flinching, and the horses trembled but stood still. Anxiously Charlie
waited until the great beast had come within two hundred yards, flying
over the grass-hummocks in great bounds, then he drew trigger.

The lion went down, but was up again instantly with a roar of pain.
Charlie gave him another bullet, but with no better result. At a hundred
yards the Masai spread out, spears and arrows ready, but with his third
bullet Charlie dropped the huge beast for the last time, the ball
piercing the eye to the brain.

"Good shot, old man," cried Jack, as the other wiped the sweat from his
face. That had been an anxious moment.

"Had to hit him in the eye," returned Charlie. "Didn't see where else to
shoot, after I missed his shoulder."

But he had not missed the shoulder. His first shot had been a mortal
one, and his second had struck nearly in the same place; the tremendous
vitality and energy of the lion had served to carry him forward until
the third bullet pierced his brain. This gave Guru a chance to point out
the advisability of shooting for the shoulder, in which case the lion
would be crippled and could not charge.

The lion was packed off to be inspected, then photographed, and on the
way back Jack knocked over a small Grant's gazelle, which would make the
food supply a sufficient one. Charlie received many compliments on his
first lion from von Hofe and Schoverling, and regretted that keeping the
skin was impossible under the circumstances.

At six that evening they outspanned the oxen, fed and watered them at a
waterhole, and rested for three hours, during which all the party slept
save Schoverling, who remained on guard. At nine the march was taken up
again, and they went on steadily until four in the morning. The night
was cold. Overhead on the horizon blazed the Southern Cross, while the
moon afforded a good light.

At seven in the morning the oxen were inspanned and they went forward
until noon. On this occasion the General accompanied the boys, and they
brought in enough game for the rest of the day and night. During their
noon halt they met a freighter's wagon-safari trekking west to some of
the outlying ranches, but the men were all Boers or natives, and no stop
was made.

So during four days and nights they pushed on relentlessly. During the
last two days they ran into a driving, cold rain, but finally this was
gone and the boys found themselves on the verge of the heavily forested
country about Mount Kenia.

At the last stopping place, a shallow drift, or river, in a valley under
the western slopes of the great hills, it was decided to make camp here
beside the drift, as a sort of headquarters. They had met scattered
parties of Kikuyu men, and had passed one or two of the native villages,
so after a day's rest a number of the Masai were sent out to bring in
some of the natives.

"They can tell us any news of the elephants," declared Schoverling, "and
can guide us to the herds. It's ticklish business going without some of
them along."

"Why so?" inquired Charlie, "Are they such good hunters?"

"Never mind," laughed the explorer. "You wait and you'll see something."

With this the boys were forced to be content. The lower slopes of the
mountains were heavily forested, while the valleys were nothing but
jungle. Great trees reached far up above, and between them giant bamboos
formed an almost impenetrable mass.

Bakari returned with a dozen Kikuyu hunters, who readily agreed to lead
the party to elephants. There was a herd of about fifty, they declared,
a day's journey to the east, and as it was morning now, the General
determined to start out at once.

"Now, Doctor, just what stuff do you want to take along?"

"My sketching kit," replied the German, all action on the instant. "My
small camera I have in my pocket. Beyond this, nothing."

The two Somalis were appointed to take care of the doctor's needs. Half
a dozen of the Masai volunteered to serve as porters, for the tents and
some supplies had to be carried. It was arranged that the camp should be
supplied with fowls, pigs and vegetables from the nearest village, but
at the last moment it developed that they would have to do without
pigs, the Gurkhas being Mohammedans and refusing to allow pigs in the
camp for fear of defilement.

The horses would of course have to be left behind. For an hour the camp
was in a buzz of excited preparation. The elephant guns and cordite
ammunition were broken out, the blankets, slickers and other necessaries
were loaded up on the porters, and the three hunters donned their
moccasins for the first time.

"Feels mighty good to get back into moosehide," laughed Charlie, as he
laced up the water-tight flaps. "What are the Masai chattering about,
Jack?"

"Making a corral--zareba, they call it--out of thorns," answered the
other, looking out through the end of the wagon. "For the oxen, I
suppose. I heard the General giving them orders about it. Gholab's
bossing things lively."

Charlie finished first, and had barely emerged from the wagon-tilt when
he saw that something was wrong. The horses were pulling wildly at their
pickets, and a number of the porters had dropped their loads. Von Hofe
and Schoverling were in the other wagon, making final preparations. But
they were not fated to leave the camp for that day at least.

"Hey, Jack! General!" shouted Charlie. "Tumble out lively--something's
busted!"

At this moment Guru and Amir Ali ran up excitedly, uncasing the heavy
guns and loading them as they ran. Amir reached Charlie first, and
thrust the weapon into his hand.

"Rhino, sahib! Rhino coming through the bushes from the river!"

Jack and the explorer leaped to the ground from the wagons as Akram ran
up with the third gun. The Masai had clustered at the edge of the camp,
but as the explorer took in the situation the warriors broke and fled
before a huge dun shape that crashed bushes and trees down before it in
blind rage. Charlie gasped at the size of the beast, for he had not yet
seen a rhino.

"Female," stated the General quietly. "Going to tear things up, too.
Ready, boys?"

By this time the ground was littered with cast-off loads, while the
natives fled in all directions. Fortunately, the zareba and oxen were at
the other end of the camp, and the courageous Gholab ran down to the
horses and loosed them as the rhinoceros charged.

This made the three hunters unable to fire for an instant. Gholab ducked
behind a huge tree, and the infuriated brute crashed full into it,
knocking off a great flake of the bark and wood. Stunned for an instant,
it stood glaring around, and in that instant Schoverling fired.

His bullet took the rhino behind the shoulder, but the beast, rage
darting from its deep-set eyes, whirled in the direction of the wagons.
It was barely fifty yards from them, and as the explorer fired his
second barrel, Charlie pulled trigger also. The tremendous charges
halted and shook the big animal, but for an instant only. Then, rocking
and stumbling, it came on full tilt for the wagons, the wicked-looking
head held low.

One of the Kikuyu porters had started to slip across the open space, and
was caught before he could escape. As the terrified man turned, the head
of the rhino caught him and tossed him a dozen feet into the air. But
that gave Jack and Charlie their chance. As the head went up, they fired
together.

Jack's bullet broke the rhino's off-shoulder; that of Charlie tore into
her throat. Jack fired again, and at this instant Guru handed back
Schoverling's rifle, reloaded; but another bullet was unnecessary. The
huge beast stood for a moment quite still, then swayed and plunged down,
dead.

"Good!" came the calm voice of von Hofe from behind them. "Now led us
see how the man hurd iss."

Only his accent betrayed his excitement as he led the way to the injured
porter. The man had been gored in the side by the horn, but had saved
himself from mortal injury. The doctor dressed his wound and saw him
borne off to the village; meanwhile, the others had gathered about the
dead rhino, the natives with wild shouts and chants, the two boys in
silent wonder.

"You chaps'll have to give me lessons in shooting," laughed the General.
"See here--my first bullet missed her shoulder, and my second likewise.
She couldn't have gone far, though; but she could have finished us right
enough. That was good shooting, boys."

"Wouldn't have been," admitted Charlie, "if she hadn't lifted her head.
Jumping Sandhills! How that fellow did go up!"

"Lucky he wasn't killed," added Jack. "I got her with both bullets,
right in the shoulder. Chuck's bullet must have gone clear through to
her tail."

It proved that the bullet fired by Charlie through her throat had
penetrated to the spine, thus paralyzing her. But as the honors were
equal, it did not matter greatly. The Masai took possession of the hide,
while the Kikuyu bore off the flesh to their village.

"I guess that ends our trip for to-day," said Schoverling ruefully, as
Gholab was directing the re-ordering of the camp. "Everything is badly
mussed up; even the men are demoralized. Well, no matter. We can leave
the camp in better shape, perhaps."

So, content with their conquest of that day, they gave all their
attention to putting the camp in better order. Jack learned how the
thorn zareba was built, and Charlie visited the Kikuyu village with his
camera. The elephant trip was to take place the next day, and guides
came over that night, with a fresh party of natives.




CHAPTER VII

ELEPHANT


The start was made early. First went Schoverling, von Hofe and the boys,
with the guides and gun-bearers. Then the Masai marched along, followed
by the crowd of natives. So far they had not struck the mountain slopes,
and the Kikuyu led them deeper into the great African forest.

The sun was shut out above by the dew-wet foliage,--twisted vines, trees
and bushes all matted together. The party traveled by means of old
elephant trails, which alone made the jungle passable to man. Hour after
hour they walked through the tangle of vegetation, striking into fresh
paths, twisting and turning until the boys felt hopelessly lost.

Great ferns and mosses grew about them. Mighty trees with trunks
corrugated and knotted towered overhead, draped with Spanish moss and
filled with scampering, chattering monkeys. Into and across tree-ferned
ravines, through dashing streams of icy water, past cataract and
morass, the party plowed its devious way until long past noon.

Suddenly one of the guides held up a warning hand and slipped ahead. In
a few moments he returned in great excitement.

"Elephant!" he whispered. "Him close! Come!"

No sign of elephant could Charlie or Jack see until they had advanced
another hundred feet in the half-gloom. Then the guide pointed out the
spoor, deep and heavy in the damp leaves that matted the trail. Here the
natives squatted down to wait, and here also the boys made a discovery.

Charlie had stepped ahead, a little to one side of the trail. But as he
did so the guides started forward in silent dismay. He paid no attention
to them, trying to peer through the dense vegetation; suddenly it seemed
that everything gave way beneath him, and the next moment his legs were
dangling in vacancy, while he gripped the vines and sticks spread over a
great hole dug at one side of the track.

The others broke into quiet laughter at his amazed expression, while the
guides pulled him out hurriedly and silently. Then he saw that he had
tumbled into an elephant pit--a long, deep trench, narrowing at the
bottom.

"I told you you'd see something," whispered the explorer, as Charlie
recovered himself, somewhat disgusted. "Now let's get busy on the
trail."

By lighting a match and by watching the tree-tops far overhead they
ascertained that the wind was right for an approach, and with guides and
gun-bearers they started off on the spoor.

"How many, do you think?" asked Schoverling cautiously. Jack had been
studying the signs intently, and answered without hesitation.

"About eight females, three little fellows, and a big chap."

"Just what the guides say," grinned the explorer delightedly. "Pretty
good, eh, Doctor? We were lucky in finding them so near camp."

The trail was now marked by freshly broken branches and splintered
trees, while in places the bushes were trampled down for yards, where an
elephant had stopped to feed. Charlie declared that the animals were not
more than half an hour ahead of them, at which the explorer nodded.

Dr. von Hofe had been sketching busily for some time, paying special
attention to the spoor and the marks of feeding. He made careful
photographs as they advanced, and as Charlie watched him he wondered at
the painstaking efforts of the big German to get every smallest detail
correctly. Then Schoverling beckoned, and the two boys slipped ahead
with him, their moccasined feet as noiseless as the naked soles of the
guides.

"Hear anything?" muttered the explorer when they had gone a hundred
yards. Listening, Charlie could hear a faint crashing, and his heart
leaped in excitement. Jack nodded also.

They went on, but now the noise grew plainer and seemed to come from one
side. As they stood in perplexity, Charlie saw a single elephant track
leading off ahead.

"General! One fellow has struck off through there--the others have
doubled back, and are on one side of us. We could follow that single
track."

A guide was sent back for the others, and now the gun-bearers handed
over the heavy guns, retaining the thirty-thirties for emergencies.
Slowly they crept forward in silence, while the gruntings, crashings,
and rumblings of the great beasts came to them clearly. Cutting through
the single track, they soon came upon the whole spoor of the herd
again--but this time they knew that Charlie had been right, and that the
beasts could not be far ahead.

So dense was the matted vegetation, however, that nothing could be seen.
One of the guides pointed to a tree-trunk with his spear, and a thrill
went through the boys at sight of the fresh-rubbed bark. From one side
flew up a flock of hornbills, with squawkings and flappings of wings,
but the slow movements of the elephants went on.

At this juncture the guides nimbly sidestepped any farther advance by
going up trees like monkeys. They indicated that the herd was close at
hand, and again the party stole forward, rifles ready for instant
action.

"Makes you feel queer," murmured Jack in Charlie's ear, "to hear 'em and
not be able to get a crack."

Every sense on the alert, Charlie gripped Schoverling's arm and pointed
ahead. A long tendril of Spanish moss at a bend in the trail was shaking
slightly, and without a sound the three stepped off the trail to one
side, followed by the Indians. The doctor had remained some distance
behind, to sketch a strange flower.

Something huge and shadowy appeared vaguely, and the hunters drew back
farther still amid the tangle. Then there came a tremendous crash, and,
at the side of the trail proper a sudden quivering seized the
vegetation. At the same moment that the first elephant appeared
leisurely, two more crashed from the undergrowth.

Schoverling cast a quick glance of warning and shook his head. The two
who had burst through from the side stopped to feed, and after them came
two calves. All three were cows, but there were crashings all around,
and the Indians were as nervous as the two boys. They stuck to their
post nobly, however, the smaller rifles ready. The explorer leaned over
and breathed in Jack's ear.

"Give the two cows both barrels. I'll bag the calves."

Jack nodded and passed the word to Charlie. But slight as the breathed
whisper had been, the sensitive ear of the elephants caught it and their
heads went up. Without hesitation Charlie aimed at the eye of the cow
on the right, and all three pulled trigger together.

Fortunately they stood at some distance apart, or the concussion of the
three heavy guns would have worked sore damage. Charlie's cow shivered
and went down at the first shot; that of Jack trumpeted loud and shrill
and tried to whirl, but the second barrel, just back of the shoulder,
finished her.

The General had given each calf a single barrel. One plunged to its
knees, the other stood shivering. The boys felt the Indians press the
lighter guns into their hands, as a great crashing arose ahead. The
single cow in the trail proper was just turning, so rapidly had all
passed, when Charlie and the General fired together. Both bullets struck
her vitally, and she went down.

For an instant the forest was filled with shrill trumpetings and the
earth seemed to shake beneath the tread of the frightened beasts. So
loud was the clamor that there came not the slightest warning of their
danger until the trees directly opposite them swayed and shattered
apart, and the enormous head and tusks of a great bull shoved through.

There was no time to run, even had they been able. Jack let drive with
both barrels of his 30-30, and the huge beast paused with the shock. In
that brief instant the large guns, already reloaded by the agile
bearers, were thrust forward. Charlie brought his up and fired just as
the bull plunged on. The enormous trunk swept up and then down, hardly a
yard in front of them. One step more, and he would be on them.

But even as the boys shrank aside instinctively, Schoverling fired
deliberately, right and left. So close was the huge head that Charlie
could distinctly see both bullets go home, each taking the bull in an
eye fair and square.

It was enough. For a moment there was no movement--a little trickle of
blood came from each eye--and then the mighty head dropped, the trunk
swept down to the trail, and over went the tusker on his side, the last
sweep of his trunk narrowly missing Guru as he leaped away.

"Jumping sandhills! I'm satisfied!"

Charlie sank down weakly on a fallen bamboo, gazing at the tremendous
bulk five feet away. Jack, deadly pale, gripped his gun and waited while
the crashings and trumpetings died away. The explorer, his deep bronze
flushed with red, smiled and mopped his face.

"By George, that was a close thing, boys! I wouldn't go through that
again for a million dollars cash." He turned and gripped the hands of
the gun-bearers. "Guru, Amir, Akram, you are men! I am proud of you!"

"I guess we all owe you a vote of thanks, General," smiled Jack weakly.
Charlie nodded.

"You bet! Jack and I both missed his eye--what dandy shots those were!"

The nervy Indians showed their white teeth at the praise showered on
them, and a moment after, von Hofe appeared excitedly, followed by a
stream of Masai and Kikuyu. These gave wild yells of excitement and
leaped and danced on the fallen carcasses, while the story of that
terrible moment was told the doctor. He could barely speak, as he
realized what the danger had been.

"Himmel! Ach, er ist--it iss vonderful! Bang-bang, und you haf ein,
zwei, drei cows, two calfs, und a bull killed! I shall no more say--ach!
Avay--raus!"

And with a roar of anger he rushed at one of the Masai who had
triumphantly thrust his long spear into the elephant's hide. The
warrior gave one look, then vanished with a long leap, while the
disgusted doctor pulled out the spear and flung it after him.

"Afraid they'll spoil your skin, eh?" laughed the explorer. The swift
change from the tragic to the ridiculous restored them all to even
balance once more, and they went forward to examine the kill. It was
indeed a wonderful example of shooting, the whole affair having taken
hardly more than two or three minutes, and Charlie found it hard to
realize that in such a short space of time they had almost fulfilled the
requirements of the whole world-over expedition.

The bull was a large, old fellow, and the General pronounced his tusks
as weighing at least a hundred and thirty pounds each. It was a great
piece of luck that he should have wandered out of the wilds almost to
their side, for full-grown bulls with good tusks are rarely found. The
big Teuton pronounced him exactly suitable for one of his groups.

The two cows who had been shot together were both of good size; the
third was smaller. The two largest were selected for skinning, together
with the calves. For a few moments the doctor sketched and
photographed, then handed over the task of skinning to Guru and his two
assistants, who were thoroughly qualified.

"Do you want to stay by them?" asked Schoverling. "If not, we might get
back to camp by dark, and they can bring in the sections of skin."

"The Sikh knows all about it," replied von Hofe. "Yes, he will see that
they are careful. Let us go back and rest."

As the explorer captured one of the guides and explained his wishes, the
boys gazed at the scene before them. Stripped naked, the natives were
swarming over the great carcasses, which had to be skinned without a
moment's delay. Most of them were already splashed with blood, festoons
of meat were dripping from the branches, and the busy hands and knives
were making fast progress with the work. It was not a nice scene, and
Charlie turned away; but Jack watched it until the explorer called him.

Carrying their own guns now, they found the trip back to camp a weary
one. All were tired and hungry, not having eaten since morning, and it
was dark when they finally stumbled into camp, to be met with exultant
shouts. Runners had already come across the forest paths bearing loads
of meat, and after a good wash in one of the mountain streams the four
sat down to a delicious meal of broiled elephant's heart and flapjacks,
with tea for beverage.

"Do you chaps realize that we almost accomplished the work of this
expedition in about two minutes?" asked the General, smiling. The boys
leaned back with a sigh of content.

"I don't care," returned Charlie. "I got all I wanted of elephant
hunting, and that's flat, General. My knees are shaking yet."

"It was sheer luck, though," said von Hofe as he filled his pipe and
settled back in his folding chair. "We will not find another bull like
that for a hundred miles."

"Well, I'm just as glad it's over," announced Jack. "Now we can strike
for parts unknown and enjoy life. We haven't struck any real work yet."

"You'll get work enough before you're through," said the explorer
grimly. And as it turned out, Jack did.




CHAPTER VIII

A RECONNAISSANCE


"Well, General, what's doing next?"

It was the morning after the great hunt, and they had just finished a
delicious breakfast of roasted calves' feet and bananas. The explorer
was puffing at his briar luxuriously, and turned to the doctor.

"Guru says that the skins are on the way now, Doctor. How long will it
take you to get them in shape to go back?"

"Ten days," returned the German, whose cases were all piled in readiness
before an open space.

"Need us here?"

"No. Get out and keep those boys from bothering me."

"Good!" laughed the explorer, and turned lazily to Charlie. "Feel like
starting out this morning? I want to push ahead on horseback and trace
out the route for the wagons. I've got it pretty well lined out now, but
we've got to make sure about provisions and all that."

"I'm willing," announced Charlie, and Jack nodded unconcernedly.

So, just as the Masai and Kikuyu, who had worked all night, came in with
the skins of the slain elephants, the three rode out together. The
Indians were highly disappointed that they were not to go along, but the
explorer did not wish to be bothered with them, and they would be
useless on this excursion.

Schoverling had provided himself with government maps showing the
villages, and the best route across the plateau and through the hills
had been traced out for him. On second thought, however, he sent back
for Gholab Singh, who knew most of the native dialects from his years of
residence in the country, and left the camp in charge of Guru instead.

At noon they struck into the caravan track from the north, and stopped
at each village in passing, where Gholab made inquiries. They found that
there was no lack of chickens, and wild fowl might be had on every hand
for the shooting. As for vegetables, every village had its mealie patch,
yams, bananas, a beet-like plant, and other greens which none of the
three recognized, but which Gholab assured them were excellent eating.
Besides, there were quantities of fish in the streams. On the whole,
Charlie was amazed at the readiness with which food could be had; while
to Jack, used to a hard-earned rabbit or trap-line in the snows, the
quantity of game was astounding.

"I don't think we'll have any trouble living off the land," chuckled the
General that night. They had camped beside a mountain stream. In place
of tents, their hand axes lopped off a brush shelter in short order. A
trout-like fish was plentiful in the stream, and half a dozen of these
were soon broiling. These, with fried bananas and tea, made a generous
meal.

"Can't see the sense o' fetching them traps," grunted Jack. "Better
leave 'em behind when we start. What good are they?"

"I don't know, Jack. Can't tell what we'll strike, though."

"Where does this caravan route go to?" asked Charlie. "This looks as if
it was deserted."

"Oh, a caravan of camels and horses comes down about once a year from
the lakes up north, toward the Abyssinian border. We only follow it over
the plateau with the wagons."

There was no doubt that the route, which existed on the map only, was
practicable for the light wagons. The next day they were among the
hills, in high altitudes, and here the game almost vanished for the next
two days. The villages of the natives were scattered, but those that
they found had more cultivated land near by than the others, which made
up for the scarcity of game. The wagons were much under-loaded, and were
taken more to bring back what might be found north of the Lorian swamp
than for anything else.

"Seems to me," said Charlie on the third day, as he thawed out a gourd
full of water that had frozen overnight, "that we could load up the
wagons with green stuff when we go through here. That last village we
came through was plumb chuck full o' pumpkins."

"Melons, you mean," laughed Jack. "I dug into one. There was some
squash, though, in the back fields. How far we going, General?"

Schoverling consulted his pocket-map and compass before replying.

"We ought to be near the station of the commissioner of the district
now. If we don't strike it by night we may as well go back. I've found
out what we came for."

About noon, however, they came to a long unpainted frame building with
corrugated iron roof, set in the midst of a grove of small trees. At the
rear were stables and a great corral of wire netting, in which grazed a
herd of ostriches. As they rode up to the door one or two natives came
out, and a khaki-clad Englishman with shoulder-straps rushed out to
receive them.

"Hello!" laughed Schoverling as he shook hands. "This is the
commissioner--Captain Yonge?"

"Yes--and this is the famous Schoverling, I'll wager," smiled the
clean-shaven officer. "But where's von Hofe? I got word from down
country to watch out for him."

Matters were soon explained, and they joined Yonge at lunch. An hour
later a dozen trim King's African Rifles cantered up--Zulus all, under
command of Yonge, who maintained order through two hundred miles of
savagery.

"Say, the old M. P. ain't in it with this!" said Jack that evening, as
he and Charlie wandered out to inspect the ostrich farm. "Hear that yarn
he told about nabbing those ju-ju murderers last year, single-handed.
No wonder he got a D. S. O. for it!"

"And they do it all with native troops, too," added Charlie
thoughtfully. "You've got to hand it to the British for governing by
force of character, right enough. Wonder what the country gets like on
the other side of this plateau. Let's find out."

But they found out little. Captain Yonge said that beyond the Guaso
Nyero, in the north, the region was practically unexplored. After the
great river was left behind there were deserts, strange tribes, great
morasses, and the "going" was exceedingly "tough."

"Did you ever hear of a Lake Quilqua?" asked Charlie.

"Often," and the commissioner chuckled. "But, as you Americans say,
there's 'nothing in it.' These natives will make up all kinds of yarns,
simply to amuse us."

Yonge himself had tried to penetrate the country to the northeast, but
had found it impracticable, as he could not get away for very long.
Other explorers had sheered off to the easier country to south and
northwest, but he agreed that if they wanted a big bull, a rogue, they
would stand a better chance of getting one in there than anywhere else.

"When you stop with the wagons," he said, "I'll give you some
water-casks. They may come in handy, as I know from experience."

All remained the next day, highly interested in the court of justice
being held over a dispute between two villages. The little plain on
which lay the commissioner's station was not cultivated, but it lay in
the central part of his district, and was eminently suited for ostrich
farming, which was his hobby.

They set out on a leisurely return to the little safari, accompanied for
a few miles by the soldierly Zulus. They were well received by the
natives, for except in a few spots of Africa, there is to-day nothing
but respect for the whites; the dangers of early explorations have
largely passed away under the influence of the far-reaching prestige of
civilization. The natives are as savage as ever, but they have tasted
the retribution of English and German justice, and have little liking
for it.

The four trotted along, Gholab making arrangements with the natives at
each village to give them a large supply of fruit and vegetables, but
they did no shooting as it was possible to get sheep, goats, or fowl
from the natives and fish from the streams and pools. They had timed
their ride to get back to the doctor in the evening, and on the morning
of their last day's march they came upon a large party of natives
setting off into the jungle.

"Want to go along?" smiled the explorer. "Judging from their primitive
digging implements, they're going to make an elephant pit."

"You bet!" cried the boys. Slipping from their horses, which were left
in charge of Gholab Singh, all three joined the natives, who received
them with delight, and all set off along an old elephant track.

"Guess they think we'll bring 'em good luck," grinned Jack. "Got your
camera, Chuck?"

Charlie fortunately had brought it, and an hour later he put it into
active operation, to the curiosity and childish amusement of the
negroes. They had stopped in a little open space full of fresh spoor and
elephant signs, and a score of natives were instantly at work clearing
off the ground at three points. The boys were amazed at the rapidity
with which the work was accomplished with the primitive implements.
Chanting a loud, monotonous chorus, the natives threw themselves into
the work and speedily had three pits started. These were about four feet
wide and twelve long at the top.

"It's against the law for them to kill elephants," said Schoverling,
"but they pay little enough heed to that. There are hundreds of these
pits scattered between here and Kenia."

"How do they watch them all?" asked Charlie. "They must have an awful
time keeping track of their trap-line!"

"They don't watch them," laughed the explorer. "They wait till they see
the vultures and jackals heading somewhere, and trail along. An elephant
lives for days after he is trapped, for you'll see that the pits narrow
down at the bottom, and his feet are wedged in so that he can't move."

"He must be pretty ripe by the time they get to him," returned Jack
disgustedly.

"They don't care for that. These Ndorobo are little better than carrion
feeders anyway, and once an elephant is caught a whole village is
stocked in meat for a long time."

As the holes were dug deeper, others of the natives carried off the
dirt, scattering it carefully in the depths of the jungle. The boys
secured some excellent views of the proceedings, but they were unable to
remain for the entire digging. The finished pit would be about ten feet
in depth, and at the bottom scarcely a foot wide. Fortunately for white
hunters these pits were not staked, as after a week or two the slight
covering of sticks, leaves and dirt is overlaid with vines and
vegetation that completely conceals it from sight. Indeed, they had
passed more than one pit on their way.

A guide was sent back with them when they left the scene of operation. A
little after noon as they neared the safari they came upon a village
which was in great excitement. The day before, a man had been killed and
another badly gored by a bull buffalo, and the wounded man was then in
camp under the doctor's care. The villagers appealed to the white men to
kill the buffalo, and the latter needed little urging.

"You want to be careful," said Schoverling as they advanced on foot with
some of the men. "A buffalo is about the most dangerous of beasts in
these parts. Shoot to cripple him, never mind the head."

The buffalo was located in a patch of reeds and long swamp-grass near a
pool only a few miles distant. Further approach was impossible, and they
remained on dry ground while the natives tried to beat out the animal.
In this they were all too successful. With a crash, the powerful beast
swept through the reeds and charged a group of warriors, who scattered
to shelter with yells and splashings.

"All right, Charlie," said Schoverling, quietly.

Charlie put a bullet behind the shoulder just in time to save a Kikuyu
man. The bull whirled like a flash, and as he did so two more broke
cover and charged with a bellow. Jack halted one with a stunning bullet
that shattered against its skull. The explorer dropped the other,
breaking its shoulder at the first shot.

Then the other came on full tilt, with lowered head. Charlie emptied his
magazine at the one he had first wounded, and all four shots took
effect, breaking the animal's back and killing him instantly. Jack's
bull got within fifty yards of them before the boy fired again,
imitating the action of the explorer with the bull elephant. Taking
careful aim, he pulled trigger when he was sure of his shot, and the
bull crashed down into the swamp-reeds badly wounded and seemingly
helpless.

The natives darted forward with yells of triumph, but with a final
effort the brute clambered up and nearly caught them. Jack put a bullet
through its eye, however, that finished it, and the hunt was over. The
natives went into ecstacies of delight, dancing around and thanking the
three hunters exuberantly.

"That is not useless slaughter," said Schoverling as they returned to
the horses. "These buffalo are hard on the natives, breaking into their
mealie patches and tearing things up badly. They will charge without the
least provocation, and the natives can't stand before them. We did a
good turn to this village, certainly."

They remounted and rode on, but their halts had delayed them, and it was
nearly dark when they finally rode into the safari and were greeted
with loud yells by the Masai, while the big German came forward with
smiling countenance and bade them welcome home again.




CHAPTER IX

INTO THE UNKNOWN


"Well, Doctor," announced Schoverling the next morning, "How near
through are you? The sooner we get off the better."

"I will be through to-morrow night," said von Hofe contentedly. "The
skins have been pared down to the right thickness, and to-day and
to-morrow they will be fixed up and sent off. What does the country look
like ahead?"

"It looks like several weeks of rough work," smiled the explorer. "We'll
have no trouble in getting on, at least for the present. When we strike
down into the plains on the north, however, we may have a harder time.
But there are fig-trees in plenty, and on the northern rivers cabbage
palms and other wild fruits which ought to supply us. Then we can count
on leaving on the third morning?"

Von Hofe nodded, and fell to work. The sections of skins were set out
on the ground and by this time were well dried, while their superfluous
thickness had been pared off by scores of Kikuyu and Masai knives. Now
the doctor mixed gourd after gourd of his preparative, and set the
natives to work rubbing it into the under side of the skins.

At one side stood the skulls and a few other bones, boiled clear of all
flesh and varnished. These, with the tusks of the bull, the doctor began
packing up while the skins were being attended to. Guru and the other
Indians did all this work with great care, to the entire satisfaction of
the scientist. Then the well-wrapped packages were slung to poles, for
greater safety and more ease in carriage, and by evening were ready.

The boys pitched in and gave good assistance in this work, directing the
natives in putting on coat after coat of preservative and rubbing it in
well. But von Hofe was everywhere, mixing his chemicals, seeing that
everything was done exactly as he wished it, and seemingly endowed with
superhuman energy.

"He's no slouch when he gets a-going," murmured Charlie that night, as
von Hofe was getting his sketches and films into shape for packing.

"He's done more hustling to-day than on all the rest of the trip put
together."

"That's no lie," agreed Jack. "I kind of thought the old boy was a
bluff, at first. But he's all to the good, Chuck. Shouldn't wonder if he
surprised us a heap later on."

The next day everything was packed up that could be got ready. The skins
were still staked out to dry thoroughly, but the Indians could attend to
them, and Schoverling was impatient to be off. Fifty Kikuyu men were
hired to take the stuff back, under the lead of the Arab and the two
Somalis, who were intelligent and thoroughly reliable. The spare Gurkha
was to accompany them.

So far the oxen had got along in fine shape, and when it came to loading
the wagons, Charlie in charge of this duty, found that their equipment
was light indeed.

"Look here, Gen'ral," he complained late that afternoon, "the doctor has
used up ten cases of his stuff. That leaves only five, with his little
brass trunk. Then there's that case of tomatoes we haven't opened yet,
another of baked beans, the ammunition and guns, tents and Gholab
Singh's little stove, and the traps. The whole business won't make a
quarter-load for one wagon."

"So much the better for the oxen," returned the explorer. "We'll load up
as we go along, Chuck. Jack, I'll appoint you commissary-major, to bring
in the supplies of green stuff and vegetables. You can take Gholab as
interpreter. It'll be up to you to load, Charlie. We won't have to do
much hunting till after we pass the commissioner's place, except for the
Masai."

"I'll give you all the work you can handle," prophesied Jack, to his
chum. "You just wait!"

The next morning the safari filed out from the camp, the Masai greeting
the inspanning with huge delight. Bakari and his men promised that they
would accompany Schoverling as far as he wished to go, and the boys were
struck more than once by the utter fearlessness of these Masai, who had
absolutely no dread of advancing into a strange country.

The march, however, was by no means fast. Von Hofe remained to see his
skins safely off, promising to catch up to them later. As before, they
made forced marches, for the oxen were fresh and the work was light for
them now. Now, as Schoverling had foretold, Jack got all the work he
wanted. With three three-hour halts a day, Jack and Gholab rode on ahead
and got everything ready for each halt--bartered for goats and sheep and
chickens, obtained what vegetables and fruit the natives could spare,
and when the wagons arrived Charlie pitched in and loaded up.

So tired were the boys that at night they wrapped up in their blankets
and dozed as they rode. Once they passed a herd of at least fifty
buffalo, which gathered in a clump, horns out, and pawed the ground and
bellowed as the wagons passed. Fortunately, no charge was made, and all
drew a breath of relief when the danger was over.

They finally drew up to the station with the wagons loaded high. Captain
Yonge greeted von Hofe delightedly, and they rested there for a day. A
dozen small water-casks were slung beneath the wagons, to be filled
later. As they were departing a native runner came up with news that
caused the commissioner to saddle in haste.

"There's an outbreak fifty miles to the west," he said, his men
appearing from their own building. "We've got to go over and quash
things before the riot spreads. Well, good luck to you all! Sorry I
can't be with you!"

Both boys were glad enough to hasten on. The high altitude was not good
for the oxen, and the cold nights disgusted both of them, for they were
hardly prepared to meet cold in this region. Day and night they forced
the march along, and were soon rewarded by drawing through valleys and
slopes to the plains once more.

As they went forward the vegetation changed. There was no jungle ahead
of them--only long rolling slopes dotted with thorntree patches and
covered with long thick grass. More than once lions trotted away before
them, and on one occasion they were forced to kill a lioness that
charged full at the wagons.

"It is beautiful country," exclaimed von Hofe enthusiastically, pointing
to the mountain peaks that shot up on every side. "Some day it will be
grand farms, when the soil is watered. See, it is volcanic."

He picked up a stone, showing them the indications of volcanic origin.
Here and there palms towered up, and when they camped beside a river
the next evening the vegetation bordered its banks thickly. Of game
there was no lack, and that night the three took their gun-bearers and
sallied forth.

"We ought to find a deer-run along this river," declared Jack.
Schoverling smiled.

"According to the map it's a branch of the Guaso Nyero, and the last big
stream we strike. To-morrow we head off to the northeast, and into the
mapless country. See if you can run across any tracks, boys."

Charlie and Jack separated and after twenty minutes' search in the dusk
Charlie located an open glade in a great grove of mimosas, where the
deep tracks showed that hundreds of animals were in the habit of
watering. Von Hofe had followed them and now joined the party, bearing a
little rifle which he had carried in sections in his tiny brass trunk.

"I am something going to shoot," he said, paying no attention to their
jests. "Is it allowed to smoke?"

"Not much," chuckled Jack. "You just sit tight and wait. What you going
to shoot?"

"I want a good oryx head," declared the scientist. "But I will shoot him
myself."

That was a wonderful night to the two boys. Hour after hour they waited
until the moon came up, and before them filed uncounted hundreds of
animals. There were great droves of zebra, giraffes by the score, three
or four rhinoceroses who plunged across the stream and vanished, herd
after herd of gazelle, antelope, and wildebeest, and a magnificent drove
of the cow-like eland.

Lions abounded, but the other animals paid them no attention, nor did
the great cats come for game; they would appear, drink, and slink away,
two or three even swimming across the stream. Toward midnight a number
of oryx were seen, their long, black, sword-like horns mixed with a herd
of zebra. So far not a shot had been fired, but without warning von Hofe
raised his little sporting rifle and fired twice.

Instantly the game was off, with a great clicking of hoofs and startled
snorts. The explorer and the two boys at once picked out their animals
and opened fire. To his vast delight, von Hofe's oryx bounded high and
fell dead; it was found that both bullets had gone through the heart.

Schoverling put down another oryx and a zebra, whose flesh the Masai
delighted in, though it was too tough for the others. Jack and Charlie
each dropped an eland, Jack wounding a hartebeest which got away in the
rush. An instant later, only the thunder of hoofs dying away in the
distance showed what vast herds had been there.

The next day they headed by compass for the northeast, which would take
them into the supposed desert country, but clear of the great Lorian
swamp. Here for the first time they began to be tormented by
flies--great long insects such as the boys had never seen, and which
rendered fly-nets necessary to their tents at night. Had it not been for
them, the tents might have remained unused, for the whites needed them
little and the Indians slept in the wagons.

Once they came to an outlying village of the Samburu--a nomad people
dwelling farther south. Here they found not only cattle, sheep and
goats, but herds of camels, which were kept for their milk and hair
alone. These villagers knew nothing of what lay beyond, save that it was
desert and uninhabitable.

So, with full water-casks, a renewed store of figs, cabbage-palm tops,
and other vegetables, the safari pushed into the desert, going forward
day and night. Charlie, much to his surprise and disgust, found that the
Masai had little need for water, drinking the blood of game instead, "to
make their hearts fierce." This, however, was a great saving to their
supply.

There were many hyenas scattered over the district, and these the boys
shot wherever found, as they are a perfect scourge and good for nothing.
The earth was sun-baked, and the explorer declared that no water had
fallen here for possibly a year or more, which the boys could well
believe. The game gave place to giraffes, ostriches, and a few varieties
of the plains antelope, so that each day they had to circle farther from
the camp to secure enough.

Day after day they pushed forward, skirting at times the edge of miasmic
swamps, and generally sticking to the desolate plain. They refilled
their casks at occasional water-holes, and the oxen used little water on
the march. Von Hofe made no comment, until two weeks of this had passed
with no sign of approaching villages or elephant country. Then, one
night, he gave voice to his thoughts.

[Illustration: For the man, just as he relapsed into unconsciousness,
murmured four words: "Help--me debbil man!"]

"Are you sure, Schoverling, that there is anything beyond this? It to me
seems not much like elephant country."

"I'm taking a chance, Doctor," returned the dust-caked explorer. "This
desert is bound to loosen up sometime, and there is surely elephant
country ahead. Give us another week; then if we strike nothing I'll head
around toward Lake Rudolph and the mountains."

The other nodded, and said no more. Charlie and Jack had also grown
weary of the desolate surroundings, but no complaint had come from the
Masai. Two days later one of the oxen died, and on the third day
another, from unexplained causes. Then, on the fifth morning, a yell of
delight went up from all at sight of green trees ahead.

"It's a drift," exclaimed Charlie, examining the slender line of trees
as they pushed their horses on.

"What's that under those big mimosas?" called Jack. "Looks like a native
hut."

"Right you are, Jack!" cried the explorer. "Come on Guru!"

They advanced at a gallop, leaving the wagons far behind. Half an hour
later they came to the drift--a wide, rocky little valley through which
trickled a tiny stream of water. No sign of natives appeared, however,
until their horses had watered and they clambered over the stones on
foot toward the single hut beneath the mimosas. Then, as Jack shouted
aloud, a man appeared in the doorway, crawling toward them on hands and
knees.

"The poor devil's all in," exclaimed Schoverling. "Careful, boys! He may
have the plague."

"Let me go first," said the German quietly. They could see that the man,
who seemed to be an Arab, was frightfully emaciated. His head was bound
up, and half-healed thorn-scars covered his body. Von Hofe beckoned them
to come on, as he knelt beside the poor wretch, but as the boys came to
his side a startled exclamation broke from them.

For the man, just as he relapsed into unconsciousness, murmured four
words.

"Help--me debbil man!"




CHAPTER X

MOWBRAY'S END


"He iss starved," exclaimed von Hofe. "See what iss in the hut. I will
care for him."

Charlie, Jack and Schoverling, with a single glance of amazement at the
words of the senseless Arab, advanced to the hut while the Indians
clustered about von Hofe. The shelter was a crude one, of bushes and
grass, built against the trunk of one of the great mimosas.

"There's a man in here!" cried Charlie as they stood in the doorway.

Before them, lying on a bed of leaves, was the figure of a man in
European clothes. His head, one arm, and side were bound in
blood-stained bandages. On his chest lay his right hand, still gripping
a pencil, while on his knees lay an old letter, scribbled over. With a
cry of pity, Schoverling knelt at the man's side--but started up again
in horror.

"Good heavens!" His voice rang with a note that struck Charlie's heart.
"It is Mowbray--dead!"

They pressed forward, and saw that the man was indeed dead. And Mowbray
it was--his cheeks fallen in, the bandage half-concealing his face, but
the iron chin locked grimly as ever in the last battle.

"Yes," said Jack softly. "He's dead, right enough. Must have passed out
not long ago, though. Let's see what that letter says, Chuck."

Charlie leaned over and picked up the paper sheets. The hut was
absolutely bare, save for an empty revolver that lay on the earthen
floor. With a shudder the boys emerged into the sunlight again, followed
by Schoverling. The wagon had not yet come up, and the doctor was
standing over the Arab. He turned at their approach.

"No use, mine friends. He iss dead--was ist das? A letter?"

He peered down at the paper in Charlie's hand. Without a word the boy
handed it to Schoverling. The wagons were just creeping through the
first trees, toward the water, and the Indians rushed off to restrain
the oxen from plunging into the stream.

"Come over here into the shade," said the explorer quietly. "Mowbray is
lying in there, Doctor, dead, and seemingly pretty badly wounded.
Perhaps these two sheets will throw some light on the situation."

They sat down around him beneath one of the big trees, and for a moment
there was dead silence as the explorer examined the scrawled writing on
the two sheets of paper and tattered envelope. Von Hofe nervously filled
his pipe, nearly dropping it in the attempt.

"He seems to have written this after he got to the hut here," began the
explorer. "It has no date and runs on in disconnected sentences." He
paused, a catch in his voice. After a moment he went on, with no further
sign of the emotion that must have possessed him.

"'Yesterday the camel died. Conscious but helpless. Arm, leg, ribs and
head broken. Five days travel, to south. Zahir hurt, but managed to drag
me to river and trees. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, whence
cometh--'

"That's the first of it," said the explorer. At this moment Gholab
approached and saluted respectfully, his bearded face immobile. "Well,
what is it?"

"Does the sahib wish to outspan here?"

"Yes. Outspan and pitch camp for to-day. And, Gholab, have two graves
dug at the top of this little rise."

The Gurkha saluted and wheeled. Charlie caught an excited look from
Jack, and then gave his attention to the General once more.

"'Zahir has built a hut. Could get away but refuses. No cartridges in
revolver. Z. is cutting up camel. Tough but nourishing. Have hopes. If I
pull out will reward Z. for life.'

"That's the second bunch of sentences, written on the envelope. The next
seems to come on the back of the letter, and is addressed doubly."

The explorer swept his eye down the two dirty, torn papers, and then
read slowly:

"'To Selim ben Amoud or Louis Schoverling. Whoever finds, take to them.

"'Fever for two weeks. Camel gone bad, no cartridges. Zahir-ed-din ben
Yusuf has caught some mice for me and starved self. No hope left unless
L. S. comes. Am weaker, and Z. has fever.

"'In watchcase is plan of Selim's. Struck east from Lake Sugota with
camels. Had brush with British but shook them off. Into desert five days
full speed. Country deserted. Chain of small lakes, woods, hills as
indicated on plan. Deserted ruined huts, no natives. Found Lake Quilqua
to south of others.'"

"What!" cried Charlie. "Is that there, General? Is it--"

"You vill keep quiet, please!" rumbled von Hofe. Charlie subsided as the
General nodded. Jack said nothing, only his flushed cheeks and gleaming
eyes showing his eagerness.

"'Lake fed by hot springs. Water warm, very reedy. Crossed to island
fifty yards from shore. Found stronghold ruined, slave irons and
neck-rings, plenty of skeletons. Evidently place was swept by plague,
none escaping. Burned slave-barracoon and house. All very old--at least
ten years. Slavers' stronghold explains desolated country. Natives all
skipped or slaves.

"'Z. and I located big ivory cache under left gate-post. Went back to
camp for men, found dying Arab. Gigantic buffalo gored him. Rest gone
with camels. Big python showed up; all scared out. Found camel in trees
and stayed to look around. Stories true. Shot two buffalo--suggested
prehistoric type, great horns. Shot python, thirty-nine feet.

"'Guns safe. Third day found elephant spoor. Could hardly believe it.
Sighted and caught him by deserted native village. Rogue, fine trophy
for L. S. Biggest ever saw, must stand fourteen feet or better. Ivory
twelve feet. Z. game to tackle him, next day.

"'Rogue didn't wait. Tackled us before dawn. One foot came down through
tent, missed me by six inches. Rolled out and grabbed gun. Z. knocked
senseless. Fired once, but rogue placed trunk around me and threw me
twenty feet into bushes. Senseless.

"'Woke up to find rogue gone. Z. pulled me out of thorns and tied me up.
Badly smashed. Amputated left hand at wrist. Elephant had smashed guns,
with all he could find. Z. lost his nerve. Don't wonder. He caught the
camel unhurt. I told him to head south to find L. S. or natives, then
fainted again.

"'Don't remember much of what happened next. Z. says we rode bareback.
Held me in his arms all the way. Five days. No water or grub. Camel
died with river only hundred yards away, poor brute. That's all.'"

The explorer paused, trying to make out the last few lines, which seemed
almost illegible. Charlie stared, gulping down a sob at the bare recital
of that terrible journey. It was hard to realize that only a few weeks
ago he had seen and talked with the intrepid little man who lay cold in
death on his bed of leaves, and whose last words were being read to
them.

"This last is pretty faint," said Schoverling with expressionless voice.
"It's the last thing he wrote, and he seems to have failed at the end.
Here is what I can make out of it:

"'Z. knocked over a vulture two days ago from carcass of camel. Made him
take half, and he promised to go for help. Was too weak and came back.
I'm pretty near gone. If you get this, L. S., go kill that rogue for me.
Ivory worth while in cache. Feel cold to waist--must be going. Great
news for British, eh? Thank God I've lived a decent life, according to
my lights.'"

Schoverling's voice died away, and they knew he had reached the end.
Without another word the explorer rose to his feet, walked a few paces
and stood gazing over the river with his back toward them. Von Hofe,
sucking his unlighted pipe, made no secret of the tears that trickled
over his dusty blond beard. Charlie and Jack gazed at each other in awed
silence, for that last letter was very vivid and very real to them both.

"He ampudaded hiss own hand--ach!" said the big German huskily, at last.

At the words, Schoverling turned and came slowly back to them, his face
set and hard. Behind them the Masai were digging the graves under the
direction of Akram Das, and the oxen were splashing about in the shallow
silver thread of the river.

"Five days by camel--that would mean at least a week or ten days with
the wagons," said the explorer quietly, looking at von Hofe. The German
met the look and nodded.

"Yess. We shall do as he ordered."

"Do you mean that we are going to Lake Quilqua?" exclaimed Jack eagerly.

"We are, Jack. There is no reason why we should not bring back that
rogue. He's just the fellow we're after, as--as poor Mowbray said." His
voice shook a little. "If we'd only arrived a day or two sooner!"

"It can't be helped, General," returned Charlie softly. "We could not
know that he was here, and we might have done no good anyhow. Those last
words of his were fine."

"That letter will be framed, some day," said the explorer, "and it'll
hang where every man in the Explorer's Club will be proud of it. What a
fine fellow that Arab was, too! I'm heartsick to think that we failed to
save him."

"It was no use," von Hofe rose to his feet calmly. "It was starvation
and wounds. He was a good man, yes. My friends, we will bring that
rogue's skin back, and those others. What a triumph of science!"

"That letter said something 'bout there bein' a plan in his watch-case,
Gen'ral," spoke up Jack. Schoverling nodded, and turned to the hut. A
moment later he came out, a smashed and bent gold watch in his hand.
This they managed to pry open with a knife, and the explorer pulled out
a tiny, many-folded map of onion-skin paper. The tracings were made in a
brown ink, with marks that meant nothing to the boys.

"Arabic," explained Schoverling briefly. "Evidently it was supplied to
Mowbray by Selim ben Amoud. From what I can make out, it is a plan of
the chain of lakes Mowbray mentions. Here is one off by itself to the
south, named Quilqua. Well, this does us no good. Let's get down to
cases."

"One thing is sure," s