The Forest of Mystery

“Cecil! Come with Mamma now. You must dress for dinnah.”

“Fer gosh sakes” murmured Bob, under his breath.

A very tall, smiling woman was beckoning to the young man, who obeyed her without delay.

“Really, I’m most charmed to have met you chaps,” he said, turning to leave. “I sincerely trust that we may meet again soon.”

With this he walked lightly down the deck with the woman.

Bob and Joe watched the pair closely until they closed the cabin door behind them. Then the youths burst into laughter which lasted for well over a minute.

“For the love of Mike!” cried Bob, as soon as he could get his breath. “Talk about sissies. That fellow’s at the very top of the list.”

“‘Mamma’ sure has him under her thumb, all right,” grinned Joe. “It’s a wonder she doesn’t put dresses on him. But come on, Bob. It’s about time for dinner to be served. Unless I miss my guess, Cecil won’t last very long at the table. Boat’s been rolling lately, you know.”

The chums went to their stateroom to wash and comb. Then, accompanied by their fathers, they went up to the dining saloon.

The food tasted good, both youths eating heartily. Evidently they were now seasoned sailors, for neither felt the slightest signs of seasickness.

But with someone else, seated near them at another table, it was entirely a different matter. For Cecil Stone’s face was beginning to turn a sickly yellow, and with each bite of food he was visibly becoming more affected.

“Dear me!” the chums heard him say. “I really can’t take another bite of that beastly salad.”

“Perhaps you would feel bettah if you would go to your suite, Cecil darling. Appahantly you aren’t feeling well today.”

“There he goes,” whispered Bob, his eyes following the tall, stooping figure. “He can’t take it.”

CHAPTER XII

A Disappointing Announcement

MUCH as Bob and Joe expected, Cecil Purl Stone did not put in his appearance the remainder of that day. Nor did he appear in the cabin the next. In fact, it was two days later that he was seen walking down the promenade deck. Even then he was unusually pale and haggard looking.

At a suggestion from Joe the chums walked purposely up to the young man.

“How do you like the way the ship’s rolling?” Joe asked him, with a wink at Bob.

“Oh, it’s simply deplorable!” returned Cecil, rubbing his forehead. “There certainly should be something done about it. Don’t you know, I’m terribly afraid that if this continues much longer I shall become ill again.”

“Ill? Were you ill?” inquired Bob, with an attempt at innocence.

“Oh, it was horrible!” moaned Cecil Purl. “I declare I never experienced anything quite like it before. I do not see how I ever escaped alive!”

“But you’ve taken ocean voyages before, haven’t you?” asked Joe.

“I most certainly have, my dear chap. But, don’t you know, I never have escaped that dreadful seasickness. Not even as much as once.”

“That’s too bad,” said Bob sympathetically. “But, then, some people aren’t as lucky as others. It’s a fortunate thing, though, that the weather has remained calm.”

“Will it last, though?” queried Joe, keeping an eye on Cecil Purl Stone. “For all we know, there may come a violent storm tonight.”

“Gracious!” the slender young man gasped. “What should I ever do if that should happen? I believe I would surely go distracted.”

“He’d probably go to his suite,” laughed Bob a little later.

Contrary to Joe’s remark, there were no signs of a storm that night. In fact, the weather was most delightful, and many of the passengers spent the time on deck, taking advantage of the cool night breeze. Bob and Joe and their fathers were among those passengers.

“There’s nothing like the spell of the ocean,” murmured Mr. Lewis, as he sat staring up at the star-studded sky.

“Wait till we get to the tropics,” Bob’s father reminded him. “This won’t be anything then.”

“Right you are, Mr. Holton,” came from Joe. “But just where do we land in Africa? I know it’s somewhere along the east coast, but the particular city I don’t know.”

“We’ll pull into Mombasa,” his father explained. “It’s a place of considerable importance and is the eastern terminal of the Uganda Railway. We won’t stay there any longer than we can help. Howard and I would, however, like to look up an old friend whom we haven’t seen for some time. But as soon as we can we’ll get started into the interior.”

“I suppose from what you said that we’ll take a train as far as possible. Right?” asked Bob.

The naturalists nodded.

“That railroad was made to order for us,” said Mr. Lewis. “If it weren’t there, it would mean a long and painful hike through a region that is unimportant to us.”

“Unimportant? Why?” inquired Joe.

“Simply because we are not permitted to shoot any animal in the protectorate,” Mr. Holton explained. “You see, the English have made this a sort of park for the benefit of those who wish to view wild creatures in their natural habitat. For that reason – and also there are others – we intend to penetrate deep into the Congo forests.”

Several days later the Zanzibar steamed through the Strait of Gibraltar and passed into the Mediterranean, going so near the famous huge rock that it was plainly visible in the thin morning air.

“Isn’t that a sight for your eyes, though!” remarked Bob, gazing ahead intently.

“If it were night they would probably play searchlights on our boat,” said Joe.

“What? Searchlights? What are you talking about?”

“Dad told me that there are several forts at the rock,” Joe explained, “and the authorities there have the searchlights to light up the strait. In case of war, I suppose they would come in handy.”

As time passed, the ship steamed on through the Mediterranean, past shores that were famous in ancient history. Although the Zanzibar had not yet entered the tropics, the heat was becoming unbearable, the chums and their fathers seeking the cool retreat of the swimming pool.

Then one clear morning they were able to make out the form of a lighthouse, and a little later they pulled into Port Said, at the Mediterranean end of the Suez Canal.

“Look out for the heat now,” laughed Mr. Lewis, when they were again on their way.

“Heat’s no word for it,” groaned Bob some time later, as he loosened his necktie. “It’s torture.”

Hemmed in on both sides by two of the hottest deserts in the world, the Red Sea proved to be a veritable inferno. So hot was it that even the swimming pool did not offer a haven of refuge.

“Here’s hoping the Red Sea doesn’t close in on us,” laughed Joe. “It did on Pharaoh’s men, you know, in Biblical times.”

“Guess there isn’t any danger,” came from Bob, fanning himself vigorously. “We haven’t anything but good intentions.”

Cecil Purl Stone also found the heat torturing.

“Why don’t you take off your coat?” asked Bob. “You’ll smother to death.”

“Mamma says I just must leave it on,” was the reply. “There are ladies on the boat, you know.”

“Phooey!” muttered Joe, under his breath.

At last the Zanzibar emerged into the Indian Ocean, after having steamed through the Red Sea for six days.

Once Bob and Joe were standing at the rail, watching the schools of porpoises, the occasional flying fish, and the less frequent fins of sharks, when they suddenly heard a stamping noise coming from around the promenade deck. Wondering what was meant, they turned and waited.

A moment later appeared Cecil Purl Stone, running awkwardly around the corner.

“Why, what’s the matter?” questioned Joe, trying to refrain from laughing at sight of the slender young man.

Cecil Stone groaned.

“Oh, it is beastly!” he said, stopping for a moment to face the chums.

“What?” demanded Bob. “Tell us about it.”

“That horrible captain just told me there may be a storm,” he explained, wiping the perspiration from his white face.

“Storm? You don’t say!” broke out Joe. “I – Wait. Where are you going?”

“I intend to go to bed without further delay,” answered Cecil promptly. “I tell you, I just can’t stand that dreadful seasickness any more. I’m going to have Mamma give me some medicine.”

The next instant he was gone.

Bob and Joe wanted to laugh, but they had done so so often that they restrained themselves.

“Not wishing him any bad luck, but a guy like that ought to be seasick,” grunted Bob. “He’s the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“But, say, Bob, he said the captain told him there might be a storm, didn’t he? Do you suppose there’ll be one?”

“I can’t see any signs of it,” the other youth returned. “Who knows but that the captain was joking with Cecil? Perhaps he just wanted to get him worried. It’s natural to pick on a sissy, you know.”

Whether Bob was right in his opinion they never knew. But, at any rate, all the remainder of that day and the next passed without any atmospheric disturbance.

“Well, boys, we’ll reach Mombasa tomorrow about noon,” remarked Mr. Holton, moving with Joe’s father up to where the chums were standing.

“Hurray!” yelled Bob. “I’ve enjoyed this voyage, but I’ll be glad to get to Africa.”

“Wonder where Cecil Purl will head for?” laughed Joe.

“Probably straight to the best hotel in the city,” answered Mr. Lewis with a smile, for he also had been amused by Cecil’s feminine traits.

The next day Bob and Joe, together with their fathers, took places at the rail, awaiting their arrival at Mombasa. Several other passengers were already there, and still more came soon after.

Eleven o’clock came. Eleven-thirty. Noon. But no Mombasa.

“Wonder what’s the trouble?” mused Bob, his keen eyes searching the horizon. “We should be there by now.”

“True,” answered his father. “But don’t forget that a ship isn’t exactly like a train. It is much harder to stick closely to time tables on an ocean voyage.”

Notwithstanding this, two o’clock rolled around without any sight of the city of their destination. Many of the passengers were beginning to worry, for they could not conceive of straying so far from the schedule.

Even Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis were starting to wonder. They remained anxiously at the prow, straining their eyes to make out the outlines of the city.

Suddenly, when a heavy cloud lifted, Joe gave a cry of delight.

“It’s land!” he exclaimed, pointing far out over the water. “It won’t be long now.”

Gradually the outlines of the shore line became more distinct, and at last the passengers could make out luxurious tropical vegetation.

“But where’s Mombasa?” demanded Bob, scanning the landscape.

“Looks like it isn’t there,” answered Mr. Lewis.

“What do you mean, Dad?” Joe inquired.

Mr. Lewis was at the point of making a reply when the captain of the ship strode up, on his face a scowl.

“It seems that there has been a slight mistake in our reckoning,” he said. “We are seventy nautical miles to the north.”

CHAPTER XIII

The Lost Scientist

THERE was a buzz of muffled conversation among the passengers, and before anyone could ask anything further, the captain had disappeared into the cabin.

“This is a fine howdy-do,” snorted Joe Lewis, peering out at the shoreline. “What do they take us for, a bunch of livestock?”

“Jove!” exclaimed one of the passengers, looking up through his large glasses. “The bally ship is a good half day’s journey from Mombasa.”

“It’s a horrible shame, that’s what it is,” came from Cecil Purl Stone, who also was at the rail. “Here I am in perfect readiness to look upon Mombasa, and this had to happen. I’m going straight to my suite.”

“Wonder how it all happened?” inquired Bob.

“That we don’t know, Son.” Mr. Holton’s temper was also being tried. “But now that it has happened, there’s no way out, only to wait.”

“I took for granted the Zanzibar’s navigators were competent,” said Mr. Lewis. “However, such things do happen occasionally.”

Although the naturalists and their sons were disappointed, there was nothing they could do but wait. Just how much longer it would be, however, they did not know.

To the vexation of all, the Zanzibar steamed for the remainder of that afternoon and evening without sighting the city of its destination. It was not until eight o’clock that night that Mombasa could be outlined in the distance, and then, of course, only the lights could be seen.

Bob and Joe, together with their fathers and many other passengers, stood at the prow of the ship, waiting for land to come up to meet them.

The broad beam of the vessel’s searchlight illuminated the water ahead perfectly. At last the Zanzibar was making directly for the harbor.

“Not much to be seen at night,” observed Joe. “But I guess we’ll be able to look around in the morning.”

They watched interestedly as the ship moved slowly into the harbor. Aside from a few small ships and native dhows, there was no water traffic in sight. Neither was the dock easily visible.

“Suppose we turn in, boys,” suggested Mr. Holton. “If we get to bed early, we can be up early. And the sooner we put ashore and make arrangements for our exploration venture, the sooner we can be on our way into the heart of Africa.”

The heart of Africa! Bob and Joe thrilled at mention of this. Often had they longed for such a venture into the Dark Continent, but not until now had that longing been satisfied.

The chums needed no urging to follow Mr. Holton’s suggestion to retire, for they desired to be up early the next morning.

“I don’t know whether I can sleep or not, though,” laughed Bob, as he and his friend walked to their stateroom. “I’m afraid I’ll be thinking too much about Africa. Think of it, Joe. We’re here – in Africa!”

“Not quite,” Joe reminded him. “We’re still on the Zanzibar, don’t forget.”

“Gosh! That’s right. I almost forgot.”

The boys slept soundly, but because they had set their “mental alarm clocks,” as Joe called it, they awoke before six in the morning.

But if they considered themselves “early-birds,” they were to throw away the title promptly when they caught sight of their fathers standing on deck with their baggage.

“How in the dickens did you manage to get up so early?” demanded Joe. “You must have got out of bed at four to have brought all that stuff out here.”

“We’ll have a big day before us, boys,” said Mr. Holton. “Let’s leave the ship at once.”

But before doing so the youths walked out to the rail to view their surroundings.

The sight that met their eyes made them gasp, so different was it from anything they had previously seen.

Before them was the new port, which contained numerous docks, warehouses, and the like. To one side they saw the old harbor with its numerous native ships and boats. Beyond the waterfront were the prominent buildings of the city, while not far away was the old Portuguese fort. Farther away was the bright green of endless tropical vegetation.

“So this is Africa,” muttered Bob. “What do you think of it?”

“Pleases me, all right,” grinned Joe. “I’m longing to get into the jungle.”

“Come along, boys.” It was Mr. Holton’s voice. “Gather up your baggage and come back on deck. Do it as rapidly as you can.”

During the next ten minutes the youths worked furiously, attending to such things that they had not already packed. On their way down the hall they stopped at Cecil Stone’s suite to have a parting word with that young man. But apparently he had left, for no one answered the knock.

“The last we’ll see of him, maybe,” remarked Bob, picking up the cases he had been carrying.

On deck, Bob and Joe found a large number of passengers amassed ready to move down the gangplank. There was an exchange of parting words, and the chums left with their fathers and made their way to a hotel, in which they had previously engaged rooms.

“What’s next?” inquired Joe, after they had had breakfast.

“Ben and I want to look up an old friend,” said Mr. Holton. “A Mr. George Seabury. He used to be a mighty hunter.”

“Used to be?” queried Bob. “What do you mean, Dad? Is he old or something?”

“What I meant, Bob, is that several years ago he was charged by a rhino and has not had full use of his legs since. He can walk, but doesn’t do it any too well. Suppose,” he continued, “you and Joe come with us. There’s no question but that you’ll like him at once.”

The youths were more than willing, and, led by their fathers, they walked over to a section of the town that was inhabited only by Europeans and Americans.

At a rather attractive-looking house they stopped, and Mr. Lewis knocked on the door.

The door was opened by a large, swarthy man of anywhere between fifty and sixty. One glance at Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton was enough.

“By Jupiter!” he cried, overjoyed at sight of the naturalists. “Come in, you old rascals.”

Mr. Holton smiled and gave his friend an affectionate pat on the back.

“But we’ve brought our sons with us this time,” he said, indicating Bob and Joe. “George, meet Joe Lewis and Bob Holton. Boys, this is Mr. Seabury.”

There was a shaking of hands and general greeting, and in the end the chums felt perfectly at home.

“Husky fellows,” observed Mr. Seabury. “Look like they could take care of themselves, all right.”

“They certainly can,” affirmed Mr. Lewis, and then outlined some of the boys’ experiences in Brazil, the Sahara, and the Andes Mountains.

Their host listened intently. By the time Mr. Lewis had finished he looked upon the boys with even more respect.

But soon his brow wrinkled.

“Africa is somewhat more dangerous than any of the places they have been,” he said slowly. “There are evidences of that everywhere. In fact, there is evidence of it right here in this house.”

“Referring to yourself, perhaps,” put in Mr. Lewis grimly.

“Just that,” Mr. Seabury returned. “Being charged by a rhino is anything but pleasant. Fortunately, I escaped, but the terrible beast put its mark on me for life.”

There were grim looks on the faces of everyone. Especially were Bob and Joe touched, for they realized for the first time that Africa was a land of tragedy.

“Is there nothing that can be done? Will you always be lame?” inquired Mr. Holton.

Mr. Seabury looked even more grave.

“Medical science cannot help me,” he said at last. “I’m afraid my hunting days are over.” For several moments he retained the same expression. Then suddenly his face lightened, as though he had resolved to forget the matter. “Just what fauna are you after this time?” he asked the naturalists. “But first, before anything more is said, I have something that I want to put before you.”

“What is it, a surprise?” smiled Mr. Lewis.

“Well – you might call it that,” was the response. “Here’s the whole thing: Over six months ago my brother Thomas went into the Congo region to study the primitive tribes there. He was to come back in three months. As yet he hasn’t returned. I fear something has happened to him.”

“That’s too bad,” said Mr. Lewis. “We’ll make it a point to search for him. Just where did he intend to go?”

“It is a very remote region,” Mr. Seabury told them. “Has been called the Forest of Mystery.”

“The Forest of Mystery!” repeated Mr. Holton. “I’ve heard of it. In the central Congo country, isn’t it?”

George Seabury nodded.

“It is said to be full of unexplainable phenomena,” he said. “Has been frequented by only a very few whites.”

Mr. Lewis brought his fist down on the arm of the chair.

“That’s the region we’ll explore,” he said, while Bob’s father nodded. “Have you any idea how to get there?”

“No,” their host responded. “But I know of two natives who have. They live in Mbarara. You men left from there on your last safari in this part of Africa.”

“Yes,” came from Mr. Holton. “But who are these two natives?”

“One is named Noko and the other is Kaika – ”

“Kaika!” interrupted Joe’s father. “Why, he was our head bearer on our last safari.”

“That so?” asked Mr. Seabury, somewhat surprised. “Well, he and Noko have been to the Forest of Mystery and know how to get there.”

“Fine.” Mr. Holton smiled happily. “That’s the very place we’ll set out for. And we’ll certainly keep on the lookout for your brother.”

“You don’t know how much it will mean to me if Thomas is found,” said Mr. Seabury. “Of course, I am in no condition to go in search of him, and it would be next to impossible to engage some stranger to do it. So if you will keep on the watch for him, it will certainly ease matters.”

“We’ll be more than glad to do it,” Mr. Lewis told him. “It will be strange if we don’t run across some trace of him.”

For the next hour they talked on indifferent matters. Then, with a parting word, the explorers left Mr. Seabury’s house and went to the hotel.

“Now what?” asked Joe.

The answer was without hesitation.

“We’ll start into the unknown as soon as we possibly can,” said Mr. Holton. “That is, of course, if we can get a train. It may be that we will have to wait several days before one leaves.”

“Boy!” cried Joe, deeply touched. “Into the heart of Africa! I can hardly wait.”

CHAPTER XIV

Disaster Ahead

“WHAT did you find out, Dad?” inquired Bob late that afternoon. Mr. Holton had just returned from the railroad station of the Uganda Railway.

His father smiled happily.

“There is a train leaving tomorrow morning,” he said. “From all accounts we’ll be the only passengers on it.”

“I don’t mind that,” came from Joe. “But, say, Mr. Holton, what does the train look like?”

“You’ll be surprised,” smiled Mr. Lewis.

“Perhaps you’ll tell us just where it will take us,” said Bob.

“All the way to Lake Victoria,” his father returned. “We’ll spend a day or so looking around there. Then we’ll organize a safari and plunge into the jungle.”

There was a little time left before darkness would close over them. Bob and Joe used it to further explore Mombasa and see its inhabitants.

They found that the city was situated on an island several thousand acres in extent. There was a channel that divided it from the mainland, spanned by a causeway. In the old section of the city the chums found many things of interest in the way of odd native huts, curious carvings, and the native market. The new section contained a number of attractive homes in which lived Europeans and Americans.

“And there seem to be representatives of all races here,” remarked Bob, when they returned to the hotel. “Whites, blacks, browns – all colors.”

“You’re in for a surprise tonight,” said Mr. Lewis, as the youths retired.

“What is it?” asked Joe.

“Wait and see,” smiled his father.

The “surprise” did not make itself known the first part of the night. In fact, Bob and Joe forgot all about what Mr. Lewis had said so soundly did they sleep.

But about two in the morning they were awakened by a hideous noise which was unlike anything the youths had ever heard before. That it was the call of some wild animal they did not doubt, but just what creature could cry out in such tones they had not the slightest idea.

The noise was repeated again and again, always nearer. Finally Bob jumped out of bed and bounded to the window.

“Of all things!” he cried, gazing out intently. “Joe, come here – quick!”

Joe needed no urging. Like a flash he had joined his comrade.

“Why – it’s a hyena!” he gasped. “And there’s another – and another. Gosh! They’re right out in the middle of the street.”

A brilliant moon made the animals easily visible. They were unusually large specimens, that from all appearances could tear a man limb from limb.

“I guess they’re too cowardly to attack even a very small animal,” remarked Bob. “But they sure look mean, don’t they?”

“This must be the surprise Dad was talking about,” said Joe, never taking his eyes from the scene. “And it really is a surprise, too. Who’d expect to see wild animals out in the main street of a town, even in Africa?”

The chums could hardly tear themselves away from the window. The whining, screaming hyenas were something that they had never seen except behind bars, and they naturally looked out with great interest.

“Come on, Joe.” Bob at last went back to bed. “We want to get a little more sleep before morning. We’ll have a lot to do tomorrow.”