In the Depths of the Dark Continent: or, The Vengeance of Van Vincent

By the light it made they saw they were in a broad hallway, which looked as though it had not been used for a generation or more.

A broad staircase led upward from the hall, and as soon as they saw this they decided to leave their horses where they were, and use the next story of the building for themselves.

This move was no sooner decided upon than our hero was leading the way upstairs.

His companions followed slowly behind him.

When they reached the landing Jack struck a match.

The floor was in one vast room, which looked so ancient and strange that a feeling of awe came over them.

"I say, Van, what do you think of this?" remarked Jack, turning around.

But there was no answer to his question.

Much mystified Jack glanced at his companions.

They were all there but Van.

"Van – Van!" he shouted. "Where are you?"

But there was no reply. Our hero had vanished as mysteriously as though he had been swallowed by an unseen goblin.

CHAPTER XVII.

WHAT BEFELL DOC CLANCY

It will now be the proper thing for us to follow Doc Clancy and see how the villain fared after his escape from our friends.

The bullet from the rifle of Lank Edwards had not touched him, but, seeing his companion fall, he concluded to do likewise, for fear he might be fired upon again.

When he sprang upon his horse again and dashed away, he did not turn his head to see whether his friend had been killed or not, but galloped away from the spot with all the speed his horse could command.

What the dead man had told our friends about the herd of horses with his dying breath was true.

The two scoundrels had followed the roadway to the massive iron gate, and here discovered the queerly mounted animals waiting to get inside the wall.

They thought it best to leave, and when the herd followed them, Doc Clancy was in high glee.

He thought he would surely best Van and his party now. But the reader knows how well he succeeded.

When the fleeing scoundrel had placed a quarter of a mile between himself and our friends, he turned in the saddle and saw them digging a hole in the ground.

"The poor devil must be dead," he muttered. "Well, I'll have to go it alone now. I suppose I had better make direct for that gate and try and get inside it and make friends with the people who live there. If I can do that, I may be able to set them against that young upstart, Van Vincent, and the rest of his gang. Well, I'll try it, anyhow. Here goes."

Clancy did not halt until he reached the gate, and he was just wondering how he was going to get through, when it opened.

Without any hesitation, the villain rode through, the herd of horses following him.

It was now dark, but he determined to let the horses take him to where they belonged. He had not proceeded very far before he noticed a number of ruined stone buildings, but as the animals did not appear to want to stop at any of these, he kept on.

When he had covered perhaps three miles over the hard, level road, he beheld a city before him – such as he had never beheld before.

We say a city, for though it did not contain over two hundred buildings, yet it was a city as far as its general appearance went. All its buildings were tall and beautiful, and built of stone, while the streets were broad and well paved.

The moment Doc Clancy entered it with the herd of horses at his back, a number of men rushed out to meet him and proceeded to catch the horses.

As the moon was now covered with heavy clouds for the first time that night, Clancy was not observed at all, and his horse was led away with those who had the dummies on their backs.

They were all placed in a large, comfortable stable, and then the men proceeded to remove the figures from their backs.

Doc Clancy now began to grow very uneasy.

He began to think of what would happen when they discovered that one of the animals had a real man on its back.

But the villain was desperate, and determined not be killed or captured.

Watching his opportunity, he slid from his horse's back, and then quickly removed the rude bridle from its head.

"Now," thought he, "I'll lay low till these fellows go out. Then I'll sneak outside myself and see what sort of a place this is."

This was a successful move, the men not noticing the deception at all.

Fifteen minutes later they left the stable. It was now raining, but Doc Clancy determined to go out, just the same.

Pushing his way between the horses, who were now munching their evening meal in a contented manner, he at length reached the door.

"This is a pretty tough night to go out, when you have nice, dry quarters like this to stay in; but I must see what sort of a place I am in, and work a way to make myself welcome," muttered Clancy, as he buttoned his coat about his neck.

The next moment he stepped outside in the storm.

The lights from houses on all sides of him could be seen, and he concluded to approach one of them and look in the window.

Selecting the nearest house for his purpose, he began crawling stealthily toward it.

In less than two minutes he was at the window.

A muffled cry of astonishment escaped the villain's lips as he peered in.

He was gazing into an oblong room, furnished something after the Oriental fashion.

The walls and ceiling seemed to be a glittering mass of gold and silver, and the light from a score of candles, thrust in candlesticks of the same metal, made the scene a dazzling one, to say the least.

Reclining on a divan was a woman, or, rather, a girl, for she could not have been over sixteen years of age.

She, too, looked like one of the dazzling beauties of the Orient, and was robed like the women of Egypt.

As Doc Clancy gazed at the ravishingly beautiful creature, his eyes sparkled.

"By Jove!" he muttered; "if I could only make friends with the people of this place, and then marry that girl, I think I should be as happy as a king. If I only dared, I would open the window. My! what a beautiful creature! I'll do it, anyhow."

Seizing the sash, he thrust it aside, and then sprang into the room with a single bound.

Foolish man! That was the very worst thing he could have done, and if he had only stopped to think he would never have done it.

As Clancy landed upon the floor the girl sprang from the divan and uttered a wild scream of terror.

"Keep still, my girl; I'm not going to harm you," Clancy hastened to exclaim.

But that one scream did the business.

The next instant a curtain was thrown aside and half a dozen men rushed in.

Before Doc Clancy could make a move, he was seized and thrown upon his back on the floor.

A silken cord was wound tightly about his arms and legs, and then in a twinkling of an eye he was whisked from the room.

His captors did not stop until they had descended a flight of stone steps, and Doc Clancy, who was now thoroughly frightened, felt a draught of chilly air blowing upon him.

Along a damp passage he was conducted, the men carrying lighted candles to show them their way.

Suddenly they came to a halt in a large, cellar-like chamber, and deposited their prisoner on the ground.

"I say," pleaded Clancy, "let me go, won't you? I'll get out of your country right away, if you will."

"Silence! you dog of an Englishman," exclaimed one of the men. "You must die! You sealed your death warrant when you dared to enter the private apartment of one of our chiefs' daughters."

"Oh, I know you will save me," whined the wretch. "You can speak my language, and surely you will not see me killed just because I came to your city a stranger and made a mistake."

"It matters not whether I speak your language or not. To-morrow you must be thrown in the lion's den; you must beg him to spare you, not us."

As if to doubly seal Doc Clancy's death sentence, a terrible roar rang out close at hand.

The villain had journeyed far enough through the African wilds to know what caused it.

It was the roar of a hungry lion.

"That is the fellow you will have to meet in the morning," said the man who had before addressed him. "We will place you in this pit next to him. Sleep well!"

Without any further ceremony, a door was opened and Doc Clancy, still bound hand and foot, was tumbled into a pit about twenty feet square.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE AFRICAN UTOPIA

But what became of Van Vincent? the reader might ask.

By the time his companions started to ascend the stairs, he had reached the landing above.

Regardless of the fact that it was pitch dark, and that he was in a strange place, he started to walk straight for the head of the staircase.

He did not take over ten steps before he brought up against a partition with a jar, which immediately gave way.

Van heard the noise made by his friends ascending the stairs, and then he went shooting downward with the velocity of a cannon ball.

He had a recollection of rolling over and over in some damp, foul-smelling place, and then he lost consciousness.

When he came to again he found himself in an elegantly furnished apartment with a man bending over him.

"Where am I?" gasped the boy, gazing wildly about him.

"You are all right now," was the reply. "You had quite a fall, but I have examined you and find no bones broken. Here, drink this, and you will feel first rate."

Van placed his lips to the shining metal mug that was proffered him, and drank its contents almost at a single gulp.

It tasted like wine, only more delicious than any he had ever drank before.

As the strange man said it would, it made him feel better, and he arose to a sitting posture.

Van glanced long and earnestly at the man before he uttered a word.

He saw that he was a Caucasian, attired in Oriental costume, and that was all there was of it.

"Who are you?" asked the boy; "and what place am I in?"

"You are in the African Utopia, which is situated in the wildest part of the Dark Continent," was the reply. "Now, let me ask you a question: How did you get here?"

"I traveled from the mouth of the Congo River," returned Van.

"What purpose had you in risking your life to make such a dangerous journey?"

"I came here partly because I am following a man who murdered my uncle, and whom I have sworn to take back to the United States, if he is not killed before I am able to do it."

"You said 'partly'; you must have another reason for coming here, then?"

"Yes; I fell in with some Englishmen, who were starting on an exploring trip, and joined their party."

"Where are they now?" asked the man.

"In the house where you found me – or, at least, they were the last I saw of them."

"You say in the house where I found you. How do you know but that you are in the same house yet?"

"I might be, but I don't believe it. That building was an old, tumble-down affair, and, judging from the appearance of this room, this is not."

"You are right, boy. You are two miles from the place where you had the fall. I had been out setting a trap to catch a lion, and on my way back stopped in the cellar of the old building. Almost the first thing I stumbled upon was your body, and, finding that you were one of my own nationality, apparently, I threw you upon my horse's back and brought you here."

"Well," said Van, after a pause, "I should like to go and look up my friends."

"You remain just where you are. I'll send out a couple of men to hunt up your friends. You lie down and go to sleep, and you will surely see them in the morning."

"I guess I'll do as you say," returned our hero. "To tell the truth I am so sleepy I can scarcely keep my eyes open."

Whether it was the drink that caused it, or whether it was because he was completely tired out, we cannot say, but, anyhow, five minutes later Van Vincent was sleeping soundly upon the soft divan.

The sun was shining brightly when he awoke, which informed him that another day had arrived, and also that the storm had cleared.

He was in the same room he had fallen asleep in, and, rising from the divan, Van went to the window.

As he looked out and saw that he was in a little city, a cry of surprise came from his lips.

"So this is the African Utopia," he mused. "Well, it looks like a place where naught but enjoyment could be found. I never saw such a beautiful spot in my life."

Our hero's meditations were cut rather short, for at that moment a door opened and a number of people entered.

To his great joy, he beheld his friends standing before him.

Yes, they were there in reality – Jack, Lank Edwards, Joe, and the professor and doctor.

Van did not utter a word till he had shook the hand of each.

"Where did you stay all night?" he then asked.

"In this house," replied Jack.

"You did?"

"Sure!" exclaimed Lank Edwards. "After we got tired lookin' for you in ther old building, we went downstairs by ther horses. About half an hour after that along comes two men, who said as how you sent for us. When we got here ther boss of ther house explained things to us, an' said as how you were asleep, so we concluded to wait till morning afore we seed you."

"That's about all there is of it," said Jack, with a laugh. "But come! our host is waiting for us to come to breakfast. A deuced fine place we have struck, I can tell you!"

Van followed his companions from the room, and then all hands entered an elegant dining room, where the man he had met the night before was awaiting them.

A few minutes later they were seated at a table, enjoying a sumptuous repast.

During the meal our friends learned considerable about the little city they were in.

Three hundred years before, a band of Egyptians had discovered it almost the same as it now was, only that it was deserted.

The race who had built it had in some way become extinct, but their handiwork still remained, and glad enough were the little band to take it as their future home.

One hundred years after the band of Egyptians – numbering less than fifty – took possession of the city within the wonderful wall, it had over five hundred inhabitants, and with the growth of its people many improvements were made.

During the last century more than one exploring party – or what was left of the original party – had reached it and found it a veritable haven of rest and contentment.

As yet, no man who had ever reached the city had made the attempt to leave it, and thus it was that its inhabitants numbered over two thousand, nearly all modern languages being spoken by them.

Such a thing as money was not used in African Utopia. All hands worked, and the results of their different labors were freely exchanged, thus making everything of value equal to money.

When a man became too lazy to work for his living, he was thrown to a hungry lion as a warning to any who might chance to follow in his footsteps.

The people governed the beautiful place by electing a set of officers every year, and everything went on like clockwork.

The finest of silks and morocco were produced here, and the architects and builders were equal to any in the world.

Of course, our friends were much astonished when they learned all this, but they were forced to believe it when they looked at their surroundings.

They were at the breakfast table nearly two hours, and when they at length arose their host, who gave his name as Poppet, told them to follow him and they would see something worth looking at.

They were all glad to get outside, and when they did so they could no longer wonder why it was that none who came to the place ever left.

The air was balmy and soft, and as our friends breathed it they felt exhilarated and refreshed.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Dr. Pestle, "I'll bet that such a thing as lung troubles are unknown here. Never in my life before have I breathed such pure air."

After ten minutes' walk their host halted before a pit, which had a strong iron railing around it.

"Look down there!" said he.

CHAPTER XIX.

DOC CLANCY'S CONFESSION

When Van saw that it was Doc Clancy who had been thrown in to the lion, he could scarcely believe his senses.

Like his companions, he was spellbound for a moment.

As the wretched man cowered close to the side of the pit, the lion halted in front of him, as if to gloat over his victim's misery and terror.

"By Jove!" exclaimed our hero. "Doc Clancy shall not die that way. When he leaves this world, he shall die with a rope about his neck."

Quick as a flash he leveled his rifle at the lion and pulled the trigger.

Crack! As the report rang out on the still, morning air, the king of beasts rolled over upon the ground in the throes of death.

The bullet from Vincent's rifle struck the creature just behind the left fore-shoulder, entering the heart.

It all happened so quickly that none of the inhabitants of the wonderful city could make a move to stop the boy from killing the lion; and as soon as they saw what he had done, a hoarse cry of anger went up from their lips.

"You've played ther part of a fool, Van!" exclaimed Lank Edwards, with a look of disgust. "By saving the life of the murderer of your uncle, you have placed yer own in great danger."

"You are right," put in Poppet, who heard the words. "Young fellow, though you are my guest, I cannot be answerable for your safety."

"It matters not," returned Van. "That man murdered my uncle, and I have chased him too far to see him die before I have a written confession from him. And then, again, when he dies I want to see him do so with a rope around his neck."

It was wonderful to note the change that came over the face of Poppet when he heard the boy's words.

Turning to the excited crowd about the pit, he addressed them in the language of the city, telling them exactly what our hero had said.

This seemed to satisfy them, and the next moment the entire crowd were gazing at the plucky American boy with admiring eyes.

"Well," observed Poppet, at length, turning to our friends, "I am the master of all executions that take place, and overseer of prisoners as well. For the present I will have this man locked up, and to-night the city officers will decide upon what is to be done with him. It may be that they will approve of what you say; and if so, the confession you desire will be forced from him, after which he will be executed after the fashion of your country."

"What did he do that caused him to be thrown to the lion?" asked Joe, turning his large, dark eyes upon Poppet.

"He insulted the daughter of one of the best men in Utopia last night, and when a man does that here the penalty is that he shall be thrown into the lion's pit," was the reply.

Our friends were now conducted back to the house of their host, and here it was that they learned two things which had hitherto seemed rather queer to them.

The first was how it was that Doc Clancy had discovered the horses rigged up in such a curious fashion; and this was explained by Poppet as being a ruse practiced by his people to frighten their enemies who dwelt outside the wall. In this case the man who led the mounted dummies had been killed in some manner, and thus it was that Clancy and his associate had discovered the horses, who had returned to the gate in the huge wall.

The other thing which became plain to them was that of the iron gate opening and shutting without apparent cause, and we will explain it in Poppet's own words.

"Whenever the gate is opened it must be done by a person in the center of our little city," said he. "There are wires laid underground to the gate, and when admission is sought the person in charge of them becomes aware of it immediately, as a bell will ring twice in quick succession. A knob is touched and open comes the gate, and when the person or persons are through it shuts."

"It must be done by electricity," remarked our hero, in great surprise.

"That is exactly what it is done by," was the reply. "All the power used in the city is furnished by it."

Our friends were too much astonished to speak after they heard this.

But the city they had struck was indeed a wonderful one, and beyond this we will not say much of it, as we have not the space at our command, and, besides, it would be deviating from our story too much.

Shortly after noon, Poppet asked Van to take a trip with him to see the prisoner.

Of course, our hero was only too glad to avail himself of the opportunity, and the pair at once set out.

The distance to the place where Doc Clancy was confined was not great, and they soon arrived there.

It was the same place where the villain had been taken by those who captured him on his entrance to the house where the girl was.

The cowardly villain was seated upon the floor of the cell he was confined in, the picture of abject misery.

"How are you, Doc Clancy?" said Van, placing his face close to the bars in the heavy, iron door.

A hopeful expression came over Clancy's face, and he at once rose to his feet.

"Have you come to take me out of here?" he demanded, in an eager tone. "Who was it that shot the lion and saved my life?"

"In answer to your last question, I will say that it was I who killed the lion," was our hero's reply.

An expression of amazement came over Doc Clancy's face.

"You saved my life! You! – when I have tried to kill you so many times!"

"Yes, it was I, and I nearly got into serious trouble by doing it. Now, Doc Clancy, I want to ask you to do something for me."

"What is it? I will do anything you ask."

"I want a written confession from you that your murdered my uncle."

For a moment the wretched man made no reply. Then he looked up slowly until his eyes were on a level with those of our hero.

"I will give it to you," he said, at length. "Write as I dictate, and when you have finished I will sign it."

In a moment Van produced his notebook and pencil from his pocket.

The next fifteen minutes was spent in writing the man's words, and then, with a trembling hand, the wretch signed it, Poppet being a witness.

The confession implicated the lawyer who had charge of all the affairs of Van's murdered uncle, and the boy vowed inwardly that he should suffer for the part he had played in the crime if he ever got back to his home.

"There, now!" exclaimed Doc Clancy, when he had signed the paper and handed it to Van, "I suppose you will get me out of here now, and let me go about my business."

"He has nothing to say about a matter of that kind," said Poppet, coldly. "You have a serious charge against you for insulting the daughter of one of our prominent citizens and you must suffer the penalty of your rash act. Also, it is the law of the African Utopia that a man who is proven a murderer – whether the crime was committed here or in any other part of the world – must die. Your confession proves that you are a vile murderer, and therefore, you must die!"

"What!" screamed Doc Clancy, in a frantic voice. "Van, you will not allow this, will you?"

"Come away!" exclaimed Poppet, taking our hero by the arm. "Bandy no more words with the scoundrel."

As they turned away from the cell, Doc Clancy uttered a yell of terror and fell to the floor in a fit.

CHAPTER XX.

OUR HERO FINDS A FATHER

Shortly after Van and Poppet arrived at the latter's house, a messenger came in, stating that the president of the city board would like an audience with the visiting strangers.

"We will get ready and go at once," said Poppet. "The president, who is a cripple, is an American, and no doubt he would be glad to see some of his own countrymen."

"We are not all Americans," spoke up Jack Howard; "three of us are English, you know."

"Four," added Joe. "My parents were born in England."

"Well, two of us are natives of the United States," said Van; "and so we will be very glad to see the president."

"So will we," exclaimed Jack. "I think just as much of America as any other nation on the face of the globe."

"I think enough of her to give all I am worth if I was only back there now," observed Lank Edwards. "I've got a wife an' three children waitin' for me in ther land of ther free, an' I am wery anxious ter git home again, I kin tell you!"