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

A far-away look came into the eyes of the honest-hearted mate, which caused his companions to change the subject.

In a few minutes they were ready to go to the president of the African Utopia, and with Poppet at their head, they set out.

As the city was very small, as was before stated, it did not take them long to reach the president's office, which was situated in the most pretentious building in the city.

Without any preliminaries whatever, our friends were ushered in.

They beheld a pleasant-faced man of middle age seated in a huge armchair, and when he arose to greet them they saw he was minus a leg.

Poppet introduced them as the six visiting strangers, but when the president had shaken them by the hand, he requested them to write their names in the book of new arrivals, so he might know their names.

Each one complied with the reasonable request, and then the man looked over the names.

When he came to our hero's signature he started as though he had received an electric shock.

"Which one of you is Van Vincent?" he asked, in a strange, unnatural voice.

"I am," replied Van, stepping forward.

The president gazed at the boy for fully five minutes before he again spoke, and it was plain to be seen that he was undergoing a great deal of excitement.

"I would speak to you alone," he at length said. "Your friends will please excuse us for a short time."

"While you are engaged I will show our friends through the city building," spoke up Poppet.

"Very well, if all are satisfied."

The next minute Van Vincent and the president of the strange city were alone in the room.

"So your name is Van Vincent," said the crippled man, gazing at our hero in a curious manner.

"It is," was the reply.

"Where were you born?"

Van quickly told him.

"Your mother is dead, is she not?"

"Yes," replied the boy, gazing at him in surprise. "My father is, too. He died somewhere in Africa, I believe."

"No, he did not!"

"What!" exclaimed Van. "Did you know him?"

"I did, and do now."

"Where is he, then? Won't you take me to him?"

"He stands before you, my boy. I am your father!"

Had a bombshell exploded, Van could not have been more astounded.

Was it possible that he had found his father in the heart of the Dark Continent?

It seemed scarcely probable, and yet, as he gazed at the man before him, he felt that it was certainly true.

With a coolness that was remarkable under the circumstances, the president drew a time-worn pocketbook from his pocket.

Opening it, he drew forth three small photographs.

"There," said he, handing them to Van, "is the likeness of myself, and also those of my family, when I had been two years married."

As Van gazed at the pictures a mist came before his eyes, and he was forced to catch the back of a chair for support.

The photos were those of a young man and woman, and an infant of probably a year old.

But this was not what caused Van to act so strangely. He carried duplicates of those very pictures in his pockets.

The man and woman were his father and mother, and the infant was himself.

That settled the whole business.

Father and son were united after years of separation.

"But, father," said Van, after both had somewhat recovered from their excitement, "how was it that you never came home?"

"It was impossible for me to make the attempt, my boy. Through the treachery of one of my own party, I lost my left leg just before I reached the gate of this wonderful city.

"I was picked up by the Utopians, and nursed back to health and strength, and then, knowing the terrible dangers I had passed through in order to reach this place, I agreed to live with them always, since it would be naught but suicide for me to start for the coast alone, crippled as I was.

"Your mother was dead, and you were in the care of my brother, whom I knew would take proper care of you, and so I tried to content myself here, and have succeeded very well, though many is the time I have thought of home and found the hot tears streaming down my face."

"You say you lost your leg through the treachery of one of your own party," said Van. "Tell me how it happened, won't you?"

"I will do that in a few words, my son. It was this way: The party I was leading on my tour of discovery had dwindled down to eleven men – six whites and five blacks.

"All, save one besides myself, had often declared that they would travel no further, but, under our persuasion, they would again start out.

"I began to notice that the fellow who took sides with me had more control over the men than I did, but thought nothing of it until one day, when I gave orders to resume our march, after eating dinner.

"It was then that the man I trusted deliberately drew his rifle to his shoulder and shot me; and then without a word they started over the back trail, leaving me lying bleeding upon the ground.

"The man who did that was a cousin of yours, Van. His name was John Moreland."

"What!" gasped Van. "Why, the scoundrel is in the city this very moment. He is the prisoner who is confined in the cell."

Then it was the elder Vincent's turn to be surprised.

Van now proceeded to relate all that had happened since his uncle's murder, and his father was deeply interested in the recital of the story.

"Well, my son," said he, after a rather long interval of silence, "John Moreland, or Doc Clancy, as you call him, will surely be executed, and after that happens I shall endeavor to work things so I shall be able to leave this beautiful country and go back with you to the land of our birth. And now you had better return to your friends and tell them that you have found a father. I will arrange things in my house this afternoon, and you and your companions will be my guests as long as you remain in the city."

Van now left his father and started to hunt up Jack Howard and the rest.

He soon learned that they had gone to take a look about the ancient though beautiful city, and taking the direction they had gone, he started to find them.

The boy was so elated and full of joy at the miraculous finding of his father, that he hardly noticed anything as he walked along.

Just as he was passing a fine-looking edifice, he was startled by the shrill scream of a female in distress.

In a moment Van's chivalric nature was aroused, and he turned his eyes in the direction the cry came from.

By the side of the building he beheld a beautiful girl struggling in the arms of a powerful-looking man.

Quick as a flash, Van leaped over the low fence in front of the house and rushed to the spot.

The girl was doing her best to get away from the man, who now held his hand tightly over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.

The next instant our hero's fist shot out and the brute staggered and fell to the ground.

CHAPTER XXI.

DIVERSE MATTERS

The blow Van had given the Utopian was such a heavy one that the fellow was dazed for a few seconds, and staggered about blindly after he had risen to his feet.

The girl had promptly flown to Van for protection, saying in fair English as he did so:

"Save me from that man! He is a villain, and I hate him."

"All right, miss," replied our hero. "I'll guarantee he shan't harm you while I am around."

Meanwhile the man, who was a big, burly fellow, had recovered himself and now stood glaring at Van like an enraged lion.

He drew a long knife from beneath the coatlike garment he wore, and made a move toward the boy.

Crack! It was our hero's revolver that spoke, and the knife dropped to the ground with a ring, leaving the fellow's arm hanging limp at his side.

The report of the revolver could but attract a crowd, and the next minute over a score of people were on the spot, among them being Poppet and Van's companions.

The cowardly villain watched his opportunity to sneak off, his wounded arm dangling at his side.

"Tell these people what has happened," said Van, addressing the girl.

She obeyed him promptly enough, and when she had concluded a cheer went up from the crowd.

"Thank you," said she, turning to her champion and shaking him warmly by the hand. "Call and see me this evening; my papa will be home then. Don't fail!"

The next moment she left the crowd and entered the house.

"By Jove! Van, you are a dandy, and no mistake!" exclaimed Jack Howard. "Here I have been all over this city, and haven't had an opportunity of being of service to an old woman, let alone a pretty girl like that. You are a lucky fellow, anyhow."

"Why," observed Joe, turning his large eyes upon those of the young Englishman, "do you like pretty girls so much?"

"I like all girls, whether pretty or not," replied Jack, "but in all my travels I never met but one girl whom I liked enough to take for a wife; and I was not with her long enough to learn much about her."

"Where was it you met her, may I ask?"

"Oh, it was here in this beastly African country. It was just after we started on our trip – some days before we came across you. She had a very pretty name, too. Masie Langford, I believe it was."

All at once Joe began to act very strange. He reeled about like a drunken man, and would have fallen to the ground had not Jack caught him.

"Why, what's the matter, my boy?" asked he, in surprise.

"Nothing – nothing. I had a faintness come over me, that's all. You know I am subject to fainting."

"That's so, little fellow. Well, never mind, we'll get back to the house and you can lay down. Here, take my arm, I'll help you walk along."

All hands now left the spot and started with Poppet for his house.

On the way Poppet explained to Van that the girl he had championed was the prettiest in the entire city and that she had suitors by the score.

She was the daughter of one of the city officers, and the same girl who had been insulted by Doc Clancy.

The fellow Van had knocked down was also a city officer, and Poppet was afraid there might be trouble on account of what had happened.

"In such a place as this there should never be any trouble," said Van.

"There has been very little heretofore," was the reply, "but ere long a great trouble will overtake the good people of the African Utopia. I have felt it in the air for months past."

"What is the matter? Is there a sort of split between the people?"

"That's just it exactly. Our good president leads what I consider a loyal faction, and the man you knocked down a few minutes ago is the leader of the opposite side."

"You think there will be a fight, then?"

"It is liable to happen at any time."

"Well, let it happen. We will take a hand in it. I guess we have enough cartridges left to kill off a hundred or two."

"I suppose you favor the president," said Poppet.

"I should say so. He is my father."

"What!" gasped the astonished Utopian. "Your father?"

"Yes, sir, he is."

"Come off, Van. What do you mean?" spoke up Jack Howard, who was listening to the conversation.

Van then related the result of his interview with the president.

Of course all hands were more than astonished. Their whole trip had been a regular romance, but Van finding his father topped it off completely.

But they had arrived at the house by this time, and nothing more was said on the subject.

That evening Van was more than particular in making his toilet.

He was going to call upon the pretty girl as he had promised.

He learned that her name was Metha Arundel before he set out.

He intended to make his call but a short one, as he had promised his father to be at the council meeting which was called to determine the manner of death Doc Clancy was to die.

Van had scarcely rapped upon the door of the house where the fair one lived when it was opened.

A servant ushered him into a brilliantly lighted room, where the girl and her father were awaiting him.

Both had learned by this time that Van was the son of the president, and they greeted him accordingly.

The old gentleman could converse very well in English, and when half an hour had been pleasantly spent he arose and took his departure for the council meeting, stating that he was going to make a charge against the man who had insulted his daughter.

Van soon forgot all about the fact that he intended to go to the council meeting.

Metha's company was so charming that it was quite late when he arose to go.

Though the couple had but met that day, both were badly smitten.

Now that Van had chased Doc Clancy to his doom, and found his father in such an unexpected manner, he felt that he could turn a little of his attention to love.

From the little he knew of Metha she just suited him; and vice versa.

It was too late to go to the council meeting when he left the girl, so he went direct to his father's house.

He found his friends all there with very ample accommodations assigned to them.

From them he learned that Doc Clancy was to be hanged the next morning at sunrise.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE EXECUTION AND WHAT FOLLOWED

Our friends were up and on hand before sunrise the next morning.

A vast crowd had already assembled about the spot where the execution of Doc Clancy was to take place.

Van and his companions took up a position in the rear of the crowd.

Though none of them were desirous of seeing the execution, they could not resist the temptation to be present.

It was now generally known throughout the city that Van was the son of the president of the board of officers, and many were the looks that were cast upon the boy by the city's inhabitants.

Just as the sun arose, Doc Clancy was led to the rudely constructed gallows that had been erected solely for his execution.

Before he stepped upon the drop, Van's father came forward and faced him.

When the villain saw the man he had abandoned in the African wilds to die, a look of terror came over his face.

"Wha-a-t!" he gasped. "Are you alive?"

"I guess I am, John Moreland. So you were not satisfied when you thought you had left me to die; you made up your mind to find your way back home, after a number of years of your villainy, and murder my brother! But a Nemesis got upon your track, John Moreland! My son, Van, had pluck enough to chase you clear to this spot, which is entirely unknown to the outside world. Now, you vile hound! you have but a few minutes to live! Have you got anything to say?"

During the recital of the president's words the face of Doc Clancy turned the color of ashes, and when he had finished, the wretch uttered a horror-stricken groan and fell to the ground in a faint.

Van's father then spoke a few words to the executioner, and then walked to the spot where our friends were standing.

"Come," said he. "When I let my handkerchief fall the drop will go down. I have no desire to see the execution."

Together the party walked slowly from the place.

A few yards from the crowd the handkerchief was dropped.

The next instant a dull thud was heard, followed by a howl from the excited crowd.

Van glanced back for an instant, and saw the form of Doc Clancy dangling in the air.

The career of the villain who had been chased to the heart of the Dark Continent was ended.

A sigh of relief escaped the lips of our hero.

"Now, if it is possible for us to get back home again, and take father along with us, I will consider my journey to Central Africa the most important event of my whole life," he thought.

As his father was compelled to use a crutch on account of his missing leg, the walk to their headquarters was a slow one.

On the way Van met Metha Arundel, who invited him to call again that evening.

He promised to do so, and a joyous look came into the beautiful girl's eyes.

As soon as the house of the president was reached our hero's father called him in his private office.

"My son," said he, "there is going to be trouble in this hitherto peaceful city before many hours."

"What do you mean, father?" asked Van in surprise.

"I mean just this: the man you struck yesterday for interfering with that girl – who, by the way, has fallen in love with you – has a vast influence among the people of this place. It was for that reason that the council did not indict him last night. I understand by good authority that he has sworn to kill you and all your friends. Now, I want to ask you what you think is the best thing to do."

"As soon as we see it is getting too hot for us we had better leave," was Van's reply.

"That's it exactly. Since you came here I have had a very strong desire to get back to our own country once more. I have long known a way to go, but could not go alone. You and your friends will just make the party large enough, and I think we had better start this very day."

"Let us wait till to-morrow, father. I have an appointment to-night, you know."

"Do you care anything for the pretty Metha Arundel, Van?"

"Why?"

"Well, if you don't I wouldn't get up any foolish flirtation with her, if I were you. Her father told me this morning that she had resolved to have no other man for a husband but you, and when a girl once says a thing like that in this country you may rest assured that she means it."

"I think I will ask her to go along with us," said Van, after a moment's thought.

Contrary to his expectations, his father seemed pleased.

"I know her father would go," said he, quickly. "Her mother is dead, and they two comprise the entire family."

"Very well," returned our hero. "You might as well speak to her father."

The elder Vincent now produced a roughly drawn chart of the African Utopia.

He showed Van a river which flowed near the eastern wall of the city and thence in a southerly direction until it emptied into Lake Tanganyika.

"This map was drawn by a man who came to this place by that route," said he. "If we once reach that lake we will be all right."

"We ought to have a large flat-bottomed boat," replied our hero, in a thoughtful manner. "We could then take our horses with us."

"We have the boat already," Mr. Vincent hastened to reply. "It is a large one, and is used to transport blocks of stone from the quarry about ten miles above the city."

"That settles it, then," said our hero, in a matter-of-fact way.

The interview now being at an end, Van sought his companions and told them of the plan for leaving the place and the African wilds forever.

All seemed much elated over it save Joe. The boy only shook his head in a wistful manner and said:

"I am glad you are going to leave and hope you will have the best of luck, and finally reach your own country. As for me, I am satisfied that I will never leave Africa."

"What, Joe? Aren't you going with us?" asked Jack Howard, in surprise.

"Oh, yes – that is, I will make the start with you. To tell the truth, I feel as – as though I am not going to live long."

"Nonsense!" cried all hands in a breath.

"I have a presentiment that way, and I know it will come true," persisted the boy.

Joe's words were spoken in such an earnest manner that a grave feeling came over all hands in spite of themselves.

During the day they walked about the city a good deal, and toward evening Joe was as happy as any of them.

Van noticed that a large number of the population had congregated to the western portion of the walled-in place.

Presently he saw the man whom he had knocked down among them, and he began to grow suspicious.

"They are getting ready to start a riot," he thought. "I must see my father and get him to start the first thing in the morning."

Our friends were on their way back to the house of the president when Van caught a glimpse of this man.

The villain – for such he was – cast a look of intense hate at the boy, and then, before his intention could be designed, he sprang forward and flung his knife full at our hero's breast.

Van made a nimble dodge and escaped the blade, but a cry of anguish behind him told him that it had struck some one else.

Turning quickly, he beheld Joe reeling backward with the knife sticking in his breast.

Jack Howard caught the wounded boy in his arms, and then, quick as a flash, Van turned and leveled his rifle at the cowardly murderer.

Crack! As the report rang out, the man threw up his arms and fell dead to the ground.

CHAPTER XXIII.

UTOPIA IS LEFT BEHIND

As soon as Van saw that his shot had not been wasted he hurried to the side of Joe, who was now lying on the ground, with his head resting on Jack Howard's arm.

The wounded boy was breathing heavily, and a single glance told our hero that he had but a few minutes to live.

"Loosen his shirt collar and give him some air," said Dr. Pestle. "The knife has touched a vital spot, and it is only a question of a very few minutes before the little fellow will die."

Jack at once unbuttoned Joe's shirt.

As he did so he turned as pale as death and a strange cry came from his lips.

"What is the matter?" exclaimed the doctor, springing to his side.

"Joe is a girl!" came from Jack's pallid lips.

His startling words seemed to bring the wounded one to consciousness, for at that moment the large eyes opened.

"Yes, I am a girl," came from the feeble lips, which were fast turning blue. "Mr. Howard, promise me that you will not hate me for following you in this guise when you think of me in after life! I followed you because I was left alone in the world, and because I – I – I loved you!"

"Great God!" exclaimed Jack. "Surely you are not Masie Langford, the girl we met almost at the commencement of our trip?"

"I am, Mr. Howard. I – I – "

Jack Howard's companions were forced to turn their heads.

The emotion the young Englishman displayed was something awful.

He had frequently spoken of Masie Langford as the only girl he had ever met who would suit him for a wife, and now she lay, dying in his arms.

What Howard whispered to the dying girl will never be known, but whatever it was it caused her face to light up with a heavenly smile, then the lips of the two met, and Masie Langford, alias Joe, fell back dead.

The discharge of Van's rifle had caused a large crowd to gather, and when the city officer's friends saw him lying dead upon the ground murmurs of rage went up from their lips.

But as no assault was made upon them, our friends did not notice them much.

Poppet, who had been with the party since they started out to examine the city, and who was an eye-witness of all that had taken place in the past few minutes, dispatched a couple of men for a litter.

The necessary article was procured in a very few minutes, and the body of the slain girl being placed on it, the party set out for the president's house.

But few words were exchanged on the way, and when they reached the house, a gloom seemed to have settled upon all hands.

As soon as Van's father learned of what had taken place, he was for leaving the city at once.

"There is yet an hour before darkness," said he, "and I will have it announced that the friends of the murdered girl – or rather boy, as they think – desire the body to be buried outside the wall. Then those who are going to leave can take to the boat and leave the city behind them forever."

"That is true," returned Van; "but I have not seen Metha Arundel yet."

"I have, if you have not. Her father says they are ready to go at ten minutes' notice."

"Very well, then. I will go after them at once."

The distance to the house of the Arundels was not great, and Van soon reached it, finding what his father had said to be true.

Arundel was an Englishman, and as he was a sworn friend of Vincent's, he was ready to stick to him in anything he undertook.

His daughter had really fallen in love with Van, and, of course, she was only too glad to go.

The father and daughter mounted their horses, taking what few things they could carry, and then Van led them to the door of his father's house, where the funeral procession had already formed.

When the elder Vincent saw that all were on hand he gave the order to start.

About fifty of the Utopians accompanied them to witness the burial.