“Africa! Africa!” was the terrible word that echoed and re-echoed in the mind of Dick Sands. As he pondered over the events of the preceding weeks he could now understand why, notwithstanding the rapid progress of the ship, the land seemed ever to be receding, and why the voyage had been prolonged to twice its anticipated length. It remained, however, a mystery inexplicable as before, how and when they had rounded Cape Horn and passed into another ocean. Suddenly the idea flashed upon him that the compass must have been tampered with; and he remembered the fall of the first compass; he recalled the night when he had been roused by Tom’s cry of alarm that Negoro had fallen against the binnacle. As he recollected these circumstances he became more and more convinced that it was Negoro who was the mainspring of all the mischief; that it was he who had contrived the loss of the “Pilgrim,” and compromised the safety of all on board.

What had been the career, what could be the motives of a man who was capable of such vile machinations?

But shrouded in mystery as were the events of the past, the present offered a prospect equally obscure.

Beyond the fact that he was in Africa and a hundred miles from the coast, Dick knew absolutely nothing. He could only conjecture that he was in the fatal province of Angola, and assured as he was that Harris had acted the traitor, he was led to the conclusion that he and Negoro had been playing into each other’s hands. The result of the collision, he feared, might be very disastrous to the survivors of the “Pilgrim.” Yet, in what manner would the odious stratagem be accomplished? Dick could well understand that the negroes would be sold for slaves; he could only too easily imagine that upon himself Negoro would wreak the vengeance he had so obviously been contemplating; but for Mrs. Weldon and the other helpless members of the party what fate could be in store?

The situation was terrible, but yet Dick did not flinch; he had been appointed captain, and captain he would remain; Mrs. Weldon and her little son had been committed to his charge, and he was resolved to carry out his trust faithfully to the end.

For several hours he remained wrapped in thought, pondering over the present and the future, weighing the evil chances against the good, only to be convinced that the evil much preponderated. At length he rose, firm, resolute, calm. The first glimmer of dawn was breaking upon the forest. All the rest of the party, except Tom, were fast asleep. Dick Sands crept softly up to the old negro, and whispered:—

“Tom, you know now where we are!”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Dick, only too well I know it. We are in Africa!”

The old man sighed mournfully.

“Tom,” said Dick, in the same low voice, “you must keep this a secret; you must not say a word to let Mrs. Weldon or any of the others know “

The old man murmured his assent, and Dick continued:—

“It will be quite enough for them to learn that we have been betrayed by Harris, and that we must consequently practise extra care and watchfulness; they will merely think we are taking precautions against being surprised by nomad Indians. I trust to your good sense, Tom, to assist me in this.”

“You may depend upon me, Mr. Dick; and I can promise you that we will all do our best to prove our courage, and to show our devotion to your service.”

[Illustration: “You must keep this a secret”]

Thus assured of Tom’s co-operation, Dick proceeded to deliberate upon his future line of action. He had every reason to believe that the treacherous American, startled by the traces of the slaves and the unexpected roaring of the lion, had taken flight before he had conducted his victims to the spot where they were to be attacked, and that consequently some hours might elapse before he would be joined by Negoro, who (to judge from Dingo’s strange behaviour) had undoubtedly for the last few days been somewhere on their track.

Here was a delay that might be turned to good account, and no time was to be lost in taking advantage of it to commence their return journey to the coast. If, as Dick had every reason to suppose, he was in Angola, he hoped to find, either north or south, some Portuguese settlement whence he could obtain the means of transporting his party to their several homes.

But how was this return journey to be accomplished? It would be difficult, not to say imprudent, to retrace their footsteps through the forest; it would merely bring them to their starting-point, and would, moreover, afford an easy track for Negoro or his accomplices to follow. The safest and most secret means of reaching the coast would assuredly be by descending the course of some river. This would have to be effected by constructing a strong raft, from which the little party, well armed, might defend themselves alike from attacks either of the natives or of wild beasts, and which would likewise afford a comfortable means of transport for Mrs. Weldon and her little boy, who were now deprived of the use of Harris’s horse. The negroes, it is true, would be only too pleased to carry the lady on a litter of branches, but this would be to occupy the services of two out of five, and under the circumstances it was manifestly advisable that all hands should be free to act on the defensive. Another great inducement towards the plan was that Dick Sands felt himself much more at home in travelling by water than by land, and was longing to be once again upon what to him was, as it were, his native element. He little dreamt that he was devising for himself the very plan that Harris, in his speculations, had laid down for him!

The most urgent matter was now to find such a stream as would suit their purpose. Dick had several reasons for feeling sure that one existed in the neighbourhood. He knew that the little river, which fell into the Atlantic near the spot where the “Pilgrim” stranded, could not extend very far either to the north or east, because the horizon was bounded in both directions by the chain of mountains which he had taken for the Cordilleras. If the stream did not rise in those hills it must incline to the south, so that in either case Dick was convinced he could not be long in discovering it or one of its affluents. Another sign, which he recognized as hopeful, was that during the last few miles of the march the soil had become moist and level, whilst here and there the appearance of tiny rivulets indicated that an aqueous network existed in the subsoil. On the previous day, too, the caravan had skirted a rushing torrent, of which the waters were tinged with oxide of iron from its sloping banks.

Dick’s scheme was to make his way back as far as this stream, which though not navigable itself would in all probability empty itself into some affluent of greater importance. The idea, which he imparted to Tom, met with the old negro’s entire approval.

As the day dawned the sleepers, one by one, awoke. Mrs. Weldon laid little Jack in Nan’s arms. The child was still dozing; the fever had abated, but he looked painfully white and exhausted after the attack.

“Dick,” said Mrs. Weldon, after looking round her, “where is Mr. Harris? I cannot see him.”

“Harris has left us,” answered Dick very quietly.

“Do you mean that he has gone on ahead?”

“No, madam, I mean that he has left us, and gone away entirely: he is in league with Negoro.”

“In league with Negoro!” cried Mrs. Weldon, “Ah, I have had a fancy lately that there has been something wrong: but why? what can be their motive?”

“Indeed I am unable to tell you,” replied Dick; “I only

[Illustration: “Harris has left us”

know that we have no alternative but to return to the coast immediately if we would escape the two rascals.”

“I only wish I could catch them,” said Hercules, who had overheard the conversation; “I would soon knock their heads together;” and he shook his two fists in giving emphasis to his words.

“But what will become of my boy?” cried Mrs. Weldon, in tones of despondency; “I have been so sanguine in procuring him the comforts of San Felice.”

“Master Jack will be all right enough, madam, when we get into a more healthy situation near the coast,” said Tom.

“But is there no farm anywhere near? no village? no shelter?” she pleaded.

“None whatever, madam; I can only repeat that it is absolutely necessary that we make the best of our way back to the sea-shore.”

“Are you quite sure, Dick, that Mr. Harris has deceived us?”

Dirk felt that he should be glad to avoid any discussion on the subject, but with a warning glance at Tom, he proceeded to say that on the previous night he and Tom had discovered the American’s treachery, and that if he had not instantly taken to his horse and fled he would have answered for his guilt with his life. Without, however, dwelling for a moment more than he could avoid upon the past, he hurried on to detail the means by which he now proposed to reach the sea, concluding by the assertion that he hoped a very few miles’ march would bring them to a stream on which they might be able to embark.

Mrs. Weldon, thoroughly ignoring her own weakness, professed her readiness not only to walk, but to carry Jack too. Bat and Austin at once volunteered to carry her in a litter; of this the lady would not hear, and bravely repeated her intention of travelling on foot, announcing her willingness to start without further delay. Dick Sands was only too glad to assent to her wish.

“Let me take Master Jack,” said Hercules; “I shall be out of my element if I have nothing to carry.”

The giant, without waiting for a reply, took the child from Nan’s arms so gently that he did not even rouse him from his slumber.

The weapons were next carefully examined, and the provisions, having been repacked into one parcel, were consigned to the charge of Actæon, who undertook to carry them on his back.

Cousin Benedict, whose wiry limbs seemed capable of bearing any amount of fatigue, was quite ready to start. It was doubtful whether he had noticed Harris’s disappearance; he was suffering from a loss which to him was of far greater importance. He had mislaid his spectacles and magnifying-glass. It had happened that Bat had picked them up in the long grass, close to the spot where the amateur naturalist had been lying, but acting on a hint from Dick Sands, he said nothing about them; in this way the entomologist, who, without his glasses could scarcely see a yard beyond his face, might be expected to be kept without trouble in the limits of the ranks, and having been placed between Actæon and Austin with strict injunctions not to leave their side, he followed them as submissively as a blind man in leading-strings.

The start was made. But scarcely had the little troop advanced fifty yards upon their way, when Tom suddenly cried out,—

“Where’s Dingo?”

With all the force of his tremendous lungs, Hercules gave a series of reverberating shouts:—

“Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!”

Not a bark could be distinguished in reply

“Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!” again echoed in the air.

But all was silence.

Dick was intensely annoyed at the non-appearance of the dog; his presence would have been an additional safeguard in the event of any sudden surprise.

“Perhaps he has followed Harris,” suggested Tom.

“Far more likely he is on the track of Negoro,” rejoined Dick.

“Then Negoro, to a dead certainty,” said Hercules, “will put a bullet into his head.”

“It is to be hoped,” replied Bat, “that Dingo will strangle him first.”

Dick Sands, disguising his vexation, said,

“At any rate, we have no time to wait for the animal now: if he is alive, he will not fail to find us out. Move on, my lads! move on!”

The weather was very hot; ever since daybreak heavy clouds had been gathering upon the horizon, and it seemed hardly likely that the day would pass without a storm. Fortunately the woods were sufficiently light to ensure a certain amount of freshness to the surface of the soil. Here and there were large patches of tall, rank grass enclosed by clumps of forest trees. In some places, fossilized trunks, lying on the ground, betokened the existence of one of the coal districts that are common upon the continent of Africa. Along the glades the carpet of verdure was relieved by crimson stems and a variety of flowers; ginger-blossoms, blue and yellow, pale lobelias, and red orchids fertilized by the numerous insects that incessantly hovered about them. The trees did not grow in impenetrable masses of one species, but exhibited themselves in infinite variety. There was also a species of palm producing an oil locally much valued; there were cotton-plants growing in bushes eight or ten feet high, the cotton attached in long shreds to the ligneous stalks; and there were copals from which, pierced by the proboscis of certain insects, exudes an odorous resin that flows on to the ground and is collected by the natives. Then there were citrons and wild pomegranates and a score of other arborescent plants, all testifying to the fertility of this plateau of Central Africa. In many places, too, the air was fragrant with the odour of vanilla, though it was not possible to discover the shrub from which the perfume emanated.

In spite of it being the dry season, so that the soil had only been moistened by occasional storms, all trees and plants were flourishing in great luxuriance. It was the time of year for fever, but, according to Dr. Livingstone’s observation, the disorder may generally be cured by quitting the locality where it has been contracted. Dick expressed his hope that, in little Jack’s case, the words of the great traveller would be verified, and in encouragement of this sanguine view, pointed out to Mrs. Weldon that although it was past the time for the periodical return of the fever, the child was still slumbering quietly in Hercules’ arms

The march was continued with as much rapidity as was consistent with caution. Occasionally, where the bushes and brushwood had been broken down by the recent passage of men or beasts, progress was comparatively easy; but much more frequently, greatly to Dick’s annoyance, obstacles of various sorts impeded their advance. Climbing plants grew in such inextricable confusion that they could only be compared to a ship’s rigging involved in hopeless entanglement; there were creepers resembling curved scimitars, thickly covered with sharp thorns; there were likewise strange growths, like vegetable serpents, fifty or sixty feet long, which seemed to have a cruel faculty for torturing every passenger with their prickly spines. Axe in hand, the negroes had repeatedly to cut their road through these bewildering obstructions that clothed the trees from their summit to their base.

Animal life was no less remarkable in its way than the vegetation. Birds in great variety flitted about in the ample foliage, secure from any stray shot from the little band, whose chief object it was to preserve its incognito. Guinea-fowls were seen in considerable numbers, francolins in several varieties, and a few specimens of the bird to which the Americans, in imitation of their note, have given the name of “whip-poor-will.” If Dick had not had too much evidence in other ways to the contrary, he might almost have imagined himself in a province of the New World.

Hitherto they had been unmolested by any dangerous wild beasts. During the present stage of their march a herd of giraffes, startled by their unexpected approach, rushed fleetly past; this time, however, without being represented as ostriches. Occasionally a dense cloud of dust on the edge of the prairie, accompanied by a sound like the roll

[Illustration: The march was continued with as much rapidity as was consistent with caution.]

of heavily-laden chariots, betokened the flight of a herd of buffaloes; but with these exceptions no animal of any magnitude appeared in view.

For about two miles Dick followed the course of the rivulet, in the hope that it would emerge into a more important stream, which would convey them without much difficulty or danger direct to the sea.

Towards noon about three miles had been accomplished, and a halt was made for rest. Neither Negoro nor Harris had been seen, nor had Dingo reappeared. The encampment for the midday refreshment was made under the shelter of a clump of bamboos, which effectually concealed them all. Few words were spoken during the meal. Mrs. Weldon could eat nothing; she had again taken her little boy into her arms, and seemed wholly absorbed in watching him. Again and again Dick begged her to take some nourishment, urging upon her the necessity of keeping up her strength.

“We shall not be long in finding a good current to carry us to the coast,” said the lad brightly.

Mrs. Weldon raised her eyes to his animated features. With so sanguine and resolute a leader, with such devoted servants as the five negroes in attendance, she felt that she ought not utterly to despair. Was she not, after all, on friendly soil? what great harm could Harris perpetrate against her or her belongings? She would hope still, hope for the best.

Rejoiced as he was to see something of its former brightness return to her countenance, Dick nevertheless had scarcely courage steadily to return her searching gaze. Had she known the whole truth, he knew that her heart must fail her utterly. AugC2vzBzCphtUz8y8uYoIVDGbsGqp+CoFHRVEu3i+NPISD964NG3/Ab9DXGRvzC