Just at this moment Jack woke up and put his arms round his mother’s neck. His eyes were brighter, and there was manifestly no return of fever.

“You are better, darling!” said Mrs. Weldon, pressing him tenderly to her.

“Yes, mamma, I am better; but I am very thirsty.”

Some cold water was soon procured, which the child drank eagerly, and then began to look about him. His first inquiry was for his old friends, Dick and Hercules, both of whom approached at his summons and greeted him affectionately.

“Where is the horse?” was the next question.

“Gone away, Master Jack; I am your horse now,” said Hercules.

“But you have no bridle for me to hold,” said Jack, looking rather disappointed.

“You may put a bit in my mouth if you like, master Jack,” replied Hercules, extending his jaws, “and then you may pull as hard as you please.”

“O, I shall not pull very hard,” said Jack; “but haven’t we nearly come to Mr. Harris’s farm?”

Mrs. Weldon assured the child that they should soon be where they wanted to be, and Dick, finding that the conversation was approaching dangerous ground, proposed that the journey should be now resumed. Mrs. Weldon assented; the encampment was forthwith broken up and the march continued as before.

[Illustration: It was a scene only too common in Central Africa]

In order not to lose sight of the watercourse, it was necessary to cut a way right through the underwood: progress was consequently very slow; and a little over a mile was all that was accomplished in about three hours. Footpaths had evidently once existed, but they had all become what the natives term “dead,” that is, they had become entirely overgrown with brushwood and brambles. The negroes worked away with a will; Hercules, in particular, who temporarily resigned his charge to Nan, wielded his axe with marvellous effect, all the time giving vent to stentorian groans and grunts, and succeeded in opening the woods before him as if they were being consumed by a devouring fire.

Fortunately this heavy labour was not of very long duration.

After about a mile, an opening of moderate width, converging towards the stream and following its bank, was discovered in the underwood. It was a passage formed by elephants, which apparently by hundreds must be in the habit of traversing this part of the forest. The spongy soil, soaked by the downpour of the rainy season, was everywhere indented with the enormous impressions of their feet.

But it soon became evident that elephants were not the only living creatures that had used this track. Human bones gnawed by beasts of prey, whole human skeletons, still wearing the iron fetters of slavery, everywhere strewed the ground. It was a scene only too common in Central Africa, where like cattle driven to the slaughter, poor miserable men are dragged in caravans for hundreds of weary miles, to perish on the road in countless numbers beneath the trader’s lash, to succumb to the mingled horrors of fatigue, privation, and disease, or, if provisions fail, to be butchered, without pity or remorse, by sword and gun.

That slave-caravans had passed that way was too obvious to permit a doubt. For at least a mile, at almost every step Dick came in contact with the scattered bones; while ever and again huge goat suckers, disturbed by the approach of the travellers, rose with flapping wings, and circled round their heads.

The youth’s heart sank with secret dismay lest Mrs. Weldon should divine the meaning of this ghastly scene, and appeal to him for explanation, but fortunately she had again insisted on carrying her little patient, and although the child was fast asleep, he absorbed her whole attention. Nan was by her side, almost equally engrossed. Old Tom alone was fully alive to the significance of his surroundings, and with downcast eyes he mournfully pursued his march. Full of amazement, the other negroes looked right and left upon what might appear to them as the upheaval of some vast cemetery, but they uttered no word of inquiry or surprise.

Meantime the bed of the stream had increased both in breadth and depth, and the rivulet had in a degree lost its character of a rushing torrent. This was a change which Dick Sands observed hopefully, interpreting it as an indication that it might itself become navigable, or would empty itself into some more important tributary of the Atlantic. His resolve was fixed: he would follow its course at all hazards. As soon, therefore, as he found that the elephant’s track was quitting the water’s edge, he made up his mind to abandon it, and had no hesitation in again resorting to the use of the axe. Once more, then, commenced the labour of cutting a way through the entanglement of bushes and creepers that were thick upon the soil. It was no longer forest through which they were wending their arduous path; trees were comparatively rare; only tall clumps of bamboos rose above the grass, so high, however, that even Hercules could not see above them, and the passage of the little troop could only have been discovered by the rustling in the stalks.

In the course of the afternoon, the soil became soft and marshy. It was evident that the travellers were crossing plains that in a long rainy season must be inundated. The ground was carpeted with luxuriant mosses and graceful ferns, and the continual appearance of brown hematite wherever there was a rise in the soil, betokened the existence of a rich vein of metal beneath.

Remembering what he had read in Dr. Livingstone’s account of these treacherous swamps, Dick bade his companions take their footing warily. He himself led the way. Tom expressed his surprise that the ground should be so soaked when there had been no rain for some time.

“I think we shall have a storm soon,” said Bat,

“All the more reason, then,” replied Dick, “why we should get away from these marshes as quickly as possible. Carry Jack again, Hercules; and you, Bat and Austin, keep close to Mrs. Weldon, so as to be able to assist her if she wants your help. But take care, take care, Mr. Benedict!” he cried out in sudden alarm; “what are you doing, sir?”

“I’m slipping in,” was poor Benedict’s helpless reply. He had trodden upon a kind of quagmire and, as though a trap had been opened beneath his feet, was fast disappearing into the slough. Assistance was immediately rendered, and the unfortunate naturalist was dragged out, covered with mud almost to his waist, but thoroughly satisfied because his precious box of specimens had suffered no injury. Actæon undertook for the future to keep close to his side, and endeavour to avoid a repetition of the mishap.

The accident could not be said to be altogether free from unpleasant consequences. Air-bubbles in great numbers had risen to the surface of the mire from which Benedict had been extricated, and as they burst they disseminated an odious stench that was well-nigh intolerable. The passage of these pestilential districts is not unfrequently very dangerous, and Livingstone, who on several occasions waded through them in mud that reached to his breast, compares them to great sponges composed of black porous earth, in which every footstep causes streams of moisture to ooze out.

For well nigh half a mile they had now to wend their cautious way across this spongy soil. Mrs. Weldon, ankle-deep in the soft mud, was at last compelled to come to a stand-still; and Hercules, Bat, and Austin, all resolved that she should be spared further discomfort, and insisted upon weaving some bamboos into a litter, upon which, after much reluctance to become such a burden, she was induced, with Jack beside her, to take her place.

After the delay thus caused, the procession again started on its perilous route. Dick Sands continued to walk at the head, in order to test the stability of the footing; Action followed, holding Cousin Benedict firmly by the arm; Tom took charge of old Nan, who without his support would certainly have fallen into the quagmire; and the three other negroes carried the litter in the rear. It was a matter of the greatest difficulty to find a path that was sufficiently firm; the method they adopted was to pick their way as much as possible on the long rank grass that on the margin of the swamps was tolerably tough; but in spite of the greatest precaution, there was not one of them who escaped occasionally sinking up to his knees in slush.

At about five o’clock they were relieved by finding themselves on ground of a more clayey character; it was still soft and porous below, but its surface was hard enough to give a secure foothold. There were watery pores that percolated the subsoil, and these gave evident witness to the proximity of a river-district.

The heat would have been intolerably oppressive if it had not been tempered by some heavy storm-clouds which obstructed the direct influence of the sun’s rays. Lightning was observed to be playing faintly about the sky, and there was now and again the low growl of distant thunder. The indications of a gathering storm were too manifest to be disregarded, and Dick could not help being very uneasy. He had heard of the extreme violence of African storms, and knew that torrents of rain, hurricanes that no tree could resist, and thunderbolt after thunderbolt were the usual accompaniment of these tempests. And here in this lowland desert, which too surely would be completely inundated, there would not be a tree to which they could resort for shelter, while it would likewise be utterly vain to hope to obtain a refuge by excavation, as water would be found only two feet below the surface.

[Illustration: Another brilliant flash brought the camp once again into relief.]

After scrutinizing the landscape, however, he noticed some low elevations on the north that seemed to form the boundary of the marshy plain. A few trees were scattered along their summits; if his party could get no other shelter here, he hoped they would be able to find themselves free from any danger caused by the rising flood.

“Push on, friends, push on!” he cried; “three miles more, and we shall be out of this treacherous lowland.”

His words served to inspire a fresh confidence, and in spite of all the previous fatigue, every energy was brought into play with renewed vigour. Hercules, in particular, seemed ready to carry the whole party, if it had been in his power.

The storm was not long in beginning. The rising ground was still two miles away. Although the sun was above the horizon, the darkness was almost complete; the overhanging volumes of vapour sank lower and lower towards the earth, but happily the full force of the deluge which must ultimately come did not descend as yet. Lightning, red and blue, flashed on every side and appeared to cover the ground with a network of flame.

Ever and again the little knot of travellers were in peril of being struck by the thunderbolts which, on that treeless plain, had no other object of attraction. Poor little Jack, who had been awakened by the perpetual crashes, buried his face in terror in Hercules’ breast, anxious, however, not to distress his mother by any outward exhibition of alarm. The good-natured negro endeavoured to pacify him by promises that the lightning should not touch him, and the child, ever confident in the protection of his huge friend, lost something of his nervousness.

But it could not be long before the clouds would burst and discharge the threatened down-pour.

“What are we to do, Tom?” asked Dick, drawing up close to the negro’s side.

“We must make a rush for it; push on with all the speed we can.”

“But where?” cried Dick.

“Straight on,” was the prompt reply; “if the rain catches us here on the plain we shall all be drowned.”

“But where are we to go?” repeated Dick, in despair; “if only there were a hut! But look, look there!”

A vivid flash of lightning had lit up the country, and Dick declared that he could see a camp which could hardly be more than a quarter of a mile ahead.

The negro looked doubtful.

“I saw it too,” he assented: “but if it be a camp at all it would be a camp of natives; and to fall into that would involve us in a worse fate than the rain.”

Another brilliant flash brought the camp once again into relief; it appeared to be made up of about a hundred conical tents, arranged very symmetrically, each of them being from twelve to fifteen feet in height. It had the appearance, from a distance, of being deserted; if it were really so, it would afford just the shelter that was needed; otherwise, at all hazards, it must be most carefully avoided.

“I will go in advance,” said Dick, after a moment’s reflection, “and reconnoitre it.”

“Let one of us, at least, go with you,” replied Tom.

“No, stay where you are; I shall be much less likely to be discovered if I go alone.”

Without another word, he darted off, and was soon lost in the sombre darkness that was only broken by the frequent lightning.

Large drops of rain were now beginning to fall.

Tom and Dick had been walking some little distance in advance of the rest of the party, who consequently had not overheard their conversation. A halt being made, Mrs. Weldon inquired what was the matter. Tom explained that a camp or village had been noticed a little way in front, and that the captain had gone forward to investigate it. Mrs. Weldon asked no further questions, but quietly waited the result. It was only a few minutes before Dick returned.

“You may come on,” he cried.

“Is the camp deserted?” asked Tom.

“It is not a camp at all; it is a lot of ant-hills!”

“Ant-hills!” echoed Benedict, suddenly aroused into a state of excitement.

[Illustration: One after another, the whole party made their way inside]

“No doubt of it, Mr. Benedict.” replied Dick; “they are ant-hills twelve feet high at least: and I hope we shall be able to get into them.”

“Twelve feet!” the naturalist repeated; “they must be those of the termites, the white ants; there is no other insect that could make them. Wonderful architects are the termites.”

“Termites, or whatever they are, they will have to turn out for us,” said Dick.

“But they will eat us up!” objected Benedict.

“I can’t help that,” retorted Dick; “go we must, and go at once.”

“But stop a moment,” continued the provoking naturalist; “stop, and tell me: I can’t be wrong: I always thought that white ants could never be found elsewhere than in Africa.”

“Come along, sir, I say; come along, quick!” shouted Dick, terrified lest Mrs. Weldon should have overheard him.

They hurried on. A wind had risen; large spattering drops were now beginning to fall more heavily on the ground and in a few minutes it would be impossible to stand against the advancing tempest. The nearest of the accumulation of ant-hills was reached in time, and however dangerous their occupants might be, it was decided either to expel them, or to share their quarters. Each cone was formed of a kind of reddish clay, and had a single opening at its base. Hercules took his hatchet, and quickly enlarged the aperture till it would admit his own huge body. Not an ant made its appearance. Cousin Benedict expressed his extreme surprise. But the structure unquestionably was empty, and one after another the whole party made their way inside.

The rain by this time was descending in terrific torrents, strong enough to extinguish, one would think, the most violent explosions of the electric fluid. But the travellers were secure in their shelter, and had nothing to fear for the present; their tenement was of greater stability than a tent or a native hut. It was one of those marvellous structures erected by little insects, which to Cameron appeared even more wonderful than the upraising of the Egyptian pyramids by human hands. To use his own comparison, it might be likened to the construction of a Mount Everest, the loftiest of the Himalayan peaks, by the united labour of a nation. PYhcpyJmMlGe9RqpNqgMX+3+T72sShVI7+643KULpK1R71dndmsFVSlN1kjXCElo