Inquiries from Cujo elicited the information that the mountain mentioned was located about one hundred miles away, in the center of an immense plain. It was said to be full of gold, but likewise haunted by the ghost of a departed warrior known to the natives as Gnu-ho-mumoli—Man-of-the-Gnu-eye.
“I reckon that ghost story, was started, by somebody who wanted, to keep the wealth of che mountain to himself,” observed Tom. “I don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Cujo?”
The tall African shrugged his ebony shoulders, “Maybe no ghost—but if dare is, no want to see ‘um,” he said laconically. Nevertheless he did not object to leading them in the direction of the supposedly haunted mountain.
So far the natives had been more or less friendly, but now those that were met said but little to Cujo, while scowls at the whites were frequent. It was learned that the college party from the East was in the vicinity.
“Perhaps they did something to offend the natives,” observed Randolph Rover. “As you can see, they are simple and childlike in their ways, and as quickly offended on one hand as they are pleased on the other. All of you must be careful in your treatment of them, otherwise we may get into serious trouble.”
CHAPTER XXIII
DICK MEETS AN OLD ENEMY
One afternoon Dick found himself alone near the edge of a tiny lake situated on the southern border of the jungle through which the party had passed. The others had gone up the lake shore, leaving him to see what he could catch for supper.
He had just hooked a magnificent fish of a reddish-brown color, when, on looking up, he espied an elderly man gazing at him intently from a knoll of water-grass a short distance away.
“Richard Rover, is it—ahem—possible?” came slowly from the man’s thin lips. “Surely I must be dreaming!”
“Josiah Crabtree!” ejaculated Dick, so surprised that he let the fish fall into the water again. “How on earth did you get out here?”
“I presume I might—er—ask that same question,” returned the former teacher of Putnam Hall. “Did you follow me to Africa?”
“Do you imagine I would be fool enough to do that, Mr. Crabtree? No, the Stanhopes and I were content to let you go—so long as you minded your own business in the future.”
“Do not grow saucy, boy; I will not stand it.”
“I am not saucy, as you see fit to term it, Josiah Crabtree. You know as well as I do that you ought to be in prison this minute for plotting the abduction of Dora.”
“I know nothing of the kind, and will not waste words on you. But if you did not follow me why are you here?”
“I am here on business, and not ashamed to own it.”
“Indeed. And you—did you come in search of your missing father?”
“I did.”
“You once said he was missing. It is a long journey for one so young.”
“It’s a queer place for you to come to.”
“I am with an exploring party from Yale College. We are studying the fauna and flora of central Africa—at least, they are doing so under my guidance.”
“They must be learning a heap—under you.”
“Do you mean to say I am not capable of teaching them!” cried Josiah Crabtree, wrathfully.
“Well, if I was in their place I would want somebody else besides the man who was discharged by Captain Putnam and who failed to get the appointment he wanted at Columbia College because he could not stand the examination.”
“Boy! Boy! You know nothing of my ability!” fumed Crabtree, coming closer and shaking, his fist in Dick’s face.
“Well, I know something of your lack of ability.”
“You are doing your best to insult me!”
“Such an old fraud as you cannot be insulted, Josiah Crabtree. I read your real character the first time I met you, and you have never done anything since which has caused me to alter my opinion of you. You have a small smattering of learning and you can put on a very wise look when occasion requires. But that is all there is to it, except that behind it all you are a thorough-paced scoundrel and only lack a certain courage to do some daring bit of rascality.”
This statement of plain truths fairly set Josiah Crabtree to boiling with rage. He shook his fist in Dick’s face again. “Don’t dare to talk that way, Rover; don’t dare—or—I’ll—I’ll—”
“What will you do?”
“Never mind; I’ll show you when the proper time comes.”
“I told you once before that I was not afraid of you—and I am not afraid of you now.”
“You did not come to Africa alone, did you?”
“To be sure I did not. I have a large party with me.”
“In this vicinity?”
“Yes, within calling distance. I tell you that—and it’s the truth—so that you won’t try any underhand game on me.”
“You—you—” Josiah Crabtree broke off and suddenly grew nervous. “See here, Rover, let us be friends,” he said abruptly. “Let us drop the past and be friends-at least, so long as we are so far away from home and in the country of the enemy.”
This sudden change in manner astonished Dick. Was Crabtree serious? Certainly the man’s manner would indicate as much.
“Well, I’m willing to let past matters, drop—just for the present,” he answered, hardly knowing what to say. “I wish to pay all my attention to finding my father.”
“Exactly, Richard—and—er—you—who is with you? Anybody I know?”
“Sam and Dick and Alexander Pop.”
“Is it possible! And that black, how is it he came along?”
“He joined us by accident. But what of your party?”
“They are a set of rich young students from Yale in their senior year who engaged me to bring them hither for study and—er—recreation. And that puts me in mind. You will not—ahem—say anything about the past to them, will you?”
CHAPTER XXIV
JOSIAH CRABTREE MAKES A MOVE
As quick as a flash of lightning Dick saw through Josiah Crabtree’s scheme for, letting matters Of the past drop. The former teacher of Putnam Hall was afraid the youth would hunt up the college students from Yale and expose him to them.
As a matter of fact, Crabtree was already “on the outs” with two of the students, and he was afraid that if the truth regarding his character became known his present position would be lost to him and he would be cast off to shift for himself.
“You don’t want me to speak to the students under your charge?” said Dick slowly.
“Oh, of course you can speak to them, if you wish. But I—ahem—I would not care to—er—er—”
“To let them know what a rascal you are,” finished Dick. “Crabtree, let me tell you once for all, that you can expect no friendship, from me. You are not worthy of it. When I meet those students I will tell them whatever I see fit.”
At these words Josiah Crabtree grew as white as a sheet. Then, setting his teeth, he suddenly recovered. “Are those your friends?” he demanded, pointing up the lake shore.
As was perfectly natural, Dick turned to gaze in the direction. As he did so, Crabtree swung a stick that he carried into the air and brought it down with all force on the youth’s head. Dick felt a terrific pain, saw a million or more dancing lights flash through his brain—and then he knew no more.
“I guess I’ve fixed him,” muttered the former teacher of Putnam Hall grimly. He knelt beside the fallen boy and felt of his heart. “Not dead, but pretty well knocked out. Now what had I best do with him?”
He thought for a moment, then remembered a deep hollow which he had encountered but a short while before. Gazing around, to make certain that nobody was watching him, he picked up the unconscious lad and stalked off with the form, back into the jungle and up a small hill.
At the top there was a split between the rocks and dirt, and i
nto this he dropped poor Dick, a distance of twenty or more feet. Then he threw down some loose leaves and dead tree branches.
“Now I reckon I am getting square with those Rovers,” he muttered, as he hurried away.
The others of the Rover party wondered why Dick did not join them when they gathered around the camp-fire that night.
“He must be done fishing by this time,” said Tom. “I wonder if anything has happened to him?”
“Let us take a walk up de lake an’ see,” put in Aleck, and the pair started off without delay.
They soon found the spot where Dick had been fishing. His rod and line lay on the bank, just as he had dropped it upon Josiah Crabtree’s approach.
“Dick! Dick! Where are you?” called out Tom.
No answer came back at first. Then, to Tom’s astonishment, a strange voice answered from the woods: “Here I am! Where are you?”
“Dat aint Dick,” muttered Aleck. “Dat’s sumbuddy else, Massah Tom.”
“So it is,” replied Tom, and presently saw a tall and well-built young man struggling forth from the tall grass of the jungle.
“Hullo, what are you?” demanded the newcomer, as he stalked toward them.
“I guess I can ask the same question,” laughed Tom. “Are you the Dick who just answered me?”
“I am Dick Chester. And who are you?”
“Tom Rover. I am looking for my brother Dick, who was fishing here a while ago. Are you one of that party of college students we have heard about?”
“Yes, I’m a college student from Yale. May I ask where you come from?”
In a brief manner Tom told Dick Chester. “We can’t imagine what has become of my brother Dick,” he went on.
“Perhaps a lion ate him up,” answered the Yale student. “No, you needn’t smile. We saw a lion only yesterday. It nearly scared Mr. Crabtree into a fit.”
“Mr. Crabtree!” burst Torn. “Josiah Crabtree?”
“The same. Do you know him?”
“Indeed I do—to my sorrow. He used to be a teacher at the academy I and my brothers attend. But he was discharged. He’s a regular rascal.”
“You are sure of that?” queried Dick Chester. “I have thought so all along, but the others, would hardly believe it.”
“I am telling the truth, and can prove all I say. But just now I am anxious about my brother. You say you saw a lion?”
“Yes. He was across the lake; but Mr. Crabtree was scared to death and ran away. Frank Rand and I took shots at the beast, but I can’t say if we hit him.”
“It would be too bad if Dick dunh fell into dat lion’s clutches,” put in Aleck. “I reckon de lion would chaw him up in no time.”
“Go back and call Cujo,” said Tom. “He may be able to track my brother’s footsteps.”
At once Aleck loped off. While he was gone Tom told Dick Chester much concerning himself, and the college student related several facts in connection with the party to which he belonged.
“There are six of us students,” he said. “We were going to have a professor from Yale with us, but he got sick at the last moment and we hired Josiah Crabtree. I wish we hadn’t done it now, for he has proved more of a hindrance than a help, and his real knowledge of fauna and flora could be put in a peanut shell, with room to spare.”
“He’s a big brag,” answered Tom. “Take my advice and never trust him too far—or you may be sorry for it.”
Presently Aleck came back, with Cujo following. The brawny African began at once to examine the footprints along the lake shore.
“Him been here,” he said. “Him came up dis way. But him no walk away.”
“Didn’t walk away!” ejaculated Tom.
“No. Udder footprints walk away, but not um Massah Dick.”
“I don’t understand, Cujo. Do you think he—fell into the lake?”
“Perhaps, Massah Tom—or maybe he get into boat.”
Tom shook his head. “I don’t know of any boats around here—do you?” he asked of Dick Chester.
“No,” returned the young man from Yale. “But the natives living in the vicinity may have them.”
“Perhaps a native dun carry him off,” said Aleck. “He must be sumwhar, dat am certain.”
“Yes, he must be somewhere,” repeated Tom sadly.
By this time Sam and Randolph Rover were coming up, and also one of Dick Chester’s friends. The college students were introduced to the others by Tom, and then a general hunt began for Dick, which lasted until the shades of night had fallen. But poor Dick was not found, and all wondered greatly what had, become of him.
Tom and the others retired at ten o’clock. But not to sleep, for with Dick missing none of the Rovers could close an eye. “We must find him in the morning,” said Sam. “We simply must!” And the others agreed with him.
CHAPTER XXV
DICK AND THE LION
When poor Dick came to his senses he was lying in a heap on the decayed leaves at the bottom of the hollow between the rocks. The stuff Josiah Crabtree had thrown down still lay on top, of him, and it was a wonder that he had not been smothered.
“Where in the world am I?” was the first thought which crossed his confused mind. He tried to sit up, but found this impossible until he had scattered the dead leaves and tree branches. Even then he was so bewildered that he hardly knew what to do, excepting to stare around at his strange surroundings. Slowly the truth dawned upon him—how Josiah Crabtree had struck him down on the lake shore.
“He must have brought me here,” he murmured. “Perhaps he thought I was dead!”
Although Dick did not know it, he had been at the bottom of the hollow all evening and all night. The sun was now up once more, but it was a day later than he imagined.
The hollow was damp and full of ants and other insects, and as soon as he felt able the youth got up. There was a big lump behind his left ear where the stick had descended, and this hurt not a little.
“I’ll get square with him some day,” he muttered, as he tried to crawl out of the hollow. “He has more courage to play the villain than I gave him credit for. Sometime I’ll face him again, and then things will be different.”
It was no easy matter to get out of the hollow. The sides were steep and slippery, and four times poor Dick tried, only to slip back to the bottom. He was about to try a fifth time, when a sound broke upon his ears which caused him great alarm. From only a short distance away came the muffled roar of a lion.
Dick had never heard, this sound out in the open before, but he had heard it a number of times at the circus and at the menagerie in Central Park, New York, and he recognized the roar only too well.
“A lion!” he thought. “My gracious! I trust he isn’t coming this way!”
But he was coming that way, as Dick soon discovered. A few seconds of silence were followed by another roar which to, the alarmed youth appeared to come from almost over his head. Then came a low whine, which was kept up for fully a minute, followed by another roar. Dick hardly knew what was best—to remain at the bottom of the hollow or try to escape to some tree at the top of the opening. “If I go up now he may nab me on sight,” he thought dismally. “Oh, if only I had my—thank Heaven, I have!”
Dick had felt for his pistol before, to find it gone. But now he spotted the glint of the shiny barrel among the leaves. The weapon had fallen from his person at the time Crabtree had pitched him into the hollow. He reached for it, and to his joy found that it was fully loaded and ready for use.
Presently he heard the bushes overhead thrust aside, and then came a half roar, half whine that made him jump. Looking up, he saw a lion standing on the edge of the hollow facing him.
The monarch of the forest was holding one of his forepaws up and now he sat down on his haunches to lick the limb. Then he set up another whine and shook the limb painfully.
/>
“He has hurt that paw,” thought Dick. “Wonder if he sees me?”
Yes, he did see, just at that instant, and started back in astonishment. Then his face took on a fierce look and he gave a roar which could be heard for miles around.
Crack! It was the report of Dick’s pistol, but the youth was nervous, and the bullet merely glanced along the lion’s body, doing little or no damage. The beast roared again, then crouched down and prepared to leap upon the youth.
But the wounded forepaw was a hindrance to the lion’s movements, and he began to crawl along the hollow’s edge, seeking a better point from which to make a leap.
Then Dick’s pistol spoke up a second time.
This shot was a far better one, and the bullet passed directly through the knee-joint of the lion’s left forepaw. He was now wounded in both fore limbs, and set up a roar which seemed to fairly make the jungle tremble. Twice he started to leap down into the hollow, but each time retreated to shake one wounded limb after another into the air with whines of pain and distress.
As soon as the great beast reappeared once more Dick continued his firing. Soon his pistol was empty, but the lion had not been hit again. In nervous haste the lad started to re-load only to find that his cartridge box was empty.
“Get out!” he yelled at the lion, and threw a stone at the beast. But the lion was now determined to descend into the hollow, and paused only to calculate a sure leap to the boy’s head.
But that pause, brief as it was, was fatal to the calculations of the monarch of the jungle. From his rear came two shots in rapid succession, each hitting him in a vulnerable portion of his body. He leaped up into the air, rolled over on the edge of the hollow, and then came down, head first, just grazing Dick’s arm, and landing at the boy’s feet, stone dead.
“Hurrah! I reckon I hit him!” came in Tom Rover’s voice.
“And so did I,” came from Randolph Rover.
“But he has disappeared.”
“This way, Tom!” cried Dick, with all the strength he could command. He was shaking like a reed in the wind and all of the color had deserted his face.
“It’s Dick!” ejaculated Tom. “I told you that I had heard several pistol shots.”
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