Foster James H.
The Forest of Mystery

CHAPTER XXVII
The White Pigmy Elephant

JOE’S mind was in a whirl. He thought of jumping up and firing point-blank at the oncoming leopard, but then he suddenly remembered that he had not been able to discharge the revolver. Perhaps the cartridges were still wet. If they were and would not fire, it would probably spell his finish.

He thought, too, of waking Bob, but he knew that this would cause a commotion, which might make the leopard charge without delay. No, Joe thought, neither of these plans would work.

Suddenly his face brightened somewhat. A wild scheme was in his mind. Would it work?

As undisturbing as possible, the boy reached into his pocket and removed the little case of matches. Protected by a tightly fitting cap, they were unaffected by the rain. His movement had been so cautious that apparently the leopard had not noticed.

Knowing that the heat of the atmosphere had dried out his shirt to a considerable degree, he resorted to a desperate measure. With a quick movement he tore the shirt from his shoulders, struck a match, and lighted the cloth.

Almost at once the tiny blaze of the match increased in size until it was quite large. When satisfied that the cloth was burning sufficiently, Joe tied it to a twig and, with all the strength he could muster, threw it at the leopard.

There was a howl of fear and pain, and then the sound of retreating footsteps. The beast had vanished into the blackness of the jungle.

Meanwhile, Bob had jumped to his feet, having been aroused by the howl. He looked inquiringly at his friend.

“Anything wrong?” he queried, removing his revolver.

“Nothing now – I hope,” Joe returned, gazing off into the forest. “A leopard was stalking us. I think he’s gone now.”

“Really? Is it gone? What did you do?”

Joe told of what had happened. When he had finished, his chum regarded him admiringly.

“Good for you, old boy,” praised Bob, patting his friend on the back. “I’d have never thought of doing anything like that. But now suppose I take up the watch for a while. I’ll keep on the lookout for that leopard.”

But Joe refused, saying that his watch was not yet over.

“I’ll call you later,” he said, and Bob again retired.

Toward the end of his guard Joe heard a mysterious cry, similar to that he had heard several days before. It was most blood-curdling, sending chills down his spine. Whether it was of animal or human origin the youth had no idea.

Bob too heard the unearthly sound later during his watch, and was as frightened as his chum had been.

“The Forest of Mystery!” he breathed, looking about rather fearfully. “Certainly seems mysterious. Things could be happening right at this minute that nobody knows anything about.”

At the first streak of dawn Bob awoke Joe, although the latter was still very sleepy.

“Let me wait a little bit longer,” pleaded the latter, rubbing his eyes.

But Bob stoutly refused.

“We’ll just have to get going again,” he said. “Have to find our dads and the others as soon as we can.”

Joe knew that this was necessary, and so arose without saying anything further.

The boys were obliged to begin the day without any breakfast, although both were ravenously hungry. They saw several small animals dart across their path, but decided to lose no time in shooting them. Delay, they knew, might mean tragedy to them.

They had not the slightest notion of which way to go in search of the safari, but they agreed to strike out to the west, as that was the direction previously taken.

Along toward noon Bob called his chum over to a little clearing.

“Look at that strange track,” he pointed out. “Was that made by a wild animal?”

“Search me,” Joe said. “I never saw anything like it before. Looks like the footprint of a person, only it’s much larger, and there aren’t any toe marks.”

The youths recalled the different animals they had come in contact with and read about. But none, they were sure, could make footprints anything like this.

“I’m sure that couldn’t have been a monkey – even a gorilla,” said Bob, “because there would be marks of its toes.”

“Let’s get out of here,” murmured Joe a bit fearfully. “Who knows what kind of a creature that might have been?”

They left the spot and plunged on through the forest. Bob removed his revolver and fired two shots, hoping that they could be heard by the safari. He refrained from firing more because of the possibility of needing the bullets in an emergency.

All morning they hiked on, paying little or no attention to the country they were passing through. They observed with interest, however, the results of the hurricane. Tall trees were lying about, having been struck by lightning; numerous small dead animals could be seen.

By noon their hunger had become almost unbearable. Joe managed to shoot a large duck-like bird, which was at once roasted over a fire. To the two starved boys, the taste was delicious.

They stopped only long enough to eat the meal, for every minute of delay was maddening to them.

“We’ve just got to find our party today,” said Bob, gritting his teeth. “If we don’t, they’ll move so far away that we never will find them.”

Joe nodded.

“But then,” he reminded his friend, “maybe they’ll stick around this vicinity. They’re probably looking for us, too, don’t forget. We’ll just – ”

He ceased abruptly and suddenly turned pale.

The reason was not far to seek. A huge spear had whizzed past his head, missing it by only a very few inches!

For some time neither of the youths spoke. They stared fearfully into the green depths of the forest whence the spear had been thrown.

Then, seeing no signs of natives, Bob broke the silence.

“What do you think?” he asked in a low voice, never taking his eyes from the jungle.

Joe waited a moment before replying. He had not yet recovered from the horror that had seized him.

“I – I don’t know what to think,” he said tensely. “Savages, cannibals, maybe.”

“But why don’t they attack us?” asked Bob, greatly puzzled.

“More than I know.”

The youths remained where they were for several minutes, fearful to move on for fear of being struck from behind. But when after quite a while nothing more happened they concluded it was safe to go on.

All through the afternoon they kept a close lookout for savages but saw none. Nor did they see any traces of human habitation. With every step they became more mystified. Who had thrown the spear? What was the object in throwing it? Why had the chums not been attacked?

“This doggone Forest of Mystery gets on my nerves,” said Joe, as late that afternoon they stopped beside a small spring. “Oh, if we could only find our safari!”

After replenishing their water bottles, which were strapped tightly over their shoulders, the young adventurers continued their frantic search.

At a little open space they suddenly caught sight of something that made them gasp in wonder.

Moving awkwardly from behind a low hill was the strangest creature they had ever laid eyes on. It was an unusually small elephant – all white!

CHAPTER XXVIII
Finding One Lost

“WHAT do you know about that?” muttered Joe Lewis, staring at the animal. “A white pigmy elephant! Wouldn’t our dads be tickled if they could see it?”

“That’s an idea,” said Bob quickly. “Why can’t we shoot it for them?”

Joe laughed.

“Impossible,” he said. “Why, these revolver cartridges wouldn’t even stop it, let alone kill it. Not much chance of doing that. Then too, we want to find our party.”

But Bob persisted.

“I tell you we can get that elephant some way,” he went on. “As for finding the safari, well – I don’t believe a few minutes’ delay would make much difference. And I feel sure we’ll find them before long. But right now let’s get that elephant.”

“But how?” demanded the other.

The animal was about twenty yards away and seemed not to notice the human invaders. And the wind was blowing away from it, so that it could not get their scent.

As silently as they could the boys crept along through the tall grass, keeping their revolvers in readiness. Bob led the way, confident that he could manage to get an effective shot.

When within five yards of it, the young hunters stopped and waited. The little elephant had its back toward them, making it impossible to fire.

Then it turned and faced them, perhaps sensing danger.

“Now!” said Bob, and together the youths fired, aiming at the eyes.

Without an outcry the elephant fell, writhed about for a second, and then was still.

“Yay!” cried Bob. “Killed it instantly. Both of those bullets found their way to the brain. And,” facing his chum, “you said it couldn’t be done.”

“I’m sorry,” grinned Joe. “I guess there isn’t anything we can’t do, eh, Bob?”

The youths hardly knew what to do with the carcass. They could not take the time to skin it, and yet they knew hyenas and vultures would soon appear if it were left where it was.

Finally they decided to do a quick job of skinning it, although perhaps they could not perform the task as well as it should be done.

Using their hunting knives, they hastily ripped off the white hide, which they were finally able to move several yards from the carcass. Then they gathered thorn bushes and surrounded it by an impenetrable boma. Over the hide as well as around it they placed several thicknesses of thorns and brambles.

“Maybe that’ll keep the vultures and hyenas away,” said Joe, as he turned to leave. “Now, if we can just find the safari.”

For a half hour the boys trudged on, their hopes slowly becoming lessened. At frequent intervals they fired their revolvers, stopping shortly after to listen.

On one occasion Bob thought he heard a shout but was not sure. Again he fired, and again he listened.

Sure enough, a faint cry was breaking the vast stillness. It was repeated again and again, and then came the sound of a rifle shot.

“It’s our party!” cried Joe happily. “They’ve heard us.”

“Come,” said Bob, setting off at a rapid pace. “Let’s hurry.”

Five minutes later the chums broke through the foliage and faced none other than Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton.

“Boys!” cried Bob’s father, his joy beyond words. “We’ve found you at last!”

Mr. Lewis was equally affected.

“We were afraid something happened to you,” he said, patting them affectionately. “We didn’t see how you could possibly go through this forest unharmed. Especially with all the strange things here.”

“Just what do you mean by that?” demanded Bob, wondering if the naturalists had also seen or heard unexplainable phenomena.

“What I said,” returned Mr. Lewis, his face grave. “Howard and I heard all kinds of mysterious noises from the depths of the forest. We haven’t any idea what they were. And there’s something else that we haven’t been able to explain.”

“What was that?” inquired Joe, thoroughly interested.

“Last night we saw a strange phosphorescence very near our camp,” his father resumed. “It shone quite brilliantly, and we weren’t able to tell what caused it. We played our flashlights on it, but could make out nothing. Some trick of nature, I suppose.”

“You weren’t the only ones to see mysterious things,” said Joe, and then told of the peculiar footprint and of the long spear that had so nearly ended his life.

When he had finished, the naturalists looked grave.

“You boys certainly had a thrilling experience,” Mr. Holton said. “Of course,” he went on, “there’s an explanation to everything that has happened. Whether we’ll be able to delve into it we have yet to see.”

“But there’s something else that will interest you,” put in Bob. “Joe and I shot a white pigmy elephant.”

“What? Not fooling us, are you?”

“Come, and we’ll show you,” said Bob, and led the way through the forest.

When they finally reached the spot, they found the boma just as they had built it. The carcass, however, had been torn to pieces by vultures and hyenas.

The youths removed the thorn and bramble bushes from the enclosure and then turned to get the elephant skin.

To their great surprise, it was gone!

“Of all things!” exclaimed Bob, rubbing his forehead in perplexity. “That skin has disappeared as if by magic!”

Joe glanced at his chum, then at the boma. He looked around the other side, but the white skin was nowhere in sight. Finally he straightened up, a look of supreme bewilderment on his face.

“Gone sure enough,” he said.

“Are you certain you put it there?” inquired Mr. Holton.

“Certainly we did,” Bob assured him. “What I can’t understand is why the boma wasn’t torn to pieces. If some wild animal – ”

“Maybe it wasn’t a wild animal,” put in Joe.

“Then – what could it have been?”

“Beyond me.” Joe had no suggestion of an idea.

The two naturalists took up where their sons had left off and searched the vicinity of the boma. But they had to admit defeat.

“Another mystery to add to our already long list,” commented Mr. Lewis. “It seems that there is no end to them.”

“Perhaps,” suggested Mr. Holton suddenly, “natives got that skin. They could have been watching the boys place it there. And they could have covered up the thorn enclosure just as it was.”

“Possibly,” came from Mr. Lewis. “But now let’s get back to camp. We’ll have some busy days before us.”

Noko and the other natives gave Bob and Joe a royal welcome on seeing them alive and well. For none knew better than the blacks the dangers of a tropical hurricane.

The two naturalists had already collected a large number of specimens. During the days that followed they added more, many of which were unknown.

Bob and Joe did their share of collecting, bringing down not a few curious wild creatures. They also spent their time in taking motion pictures of the wild country about them.

On one occasion they left camp on an all-day trip, taking two of the bearers with them. They hoped to photograph unusual scenes and perhaps solve some of the mysteries that so bewildered them.

They were following a strictly compassed course, so as to take no chance of becoming lost from the others. Their previous experience had taught them to have even more respect for the great African forest.

When the sun was overhead, they sat in the shade of a great raffia palm, to escape the heat and partake of lunch.

Joe gazed off rather absently through the trees. Suddenly his jaw dropped.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bob in surprise. “What do you see?”

“Look away over there,” Joe pointed out. “See that high ant hill?”

“Why – yes. And look. There’s a hut on top of it. Who do you suppose lives there?”

“Let’s go and see.”

Together the young explorers trekked through the forest until they came to the ant hill. The latter was all of thirty feet in height, and built firmly on its summit was a small thatched hut.

“Boy, this is a mystery,” murmured Bob. “Shall we go up and investigate?”

“I’m willing.”

There was a crude ladder running up the side of the ant hill. Up this the chums made their way. They feared at every moment that the ladder might collapse with their weight.

“Keep a hand on your revolver,” warned Bob. “There’s no telling what may be in that hut. Maybe some savage is asleep there, for all we know.”

When halfway to the top, they heard a shout from below.

Looking down they saw a man – a white man!

CHAPTER XXIX
Angry Natives

“THOMAS Seabury!” cried Bob and Joe almost in one breath, recognizing the man from a picture his brother had shown them in Mombasa.

They scrambled down the ladder in all haste, forgetting danger, forgetting everything.

“My name!” the man exclaimed in a bewildered voice. “How, may I ask, did you young men get hold of it?”

Mr. Seabury was rather a small man, with long gray hair and a heavy beard. His fine face bore the look of a scholar.

“We’ve been hunting for you,” Joe told him. “Your brother, back in Mombasa, asked us to be on the lookout for you.”

“Then – he is not here?”

“No,” returned Bob. He did not think it wise to add that George Seabury had been injured by a rhino. “He couldn’t come with us, but we promised to be on watch for you.”

The man reeled as if to fall. Then he got a grip on himself.

“At last,” he murmured, breathing heavily, “I have seen a white person.”

“Were you lost?” inquired Joe.

“Lost, yes. And worse than lost,” returned Mr. Seabury grimly. “I was captured by hostile savages and was about to be sacrificed in their horrid rites. But I managed to slip off in the night and escape from their village. It was a horrible experience – wandering through this trackless forest. I had given myself up for lost when I happened to find this hut. Who built it I do not know. But it had food stored away, and I ate it at once.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Joe. “In this vicinity, I mean.”

“Only two days,” Seabury replied. “Though it seems more like two years. I held not the slightest hope of seeing any white person. In fact, I fully expected to die a slow death from hunger. But now,” he continued in a lighter tone, “I am saved.”

“It was just luck that we found you,” Bob said. “My friend here – Wait. Pardon us for not introducing ourselves. This is Joe Lewis, and my name is Holton – Bob Holton.”

Thomas Seabury extended a hand, which the youths clasped warmly.

“As I was saying,” resumed Bob, “Joe happened to see this ant hill. We came over to investigate.”

“I am only too thankful that you did,” the man said. “But how did you happen to be here? What are you doing in Africa?”

“We’re with our dads,” Joe told him. “Came to collect specimens of wild animals and birds. And now, Mr. Seabury, suppose we go back to camp. That is, if you’re ready.”

“I am more than ready,” was the answer. “Camp is a word that sounds better to me than ’most any I can think of.”

They found the two natives waiting. The latter displayed unusual surprise at seeing another white man in that vast jungle. Mr. Seabury fell to talking with them, telling them in their own language of his experience.

Back at camp, which they finally reached, Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton met them.

“But look who we’ve found,” said Joe happily. “Thomas Seabury.”

“Well, what in the – ” Mr. Lewis could hardly believe his eyes, while Bob’s father was no less surprised.

Joe introduced Mr. Seabury to the naturalists and then told of how he and his chum had found the missing man.

“Good for you, boys,” praised Mr. Holton. “If you hadn’t found him, perhaps he wouldn’t have been found.”

“I wonder if I am dreaming,” said Mr. Seabury. “If I am, I never want to wake up.”

The youths’ fathers spent the remainder of the day in telling of their experiences since leaving Mombasa and in listening to Seabury’s.

But the next morning all were up early preparing for an extensive hunt for specimens. Bob and Joe with their cameras, and the scientists with their rifles, left camp and headed southward, with several of the bearers following.

They had not gone far when they became aware of a deep drumming noise, which seemed to roll along the ground.

“What’s that?” asked Bob, becoming worried. “Savages?”

Mr. Seabury, who was with them, nodded.

“I have often heard the noise,” he said, “and I believe it is made by natives. But they are probably a great distance off. I don’t believe we are in any danger.”

All during the hunt the adventurers could hear the deep vibrating of drums, but as it seemed to get no nearer they thought no more about it.

Back at camp they saw a group of strange natives, their faces streaked with white paint, talking with Noko and the bearers. At first the explorers hesitated to move on into camp for fear that trouble was at hand. But they finally concluded that it would be safe.

“What’s up, Noko?” inquired Mr. Holton.

The tall black seemed glad his masters had returned.

“Him want sell you um kidogo [little] white elephant skin,” Noko said.

“A white elephant skin?” demanded Bob suddenly. “Let’s see it.”

The natives seemed to regard the youths in some surprise. But they soon did as asked, producing the white elephant skin.

At sight of it Bob and Joe uttered startled exclamations.

“Why, that’s the one we killed!” cried Bob angrily. “See. There’s where our bullets entered the head.”

“You’re right, Bob,” said Mr. Lewis, after a moment of examining the skin.

“Ask them where they got it,” said Joe.

The naturalists put the question before the natives in their own language. They replied that they had speared it several miles from there, and, having heard of the safari, went to see if they could sell it.

“They’re big liars!” stormed Bob, when this had been translated. “That white elephant skin belongs to us. And,” he added with determination, “we’re going to have it without pay!

“Tell those savages to get out of here, Noko,” he said. “Tell them that if they don’t they’ll wish they had.” He removed his revolver from its holster and, as Noko talked, flashed it before the savages.

When Noko had finished translating, the savages grew furiously angry. They advanced threateningly toward the explorers, paying no attention to Bob’s gun.