"That's so, they will be at a disadvantage in a battle with these jungle savages who know every inch of the ground," said Dan thoughtfully. "They're brave enough but it would help if they had a few of the natives of the section to show them the way around."

"Never mind, we will take a chance," said d.i.c.k. "We're going to win out! And come through with flying colors!"

CHAPTER XI

KING SOLOMON'S CROWN

Suddenly Mutaba raised both arms above his head and opened and closed his hands rapidly.

It was a signal.

The paddlers in the following canoes slowed down and the leader in each little vessel relayed the silent order until the last boat had received it.

The keen-eyed jungle tracker had spied an opening in the wall of trees and vines that d.i.c.k and his friend could hardly see, even when the canoe was making straight for it.

Apparently the little vessel which was headed right across the stream was about to run its nose into the bank, but at a muttered warning from Mutaba the crew ducked low and the canoe glided under a leafy fringe and entered a creek that allowed free pa.s.sage.

As the stream widened d.i.c.k could see it extending like a black trail deep into the forest. Here the shadows were so heavy that there was not enough light for plants that grow close to the ground, consequently the undergrowth was not so dense as it was near the river bank.

d.i.c.k and Dan could see farther into the shadowy depths after their eyes became accustomed to the twilight, and now and then they saw a fleeting shape, so distant that it could not be recognized as man or beast.

"This is ghostly," whispered Dan. "A magic forest, if there ever was one!"

"Cheer up! We have strong magic on our side," smiled d.i.c.k. "The Mahatma is with us. We would be lost without him."

"Old Whiskers--I mean, Mahatma Sikandar, is right there with the goods!" Dan was enthusiastic. "Say, I hope he won't hold it against me that I was so fresh."

"Don't worry. His mind is full of important things. I'm sure he thinks of your wise-cracks as less than the dust."

"It's up to me to do something brave and prove to the Mahatma that I am more than a smart aleck."

"That's the right spirit! I have the feeling that a big sc.r.a.p is about to break. You'll have plenty of chances to show what you can do."

"Watch me! If I can lay hands on Jess Slythe, I'll pay him out for what he did to my sister."

d.i.c.k interrupted him.

"Quiet. Mahatma Sikandar looks worried. Maybe there is danger near by."

The tracker spoke in Swahili, a dialect spoken by many tribes in different parts of Africa, of which d.i.c.k understood a few words.

"Bwana d.i.c.k," he said earnestly. "We are near the place where we leave the canoes. I have seen signs of enemies. So be quiet, Bwana d.i.c.k, and tell your talkative friend to be silent."

d.i.c.k translated in whispers and Dan followed the warning.

Cautiously the canoe entered a wide part of the stream where vines and bushes grew in a patch of sunlight.

Mutaba looked at the banks carefully for signs of footprints or broken branches that would tell of intruders, then pointed to a certain spot where the earth had been trodden by animals who came to drink.

"This is the place, Bwana d.i.c.k," he said. "I go first."

As the canoe touched the sh.o.r.e, the powerful native leaped to the bank as lightly as a cat, crouched low as if smelling the ground and examined every inch of the soil near him.

Then he peered into the forest depths carefully and finally raised one hand as a signal.

His blacks, who had been holding their bows in readiness for an attack, now followed him, and canoe after canoe unloaded.

Mutaba led the way by a narrow trail to a clearing where the forces could a.s.semble, and here the Taharans and the Gorols awaited orders from the Mahatma.

The wise man came last. Even in the dense jungle he refused to walk, so the litter was carried by his bearers, while hatchet-wielding natives cut and slashed at the vines and brush.

But when he reached the clearing, Mahatma Sikandar refused firmly to accompany the war party any further and ordered the litter set down under a tree.

"My ways are the ways of peace," he said. "I remain here and my spirit will direct you from afar."

"I wonder whether he's afraid," whispered Dan.

"Ssh," cautioned d.i.c.k. "There you go! Offending him again!"

For the Mahatma's dark eyes stared angrily in Dan's direction and he beckoned the boys to come closer.

"Listen," he said. "I came from my own country in search of peace. A voice led me for many weary miles over seas and strange lands, across burning deserts and at last I was directed by my unseen guide to this jungle tribe. The voice directed me to bring peace to the warlike tribe of the Kungoras."

"And the natives understood and bowed down to you?" questioned d.i.c.k.

"Yes, my son. Fierce as they are, they received me as a friend and master. From that day, they have had no war. I promised them peace and I brought them peace."

"I see that they are anxious to join us in this raid," said Dan. "They have been quiet too long."

"Can you lend us just a few warriors?" asked d.i.c.k. "They know the jungle warfare and can show my desert fighters what to do."

"I can lend you a guide, Mutaba," said the Mahatma. "But once I set the tribe free to warfare, my days here are ended."

"You mean that they would turn on you and kill you?"

"No, my son. I mean that the unseen guide who led me here to meditate, told me that when war came to my tribe, on that day my search would begin once more."

"Your search? For what?"

Dan's question brought an unexpected reply from the Hindu.

"My search is for an ancient crown of ma.s.sive gold and gems," he said.

"It is so old that no man knows when it was made or for whom. It is of great value to the possessor."

"If it's gold you want," said Dan, "we know where you can get a shipload. Don't we, d.i.c.k?"