"Wait until you go to India where the masters are," d.i.c.k continued.

"Then you will see miracles that even our Mahatma can't understand."

"I'd love to go," said the girl. "Africa is thrilling enough, goodness knows, but India fascinates me."

Before the feast broke up, Dan, Ray and d.i.c.k slipped away, too tired to hold their eyes open.

CHAPTER XIV

TO THE RESCUE!

The next morning before dawn had penetrated the jungle, d.i.c.k awoke from a troubled sleep with a voice sounding in his ears.

"Arise my son! Now is the time to set forth."

Springing from his bed of leafy branches and soft skins, d.i.c.k saw his faithful Kurt pacing back and forth near by, while Kurul, stretched under a mango tree, was snoring heavily.

The two devoted tribesmen had guarded him, taking shifts through the night. Near his resting place Ray and Dan were still sound asleep, exhausted by the excitement of the night before.

d.i.c.k paused a moment to look at the sleeping girl, whose flushed cheeks and dark tumbled hair made a pretty picture, but again the voice was in his ears, and he recognized it as the Mahatma's.

"Take the horses and set out to find your father. Now is the time."

d.i.c.k could not see the Hindu. A few drowsy natives were stirring about the camp, but the wise man had sought a hiding place in some hut. Yet the Boy King knew that his adviser was guiding him by sending his message as before, and he hurried to get his force together.

s.n.a.t.c.hing a hasty bite as he moved about, d.i.c.k made up a party of picked men. First he selected Kurt, Kurul and Raal, dependable fighters; then Mutaba, for his knowledge of the jungle, and then a number of first cla.s.s warriors from the Gorols and Taharans, as many as there were horses to mount.

Mutaba seemed to require no explanation. It seemed as though the Mahatma had told him where to go and what to do.

In a few minutes the party set out, with Ray and Dan following in the rear, rubbing their eyes sleepily. Veena rode with them, looking very fresh and happy. Since Raal had won her heart by rescuing her, the little savage girl was no longer jealous of Ray and wanted to be her friend.

As for the Mahatma, he stayed in the camp, promising to guide them from his resting place.

The trail of the fleeing Arabs was not hard to follow, as there were plenty of hoof prints in the soft earth of the forest, and the undergrowth gave them no chance to stray from the narrow path.

Yet d.i.c.k saw how wise had been the Mahatma's advice to make no attempt to follow in the previous night's darkness. The way was crooked as a snake's trail and pa.s.sed on narrow strips of hard ground between treacherous swamps, while sometimes a fallen tree was the only bridge across a sluggish stream.

The mist hung heavy over the forest, so that the depths were veiled in gray shadow and the sun could not penetrate the low-hanging fog, though it soon warmed it until it resembled the steam room of a Turkish bath.

"Glory be!" exclaimed Dan, yawning and mopping his wet brow. "This is a terrible place to be lost. I'd rather be back on the desert. There you can see where you are going, at any rate!"

"Don't make a noise," cautioned Ray. "We don't know what enemies may be lurking about."

"That's a fact. Mobogoma and his blacks may be behind any of those trees, waiting to shoot us full of arrows and make us look like a pincushion."

"Yes. Or the Arabs may be close by. And that terrible Jess Slythe."

"I hope he is!" Dan exclaimed. "I'd like to get my hands on that fellow."

"Don't, Dan! It makes me shudder to think of it. He wouldn't think twice about killing you in cold blood."

"I'm not scared of him!" boasted Dan, who always liked to show off a little before his sister. "If I could meet him in a fair fight, I'd soon show you who is the better man."

He was interrupted by the sound of a distant drum. The noise came from some native camp, that might be miles away and the message it tapped out in code seemed to convey a lugubrious warning.

"Gosh, that's enough to make a fellow want to creep in and hide,"

muttered Dan. "Suppose it is a signal for some war party to attack us!"

"It does scare a person," Ray admitted. "Here in the jungle everything is so terrifying and the drums get on my nerves."

d.i.c.k was far in advance at the head of the party with Mutaba.

"What do you make of that drum?" he asked.

The guide shook his black head and grinned.

"Is it a war drum?"

"No, Bwana d.i.c.k."

"Is it a warning from Chief Mobogoma to some other tribe?"

"No, Bwana d.i.c.k. Pay no attention to that drum."

"Tell me. If we are in danger I've got to know about it."

"I tell you, Master," said Mutaba. "The black fellows have drums for war. They have drums for other things, too. This drum tells a man's wife, 'I am on Snake Island, hunting with my friends and we killed much meat."

"Is that all?"

"No. Listen, now it says more. It says, 'I ate so much last night that I am too heavy to walk. I won't come back until tomorrow night.'"

d.i.c.k laughed. "That's like a 'phone call from the office. What does the man's wife say?"

"Nothing." Mutaba grinned. "Wait until he get home. Then she say plenty!"

"I guess it's the same the whole world over," smiled d.i.c.k. "Say, this is fine! The fog is lifting. And look, we are getting out of the forest."

Mutaba cautioned for silence and, dismounting, ran ahead to see what was before them, while Dan halted the column.

He awaited anxiously until the guide returned and explained in awe-struck tones:

"Ahead of us is a wide clearing on high ground. A great bird is there with broken wings. It is terrible magic."

"Are the Arabs there? And did you see Jess Slythe?"

"Yes, Bwana d.i.c.k. Slythe is there, but the others are leaving. I think they are afraid of the giant bird with broken wings."