so mystified were chief ruku-ru and the kikuyus by the concert that it was apparent the presence of the portable radio set with loudspeaker in the uppermost branches of the spreading council tree was totally unsuspected. and all lingering doubts as to whether any of the kikuyus had ventured into the tree and discovered the apparatus were swept from the minds of frank and jack.

for both it was a weird experience. under the silver radiance of the african moon, now at the full, the square was bright. any lingering shadows not dispelled by that flood of moonlight, disappeared, vanquished before the dancing gleams of a great fire. for the night here on the uplands was cool and the savages had built a roaring fire which crackled and leaped in the center of the square. to one side sat chief ruku-ru in his armchair throne, surrounded by his bodyguard of tall warriors with spears erect, while in a semi-circle about the fire and facing the council tree squatted row upon row of natives. and beyond them on every hand shown the conical roofs of the big huts.

at first alarmed at the music, the natives soon got over their fears and in no time at all, as jack called to frank’s attention, they were swaying to the strains. jack decided to take advantage of this tendency on the part of the rhythm-loving blacks. on leaving their encampment, he and frank had noted on a slip of paper the names of the records bob intended to play and their order. between each two records bob was to permit the lapse of a couple of minutes, in order that his comrades might be able to announce to chief ruku-ru and the kikuyus what the next number would be. in this way, they could add to their reputation as wizards, for wizards the kikuyus believed them to be.

“the next number is going to be one of those hawaiian things,” he whispered to frank, as the strains of a familiar sousa march drew near their conclusion. “let’s announce to chief ruku-ru that we are about to summon out of the air a piece of music for the especial benefit of the wonderful kikuyu dancers of whom we have heard so much.”

“good idea,” frank nodded. “that hawaiian umty-tum will be just about their speed.”

jack whispered to wimba and, upon conclusion of the march, the latter arose in the scheduled interval before the next number was to be broadcasted, and made jack’s announcement. that it met with friendly reception was apparent to the two boys by the stir of interest which went through the crowd.

“who do you think will dance?” whispered frank.

“i don’t know,” said jack. “perhaps everybody.”

the music began and at the first strains of the wailing syncopated air with its suggestion of beaten tom-toms, of jungles and of tropic nights, the kikuyus uttered low cries of approval. from their place near chief ruku-ru the boys looking out over that assemblage saw that now, indeed, they had won the hearts of the savages.

suddenly, from amidst the ranks of the natives squatting on their heels, the lithe slim figure of a young kikuyu warrior sprang into the wide space about the fire.

firelight falling upon him illumined the gleaming muscles of his body, naked except for breech clout. he stood a moment, still, rigid as a statue, then began to turn slowly about as if on a pivot.

“a black apollo,” whispered jack.

the music swelled, the note of savagery became more insistent. it was as if the invisible orchestra were playing for this particular audience, as if into the players had crept the very spirit of this night in a remote corner of central africa. jack and frank both felt a strange stirring within them as if a response to the music, to the occasion. but what they experienced in their cultivated minds was but a trifle, the merest breath, compared to the effect of the music upon the savage, uncivilized minds, of the blacks about them.

wimba and matse began to sway with the rest. a glassy look came into their eyes.

but they were strangers in this community. they did not dare to get to their feet.

not so the young men of the kikuyus. as the black apollo ceased pivoting and began to circle the fire with arms rigid against his sides, body swaying, knees lifting high like those of a horse on parade, other young warriors leaped from the audience into the cleared space about the fire. falling into line behind the leader, they circled in a dance at first rather stately but soon becoming madder and madder in movement until, upon the concluding strains of the record, they were flashing by the boys in a whirling, swirling mass of legs and gleaming ebon bodies.

“wow,” said frank, expelling a long breath as, following the subsidence of the music, the dancers ceased and melted back into the audience. “that was some sight. what a shame niellsen wasn’t here to take a movie of that?”

“certainly is a shame,” agreed jack. “can’t you just see the audience in some movie palace back home, sitting there in the dark, when suddenly this moonlit village square with its fire and its circle of blacks flashes on the screen? then the dancers begin! can’t you just see it? oh, boy.”

the hawaiian records had been the last number of the programme. at jack’s prompting, wimba bowing low to chief ruku-ru made this announcement. in reply, the chief spoke at such length that the boys, unable to understand a word of what was said, became impatient. then wimba turned to them, his eyes big.

“chief ruku-ru, him say tomolla him kikuyus give warrior dance for um baas,” interpreted wimba. “him say white wizards give um good time tonight, him give white wizards good time tomolla. warrior dance when sun come up.”

jack let out a low whistle. “tell chief ruku-ru we are very much pleased,” said jack, “and we’ll be there.”

wimba started to speak, but frank with an exclamation checked him.

“ask him, too, wimba, whether we can take pictures of the dance,” he commanded. “he may be scared of it, because we haven’t taken any movies here as yet, and he hasn’t become familiar with it.”

“he saw a music box once,” interpolated jack. “and now he thinks every box with a handle to be turned ought to produce music.”

frank grinned. then, realizing that they had not yet thanked chief ruku-ru for his invitation to witness the warrior dance and military tactics, he turned to the interpreter and ordered him to speak up. a man of superior parts, wimba could be trusted to couch acceptance in the floweriest of diplomatic language.

the main body of kikuyus were melting away into the moonlit darkness, doubtless discussing at a great rate the marvellous music played by the spirits of the air at the bidding of the young white wizards. the sound of laughter and high voices came muffled out of the darkness. as for chief ruku-ru, he sat watching the boys, still surrounded by his bodyguard of tall black warriors, awaiting a reply.

wimba spoke at length, the chief listening attentively. and when upon the interpreter’s conclusion, he replied, the boys saw by the relieved expression on wimba’s features, even before he interpreted for their benefit, that the chief had given the required permission for the boys to photograph the warrior dance.

such, indeed, proved to be the case. and, when diplomatic exchanges at last having been brought to a conclusion, the boys made their way back to their encampment followed by wimba, matse and the bearers, they were both jubilant and excited.

contrary to frank’s earlier formless fears regarding possible danger to bob through his being left alone, nothing untoward had occurred during their absence. in fact, the big fellow was feeling better than for days, the medicine left for him by mr. hampton having routed the fever. by the morrow, he believed he would be back to normal. and this was a satisfaction, as it would enable him to witness the military tactics and warrior dance.

“set that alarm clock for an hour before sun-up,” said frank to jack who, as the lightest sleeper, always took charge of waking everybody.

“all right,” said jack. “but wimba will see to getting us up, never fear. that fellow has the faculty of waking at any hour he decides upon. it’s a habit which all natives possess, he tells me.”

“it’s a good thing niellsen gave us some lessons in the operation of a motion picture camera,” said frank. “i wouldn’t have dared to try to take that picture stuff in front of the council tree by moonlight, because i don’t know enough about the game and would just have ruined a couple of hundred precious feet of film. but at this daylight stuff tomorrow, i expect we’ll be all right.”

with this the others agreed. the photographic equipment brought in by the expedition consisted of four film cameras, three graflex hand cameras for obtaining “stills,” many film packs for the latter, and eighty thousand feet of film for the former.

at nairobi was a motor truck outfitted as dark room and developing plant. originally, it had been mr. hampton’s intention to take this motor truck with them on their wanderings, but so rough had proved to be some of the country negotiated on the first trip out from the settlement, that it had been decided to leave the plant thereafter at nairobi so long as the party remained in the kikuyu country.

before the boys retired to sleep, there came a low call from outside and then wimba parted the tent flap and looked in.

“him funny bizness here, baas,” said he, as jack advanced to meet him. “wimba and matse take um down.”

with that, he lifted the tent flap and thrust within the loudspeaker, loop aerial and portable radio set which several nights before, under the direction of frank and jack, he had installed in the council tree.

“by george, i forgot all about that,” said jack, taking the articles one by one as wimba passed them into the tent.

“you’re a good scout, wimba,” said frank approvingly. “i forgot, too.”

wimba shrugged and ducked. “no good let um b’long council tree too long,” he said. “mebbe chief send um man up pretty soon to have look—see.”

“he’s right, fellows,” growled bob from his cot. “these people are curious as monkeys, and after the novelty wore off they’d be sure to investigate.”

“well,” said jack, as wimba dropped the flap behind him and departed, “thanks to wimba, when chief ruku-ru goes to investigate now he’ll not find anything. and certainly the old radio saved wimba’s life and pulled us out of a bad hole.”

“besides really being responsible for getting us a chance to see the chief’s army at drill tomorrow,” said frank sleepily. “well, fade out, will you? i’m dog tired.”

presently all three were sunk in slumber—a sleep tinged with pleasant thoughts of the novel sight in store for the morrow, but untouched by premonition of the perils to follow.