hours later frank was still shaking as he stood in the darkness on the edge of the bluff gazing through the night glasses in the direction indicated by the pointers and waiting for the signal rockets which he expected momentarily to see flare up from the village in the darkened plain far below.

behind him at the radio station was bob with samba seated before the transmitter. every wire had been gone over, the motor had been tuned and found to be in perfect working condition, and the two boys were confident of being able to carry out their part of the program.

in the grove in the background, frank could see here and there the gleam of one of the cooking fires about which the bearers left to him and bob were preparing their evening meal. with nothing to do that day, the bearers had enjoyed life by taking a long nap. now they were up and about the fires, frank knew, cooking and chattering. he could even hear occasionally the sound of a laugh from the light-hearted fellows, louder than usual.

well, they would need those fires, he reflected, not alone for the preparation of food but to provide warmth. at this altitude of 8,000 feet, the nights, as they had discovered the night previous, became very cold. in fact, frank was wearing heavy canvass knickers tucked into high lace boots and the warmest sweater he could find, for the first time in months.

the presence of bob not far away and of the bearers in the background, together with the glow of their fires, was welcome to the boy on lonely outpost above that pit of shadows into which night seemed to have flung a world of soft velvet.

for the forest world was awake. and now the quiet of day, broken only by bird calls or the occasional bark of a gorilla, had given way to a medley of terrifying sounds. the sobbing of leopards and cheetahs thrilled and vibrated mournfully. constantly the boom of the gorilla cut across all other noises, aweing them into silence for a moment, after which they would begin again. owls hooted, insects shrilled and hummed near at hand, about frank’s face. and from the distant plain below rose the shrill barking of a jackal pack pierced through now and again by the mournful note of the hyena.

it was africa. and by night africa awakes. frank was both fascinated and repelled. but with it all he was thrilled, too, thrilled at the thought that he had been lucky enough in his youth to be able to penetrate into the very heart of this most mysterious continent on the face of the globe, to behold its mysteries and wonders close at hand.

suddenly out of that velvety darkness cloaking the plain a ball of fire soared upward followed by a glowing comet’s tail of sparks, and then another and another followed.

through the spyglass frank could see them clearly, although he knew that in his remoter position at the rear, where the radio had been set up, bob was unaware that the rockets had been touched off. he did not even wait to pick his cautious way back over the rocks, which were so uneven the boys had considered it best not to erect the radio station upon them, but, instead, put his hand to his mouth and called to bob.

“all right? have they signalled?” came bob’s hail in response.

“they’ve signalled,” shouted frank. “let’s go.”

then turning his pocket flashlight on the rocks in order to guard against either missteps or stepping upon a snake, he made his way to his comrade’s side.

samba was still speaking when frank arrived, for he covered the intervening ground hastily when once free of the rocks. and as frank, at bob’s finger on his lips, stood in silence looking at their strange broadcaster, he could not repress a smile. samba was perspiring freely, although the coolness of night already had set in. and anybody unaccustomed to telephoning who has remained seated for any length of time at the instrument, will appreciate the nervousness from which the poor fellow suffered. but he was undaunted. and what was most to the point, considered frank, was the fact that his nervousness was not betrayed in his voice. what it was he was saying in the dialect of the region, frank of course could not understand. but samba was delivering it with unction and solemnity, and frank could not but reflect that in this semi-civilized man lay the makings of a remarkable actor. the truth is, of course, that primitive peoples naturally possess histrionic possibilities such as more highly civilized beings must struggle and often without result to attain.

turning toward bob, samba lifted his eyebrows in a funny quizzical glance, a question evidently as to what to do now. bob could not refrain from laughing. placing a big hand over the transmitter, he asked whether samba had said all that had been outlined to him to say.

the black nodded, and when bob said “well, that’s all, then,” and closed the circuit, he breathed a great sigh of relief.

“him tough job,” said samba simply, running his big hand over his sweating shiny face. then a look of pride crossed his features. “him good job, hey?” he asked.

both boys thwacked him heartily on the back.

“i couldn’t understand a word of it, samba,” said frank. “but it sounded mighty solemn and strong to me.”

“me, too,” agreed bob, slangily.

samba grinned.

in the meantime, at the plains village made headquarters by the prophet, raw drama was being enacted.

entering in the late afternoon, the party presented a not unimpressive array. at the head marched mr. hampton and mr. ransome, both lean, tall, capable looking, dressed in semi-military costumes of khaki topped by broad-brimmed campaign hats such as are still worn throughout the american west. revolvers swung at their sides, rifles over their shoulders.

behind marched the ten men of the guard in double file, shouldering their rifles and keeping step with military precision. and behind them came the fifty bearers, tall strapping fellows all and handy men with the long keen knives in sheaths at the waist. lake natives selected at masaka for their strength and intelligence, they were all picked men. and mr. hampton had impressed upon them the possibility of trouble and received from each the assurance that he would stand by in case of attack, but would give the native populace no cause for taking offense unless attacked.

at the head of the bearers marched jack, it being agreed that it would be best for him not to appear with mr. hampton and mr. ransome when they dealt with the chief of the village in order that later, when he should slip away to conceal the radio, his absence would go unnoticed. as for the radio, it and the aerial and loudspeaker were all packed in two small boxes borne by bearers in the middle of the line where they would be least noticed.

at the very rear of the procession moved niellsen, with his motion picture camera and tripod, two bearers carrying his film case. rightly it had been figured that the front and rear of the procession were the two points of chief interest to onlookers, and that in placing niellsen at the rear he would become a center of attention. and that was the thing to be desired, when jack should set about his appointed task.

tall warriors, black as ebony, some like the masai tribesmen who are the giants of africa, attaining a height of six feet seven or eight, crowded around. with their great hide shields and twelve foot spears, they presented a threatening appearance. but none attempted to lay hands on the members of the column as it proceeded through the village toward the chief’s hut. indeed, the threatening presence of the gun-bearing guard had a salutary effect. well enough did the warriors know the power of the white men’s guns. in fact, envious glances were cast at the bearers by warriors desiring to possess a gun more than anything else.

straight to the open space or central plaza of the village moved the party. then mr. hampton and mr. ransome halted, and a tall commanding figure of a man somewhat advanced in years but still erect came to meet them. this was chief namla. hobbling at his side, wrapped in a cotton blanket, moved a wizened figure with a face so old and wrinkled it was monkey-like.

chief namla halted some ten paces from the two white men, and the aged man-monkey beside him likewise came to a halt, staring at the strangers with beady bright eyes. the chief’s glance was cold and hostile, but that of the other, whom they took to be the tribal medicine man, contained a palpable if unspoken gleam of appeal which caused mr. hampton to start. what could the old medicine man have in mind?

it goes without saying that they had not invaded chief narnia’s village unprovided with an interpreter. but as this man stepped forward to speak, the two white men were dumbfounded to see the medicine man hold up a hand as if for silence. then from beneath his enfolding dirty robe of cotton came a strange rattle, and over the faces of chief namla and the warriors drawn up in a rude semi-circle behind him and facing the whites appeared an expression of awe.

“the spirits of chief narnia’s father speak and they tell the wizard mfum-ba to say that these white men come not as enemies but as friends. they bid chief namla to hearken to them,” he cried.

and once more, while the amazed interpreter hastily translated for the benefit of the two white men these words uttered in the native tongue by the old medicine man did the latter let that unmistakable appeal for help appear in his eyes. mr. hampton felt he could not be mistaken. and the old wizard’s words confirmed his impression. for whatever reason yet to be explained, the wizard mfum-ba wanted the white men on his side.

“i have it,” muttered mr. hampton quickly to his companion. “look at that old fellow. he wants us to help him out of a hole. the prophet is destroying his power amongst his own people, and naturally he hates the prophet. we must manage to gain word with him aside. he may be just the man for our purpose.”

mr. ransome nodded. then addressing chief namla in a firm voice, he said:

“o chief namla, the fame of your land has drawn my companion here that he may see its wonders and carry back with him to the land of the white man across the mighty ocean a picture of all that he beholds. he has with him a magic machine which when pointed at a man, an animal or a mountain while the magician sets it in motion takes the likeness of that man or animal or mountain so that others thousands of miles distant may see and behold the same thing that he sees and beholds. this is a great magic, yet it does not take away anything from the man or animal or mountain and does not harm them in any way. he prays that you will permit him and his magician to travel in your country and point this machine at whatever pleases him. in return he offers such valuable objects as are fitting for so mighty and powerful a ruler as chief namla.”

then, while the interpreter put this into the native dialect, mr. ransome bade the bearers to bring forward the trade goods to be offered the chief. bundle after bundle was opened and laid at the chief’s feet, consisting of many yards of gaudy cotton prints, bundles of brass stair rods, an entire box of fezzes both red and blue, a small set of dishes of gaudiest flowered pattern and, finally, topping the heap, a trade gun and box of cartridges.

not until the last appeared did chief namla who stood with folded arms, relax his frowning expression. then his eyes gleamed covetously, and for the first time he spoke.

“let the white strangers rest in the guest house,” he said. “i shall let them know presently what i decide.”

the interpreter hastened to repeat this but almost before he had concluded speaking the wrinkled old wizard interrupted with a gabble of words, while again from beneath his robe sounded that mysterious rattling.

“him say chief namla tell white men a’ right,” announced the interpreter hastily. then he added on his own account: “me think wizard no want. chief go talk somebody.”

“the prophet,” said mr. ransome emphatically, and mr. hampton nodded agreement. “you’re right, hampton. mfum-ba fears the influence of the prophet over the chief.”

nevertheless, that the chief intended to adhere to his resolve was soon apparent. for thrusting the old wizard aside impatiently, as if angered by his importunities, he indicated to some women who came running forward that the presents to him should be borne away, and then turned without more words and strode in the direction of a hut somewhat larger than the rest at one side of the square.

for the moment there was nothing to do except obey. and as the warriors melted away at a sharp command flung over chief narnia’s shoulder, mr. hampton and mr. ransome followed several women who approached and told the interpreter they were to lead the party to the guest house. this proved to be a commodious hut, entirely of grass, both walls and roof, standing on the right of the large hut into which the chief had disappeared and separated from it only by a narrow passage some eight feet in width.

the bearers squatted outside the hut, and the guards leaned against the wall, but the four white men of the party, for jack and niellsen had come forward to join the leaders, retired within for a consultation. the hut was clean and free from odors, and with a sigh they sank down on the small mushroom-like stools standing about and relaxed.

“nothing to do except wait, i suppose,” said mr. ransome finally, after the matter had been discussed from various angles. “but if chief namla doesn’t soon send for us, we shall have to take the next step. and that will be to summon him and inform him, as we planned, that we intend to invoke the white man’s great spirit to rout his evil counselor, the prophet. we shall have to speak without mincing matters, and carry it off with a high hand.”

“provided i can first find a way of fixing up the radio,” said jack. “and i believe that way already has been found. did you notice the chief disappear into the next hut?”

the others nodded.

“well, doesn’t it strike you that if he was going to consult the prophet, that gentleman is located inside there?”

“that’s right,” said mr. hampton.

“only a narrow eight-foot alleyway separates the two huts,” said jack. “suppose we placed the radio so that when samba speaks his piece the voice will seem to come from the prophet’s own hut? wouldn’t that be pretty effective?”

“it certainly would, jack,” said mr. ransome. “but how do you propose to do it?”

before jack could reply, there came an interruption from an unexpected quarter. the grass wall at the rear was parted, and between the bundles of thatch which closed again behind him entered none other than the wrinkled old medicine man calling himself the wizard mfum-ba. he looked from one to the other, then set his fingers to his lips, after which he spread out his hands as if in deprecation.

“i believe he wants the interpreter,” said jack, quickest to grasp the meaning of the gesture. and stepping to the doorway of the hut, he summoned the interpreter from the group outside. the old wizard’s face showed relief at the fellow’s appearance, and drawing him close he began to whisper to him. several times the interpreter started to speak, only to be interrupted, but at length with a nod of the head and a low-voiced assurance, he turned from the old medicine man to mr. ransome.

“him say much,” he declared. “too much me tell. but him mean prophet bad man, take away honor from mfum-ba so him be cast out by tribe unless him save face. him say he help white men kill prophet.”

“we don’t want to kill the prophet but to capture him,” said mr. hampton. “look here, you ask him if he’ll help us capture him and carry him away?”

when this was translated, mfum-ba shook his head in emphatic assurance. quite evidently he was willing to go any length to be rid of an obnoxious rival.