“HOW was that for timing it to a dot?” laughed Bob, after the express driver had left.

“Couldn’t have been better,” said Joe. “Boy! Am I glad that stuff got here!”

Bob placed the big box in the Holton car, and then all made ready for the drive to the railroad station.

They reached their destination with fifteen minutes to spare and at once set about having the baggage sent up to the tracks.

The leavetaking was painful to all, for it was as hard for the four explorers to go as it was for those staying at home to give them up. But finally, with last warm farewells, the youths and their fathers left for the tracks.

“Bring me a lion cub!” called Tommy, Bob’s small brother, shouting to make himself heard.

“I might surprise you, Tom, old man,” Bob shouted back, laughing in spite of himself at his brother’s remark.

With one last wave, the youths and their fathers headed for the tracks, where the Baltimore express was waiting. Red-capped porters brought their baggage up in the rear and placed it on the train. Then the adventurers themselves boarded.

Before long, with a clanging of bells the express puffed out of the station and steamed in the direction of Baltimore. At last the long journey had begun.

For some time both Bob and Joe were silent, watching the country as it whizzed past them. Then, almost before knowing it, they pulled into Baltimore.

Mr. Lewis hailed a taxi, and they were whirled through the busy streets to the docks, where, at some point, their steamer, the Zanzibar, was anchored.

“What do you think of her, boys?”

It was Mr. Holton’s voice as a little later the four explorers found themselves peering ahead at the ship on which they were to embark.

“I hardly know,” returned Bob, who was somewhat disappointed at sight of the vessel. “Suppose you answer that question, Dad, Mr. Lewis.”

“I’m afraid we’re a bit stung,” muttered his father, gazing at the Zanzibar.

The steamer was far from modern in appearance; its sides were beginning to look rusty, and the cabin was badly lacking in paint. About two hundred feet long, it looked as though it had seen many years’ service.

“Will that take us all the way to Africa?” demanded Joe, who was almost at the point of anger.

“We’ll probably get there,” returned his father. “But how!”

“Why didn’t you pick a better boat?” asked Bob. “The passage wouldn’t have cost any more, would it?”

“This happened to be the only one sailing soon,” was the answer from Mr. Lewis. “I took for granted that it would be satisfactory.”

They went up the gangplank, having resolved to make the best of a bad matter.

“Anyway,” said Bob, “it’s far better than not going at all.”

The vessel was not to lift anchor until late that afternoon, and so the youths had some time to walk about the docks.

“Whatever you do, get back here in time,” warned Mr. Lewis, as the chums left down the gangplank. “It would be a terrible thing to be left behind.”

“We’ll be there,” returned Bob.

He and Joe spent some time in looking around. They saw many strange and interesting people and things at the waterfront, and would have liked to stay longer. But at one o’clock they decided to take no chances and boarded the Zanzibar, although it was still several hours before sailing time.

The youths were shown to their stateroom, which went somewhat beyond their expectations, it being large and well appointed.

“Maybe this old boat doesn’t look very well on the outside, but she’s O.K. inside,” remarked Bob, as he left with his chum for the outer deck. “Couldn’t ask for much better.”

On deck the two found their fathers eagerly waiting for the ship to move out to sea. The men were becoming more restless with every passing minute.

Then at last the longed-for moment came. A cry of “All ashore!” A chugging of tugs. A mad scramble of visitors down the gangplank. Then, with a clanging of bells and a groaning of hawsers, the Zanzibar began to move away from the dock.

“We’re off!” exclaimed Joe Lewis, waving mechanically at the crowd of people who were there to see the steamer leave.

Slowly the vessel threaded her way through the heavy water traffic. It steamed out through the Patapsco River and then at last turned into Chesapeake Bay.

Bob and Joe remained on deck with their fathers for some time, noting everything worthwhile that was visible about them. Finally Bob turned to his friend.

“Suppose we go below,” he suggested. “I’d like to take a look at the ship.”

The boys spent the remainder of the day in exploring the Zanzibar and were greatly interested in everything they saw. But they knew at once that the ship had been in service for many years.

The ocean voyage was not novel to them, but, nevertheless, they enjoyed it immensely. The days passed pleasantly enough, the chums seeking amusement by swimming in the ship’s pool, playing various deck games, and reading in the library.

One morning they were leaning on the rail, watching the rolling of the waves, when a high-pitched voice roused them. Looking around, they saw a tall, very slim young man of perhaps twenty, with light wavy hair and an unusually light complexion. His features were very delicate, and his voice very much resembled that of a lady.

“I say there,” he greeted, extending a shapely white hand. “Really marvelous weather we’re having, don’t you think?”

“Why—yes,” returned Bob, after a moment of hesitation. “Yes, the weather’s swell so far. I sure hope we don’t run into a tropical storm.”

“A what?” The slender young man turned a shade paler. “Did you say storm?”

“Yes,” returned Bob, inwardly amused. “I heard the captain talking this morning. He seemed to think there’s a chance of striking a hurricane.”

“Goodness gracious!” cried the strange young man. “That would simply be horrible. Could there not be something done about it?”

“Well—” Bob hesitated—“I don’t know of anything. Just have to go through it, I suppose. But perhaps after all there won’t anything happen. I’d like to to reach port under a clear sky.”

“And so would I, my dear chap. Are you seeking pleasure by traveling?”

“To a certain extent we are,” Bob answered him. “My chum here and myself are with our dads to collect specimens of animal life and photograph the country,” he explained. “Holton is my name—Bob Holton. This is Joe Lewis.”

“Most delighted to know you,” said the white-faced youth. “Cecil Purl Stone is my name. A real pleasure to know you. I’m—traveling just for the fun of it,” he said with a foolish little laugh. “I do consider travel as one of the most gorgeous ways of enlightening oneself. It is—so very amusing,” and he laughed again, this time even more girlishly.

“Yes, it is,” said Joe, keeping back a smile. “But the fact is, Bob and I won’t have much time for travel in the true sense of the word. We’ll be too busy hunting and photographing.”

“Hunting? Gracious sakes! Don’t tell me you are permitted to carry firearms!”

Bob and Joe smiled instinctively.

“Hunting is great sport,” said the latter. “But we never kill anything just for the pleasure of killing it. We have a good reason whenever we shoot an animal.”

“Ugh!” exclaimed Cecil with a shudder. “I never could bear the thought of a gun. Believe me, they certainly give me a creepy feeling. Once I went with Mamma to India. We intended to travel through a part of the country that was a little—dangerous, but when they told us we had better carry firearms I revolted right then and there. The very thought of such a horrible thing made the cold chills creep down my back.”

“But there isn’t anything bad about a rifle,” Joe told him. “That is, if you know how to use it. My friend and I may find our guns very useful when we get among such animals as gorillas.”

“Gorillas! A beastly word. But don’t inform me you are going to search for such terrible things!”

“Well, not exactly,” answered Bob. “But if any come our way we’ll probably bring a few down for specimens. And we’ll also be on the lookout for other dangerous game. Lions and leopards, for instance.”

“Gracious!” Cecil Stone’s mouth was wide open. “And you expect to return from that horrible country alive?”

“We hope to,” returned Joe with a smile. “And you—what do you intend to do in Africa?”

Cecil Purl removed a bright blue comb from its case. He fixed his hair very carefully before he again spoke.

“We wish to visit the cities,” he told them, “and mingle with the socially prominent people. It will be most enlightening, believe me. We hope to be invited very often to tea. Perhaps——”

“Cecil! Come with Mamma now. You must dress for dinnah.”

“Fer gosh sakes” murmured Bob, under his breath.

A very tall, smiling woman was beckoning to the young man, who obeyed her without delay.

“Really, I’m most charmed to have met you chaps,” he said, turning to leave. “I sincerely trust that we may meet again soon.”

With this he walked lightly down the deck with the woman.

Bob and Joe watched the pair closely until they closed the cabin door behind them. Then the youths burst into laughter which lasted for well over a minute.

“For the love of Mike!” cried Bob, as soon as he could get his breath. “Talk about sissies. That fellow’s at the very top of the list.”

“‘Mamma’ sure has him under her thumb, all right,” grinned Joe. “It’s a wonder she doesn’t put dresses on him. But come on, Bob. It’s about time for dinner to be served. Unless I miss my guess, Cecil won’t last very long at the table. Boat’s been rolling lately, you know.”

The chums went to their stateroom to wash and comb. Then, accompanied by their fathers, they went up to the dining saloon.

The food tasted good, both youths eating heartily. Evidently they were now seasoned sailors, for neither felt the slightest signs of seasickness.

But with someone else, seated near them at another table, it was entirely a different matter. For Cecil Stone’s face was beginning to turn a sickly yellow, and with each bite of food he was visibly becoming more affected.

“Dear me!” the chums heard him say. “I really can’t take another bite of that beastly salad.”

“Perhaps you would feel bettah if you would go to your suite, Cecil darling. Appahantly you aren’t feeling well today.”

“There he goes,” whispered Bob, his eyes following the tall, stooping figure. “He can’t take it.”