The trip was begun very much as Mr. Wallace had outlined. The news spread rapidly that Burt and Howard were going to Africa, and when the two boys arrived at the station early Monday morning a good-sized crowd of friends was present to see them off.

"Take good care of yourself," cautioned Mrs. St. John as she kissed her son good-bye. "Don't be afraid to telegraph us!"

The train pulled out with a last cheer from the frat fellows, and Burt and Howard realized that they were actually off. They arrived in New York at noon and Mr. Wallace took them direct to the Explorers' Club for luncheon.

Here they first began to feel in touch with the outside world. The club was an institution composed of explorers, hunters and wanderers in foreign lands. Its walls were decorated with game heads, arms and armor of many savage tribes, while in glass cases were hung odd costumes and headgear and unique relics and curios. At the dining-room tables the boys saw bronzed and bearded men who nodded to Mr. Wallace like old friends or spoke to him in strange tongues.

"You fellows wait for me in the library," said the explorer as they finished luncheon. "I guess you'll find plenty to amuse you there. We'll stop here for to-night. I'm going down to send off some cables now and get part of our outfit ordered ahead. When I come back we'll go out and see the town a little."

"Did you get rooms on the steamer?" asked Critch.

"Wired last night. The answer will be down here at the office but there's not much doubt about getting them. See you in the library."

The boys made themselves at home in the library and in half an hour Mr. Wallace returned with the stateroom slips. Then they took a taxi and made a few purchases for the voyage. As there was nothing to be obtained except some clean linen and a steamer rug each, they spent most of the afternoon "seeing" New York City.

The evening spent at the club was a wonderful one to the boys. On talking it over later they found that they had only a confused memory of meeting several famous men and of hearing some surprising stories.

"Critch!" whispered Burt as they lay in bed. "'Member that thin fellow with the scar on his chin? S'pose his yarn was true!"

"What? About being tortured by New Guinea cannibals?" returned his chum. "Prob'ly. That sure was a whopper though that the man with the black beard told! The one that'd been in China, I mean."

"Said he had photos of the Forbidden City, didn't he?" asked Burt. "Gee! That story of his about the joss with the emerald eyes and the ropes of pearls—"

So it went until long past midnight when the boys finally fell asleep. They were up early and after breakfast took a taxi again and went on board the Carmania, which was to sail at ten.

The voyage was uneventful to Mr. Wallace but proved of tremendous novelty to the boys. By the time they reached Liverpool Burt felt like new. His color was returning fast and the sea air had filled out his lungs once more and put him into prime condition. The question of their outfit was what puzzled the boys most until they put it up to Mr. Wallace.

"Oh, we'll get all that in London," he explained. "I cabled ahead so that most of it will be ready. You see, boys, these outfitters put up boxes of food in regular amounts for each day. All I have to do is to tell 'em how long we'll be gone and how many of us there are. They pack a box—chop-boxes, they're called—holding enough for so many days. According to custom the blacks only expect to carry sixty pounds, so these boxes are made up at that weight. All are of tin, hermetically sealed. Some firms use colored bands to distinguish the boxes but ours numbers each box and furnishes us with lists of what they contain."

"Some system, isn't it!" exclaimed Critch admiringly. "Do we have to carry everything with us? Must be an awful freight bill!"

"Can't go to Africa for nothing," laughed Mr. Wallace. "Yes, we'll get most of that stuff here. We could get it at Boma but I'd sooner depend on the English firm."

"Wish we could stay longer in London," sighed Burt. "I hate to rush off without seeing anything of the city."

"Well, our boat leaves Tuesday afternoon and this is Friday," replied his uncle. "Our chop-boxes are already on board, I suppose. Our trunks—tin-lined by the way—will probably go down Monday night if we get our stuff Saturday. I'd like to spend a week in London myself but if we're to be back home by November we haven't much time to waste."

The Liverpool customs did not delay them long as they had only a suit case each, and they took the night express for London. The boys were much surprised and not a little dismayed when they entered the English compartment cars, so different from the coaches they were used to. They soon found that it was much nicer to travel by themselves, however, as Mr. Wallace interviewed the guard and provided against intrusion. In the morning they awoke to find themselves in London.

Mr. Wallace took them to the famous Carleton House for breakfast, now entirely rebuilt after its fire of the year before. When they had finished, all three went to the writing room.

"Take out your pencils now," said the explorer, "and get busy. I know just about what I want to take and a list ready-made will save a lot of time in the shops. Ready?"

The two boys were not only ready but anxious. The lists that they wrote out were identical. Here is that of their personal effects and clothes as Burt made it out.

Four suits underwear, Indian gauze.
Two ditto, woolen.
Two heavy gabardine shooting suits.
Two flannel shirts, khaki cartridge pockets.
Two pair high boots. One pair of soft leather.
Extra thick leggings, two pairs.
Camelshair poncho blanket, convertible.
Kid-lined gloves, two pairs.
Sleeping bag, waterproof.
Wool socks and pajamas.
Two khaki helmets.
Mosquito net for head and body.
Cholera belt, flannel.
Zeiss field glasses.
Large colored silk handkerchiefs, six.
Compass. Toilet articles.

"There," exclaimed Mr. Wallace as he ran over Burt's list, "that looks pretty good to me. You won't need the wool underwear unless you get prickly heat. The leggings are the most important. If you get scratched up by spear-grass and thorns and then step into some swamp-pool it's all off. You'd get craw-craw sure."

"What's that?" asked Critch. "Sounds like crow!"

"It's a skin disease," replied Mr. Wallace. "Something frightful, too. The poncho will serve for blanket and raincoat, but this is the dry season. Must have the mosquito net, though. When we get up the Aruwimi we'll find little bees about as big as gnats but a whole lot worse, and it'll need thick nets to keep 'em out. New for the armament."

Burt's "armory" consisted of the following weapons:

Double-barreled Holland .450 cordite rifle, for close quarters.
Winchester .405 rifle for general use.
Twenty-gauge Parker shotgun.
Eight-inch skinning knife.

"Ain't we going to take revolvers?" asked Burt disappointedly as his uncle finished.

"No," replied the latter. "They're of no use whatever. I'll take mine from force of habit but you chaps will never need one. Oh, the ammunition! Put down a hundred solid and a hundred soft-nosed cartridges for the Hollands; for the Winchesters two hundred of each, and six boxes of shells. That'll be enough to last us double the time."

"How 'bout a camera?" asked Critch anxiously. "Will we be able to tote one along?"

"Surest thing you know!" replied Mr. Wallace. "We'll take one of those new moving-picture machines. They're no larger than a camera and you can take motion pictures or straight shots on the reel."

"Gee! That'll be great!" cried Burt delightedly. "But won't the heat spoil the reels? An' don't they cost like fury?"

"The reels will be hermetically sealed before and after using," explained his uncle. "Needn't worry 'bout them. The whole outfit only costs twelve or thirteen pounds—say sixty dollars. It's well worth it, too. Now for the tents. We're going to travel light as possible, so put down two double-roofed ridge tents twelve by ten, with ground-sheets. Three cots without mattresses. You'll have to do without them or pillows—they're a beastly nuisance to pack along. Canvas bath each and condensing outfit to supply fresh water."

"Why's that, uncle?" asked Burt in surprise. "Lots of fresh water, ain't there?"

"Lots," smiled his uncle, "and lots o' guinea worms, fever germs, poisons and other things in it. Better add a four-quart canteen, glass stoppers, to your personal list. Can't take any cork or the roaches'll eat it. Two blankets for each person, and six towels. I guess that's all we need put down now, boys."

"Hold on there!" cried practical Critch abruptly. "How 'bout eatin' utensils and fryin' pans, medicine, can openers and all them things?"

"All arranged for," laughed Mr. Wallace. "The cooking part of it will be up to John Quincy Adams Washington."

"John—who?" stammered Burt. "Say it again, please!"

For answer Mr. Wallace pressed a button and a footman appeared.

"Send the manager here at once, please." The man bowed and withdrew and while the boys were still staring at the explorer in wonder a dapper little man appeared bowing.

"Mr. Wallace? Glad to see you looking so well, sir! What can I do for you?"

"I want that fellow Washington," smiled the explorer. "Can you let me have him for say three months? I'm going down to Africa and he'll have to go along."

"Certainly! I'll send him right up, sir." The manager vanished with another bow and Mr. Wallace turned to the boys.

"Washington—or John rather—is a Liberia boy I picked up five years ago. He's the best cook on earth! He's been in China and South America with me and whenever I don't need him he has a steady jo as fifth chef here. Ah, here he is!"

An immense black man appeared, wearing a grin that almost hid his face, as Burt expressed it. He stepped up and caught the explorer's hand, not shaking it but pressing it to his forehead as he spoke.

"Glad to see you, sar! What for you want John now?"

"Africa, John. This is my nephew, Mr. St. John, and my friend, Mr. Critchfield, who will go along. We leave for the Congo Tuesday."

"Pleased to meet you, sar!" The grinning black pressed the hands of Burt and Howard to his forehead in turn. "What boat we leave, sar?"

"The Benguela. African Steamship Company docks."

"Hit's Liverpool boat, sar! What time hit leave London docks?"

"Three o'clock, John. Here's a hundred pounds." Mr. Wallace peeled off five twenty-pound bank notes and handed them to the negro; "that ought to buy your outfit, eh?"

"By hall means, sar! Thank you. Hi'll 'ave most helegant brass pots, sar!"

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Burt as the cook withdrew. "You hand out bank notes as if you're made o' money! S'pose the coon'll ever show up with all that wad on him?"

"Show up?" repeated Mr. Wallace. "Why, I'd turn over my bill book to him and never count it when he gave it back! He's a blamed sight more honest than most white men you'll meet down there. And nerve! He carried me five miles on his back once, in northern China, stopping occasionally to fight off a bunch of bandits. That's the kind of man John is."

"Funny accent he's got," said Critch. "I thought all coons talked like they do down south."

"You'll get over that pretty quick!" laughed the explorer heartily. "John can use West Coast, cockney, Spanish and half a dozen other accents accordin' to whom he's been mixing up with latest. When we strike the Congo he'll probably fall into French. Well, let's trot along to Piccadilly and get measured. It's gettin' on toward noon."