Montenay and the boys gave an exclamation of surprise and Captain Mac leaped to his feet with excited questions. Mr. Wallace, however, replied nothing. Burt had never seen his uncle really angry before and now he realized why this man was respected all over the world. The strong face was more hawk-like than ever. Between the down-drawn brows were too deep furrows, the thin mouth was set grimly, and the piercing eyes were aflame with anger. Even Montenay quieted down suddenly when he saw Mr. Wallace's face.

John very respectfully brought up a group of a dozen blacks who stood in fear and trembling as the loss of the compass was made known to them. Falling on their faces one and all denied any share in the theft.

"John, call the headman." When the latter appeared, fully as frightened as his men, Mr. Wallace turned to him. "You see these men?" The explorer spoke so rapidly that Burt could not gather more than a few scattered words of French, but what he heard made him spring up with a cry of protest.

"Sit down!" His uncle whirled on him savagely and Montenay nodded approval. The headman turned an ashy gray and bobbed his head against Mr. Wallace's boots while a howl of fear went up from the black boys, who returned to their companions, accompanied by John with a rifle.

"What'd he say?" whispered Critch anxiously. Mr. Wallace heard the words.

"I gave 'em ten minutes to produce that compass," he said quietly. "If they didn't do it by then I told 'em I'd bury those boys up to their necks in the swamp down yonder and leave 'em."

"What!" Critch was on his feet instantly. "Why—why—you—"

"Sit down, lad!" Captain Mac laughed and pulled him back. "It's only a bluff. Don't fash yerself over it."

"Was that all?" demanded Burt eagerly and his uncle nodded without a smile, to his intense relief.

"I'll be walkin' over yonder," declared Montenay rising. "I'll chat with 'em in their own tongue a bit, Wallace. It may do good."

For five minutes not a word was spoken. Mr. Wallace stared into the fire while the boys looked alternately at him and at the fires of the blacks, fifty yards away. Then Captain Mac strode up and with a word tossed the gleaming silver-mounted instrument into Mr. Wallace's lap.

"She's broke," he said shortly. The American calmly examined the compass, as did the boys. The glass was shattered as if a stone had smashed it, while the needle no longer swung on its pivot.

"Who had it?" asked Burt's uncle.

"Mgoro, the hunter." Captain Mac spoke quite as a matter of course and Mr. Wallace's anger seemed to have vanished suddenly. "He said he found it just outside the camp and that it was already broke. I discharged him and told him to go back in the mornin' without his wages. He's lyin', o' course."

"Of course," agreed Mr. Wallace musingly. With this the subject was closed. In the morning Mgoro was sent on the back trail in disgrace, although he still his innocence. For two days more the camp remained in the same place. Then the buffalo skin was pared down and packed and a dozen porters were sent back to Makupa with the specimens. Mr. Wallace had already arranged with the Belgian there to send them on down to Boma.

The only compass now in the party was that belonging to Montenay, who guided them. Usually Captain Mac and Burt went ahead to the right while Mr. Wallace and Critch went to the left, each party taking a number of hunters and gun bearers. Owing to their lack of compasses it was not possible to wander very far from the caravan. Every morning Captain Mac and the headman Moboro mapped out the day's march and at noon and at dark the two parties returned to the caravan.

For several days they did little shooting of any importance. Each party brought in two or three food-animals for the porters, and jackals were of course shot on sight. On the third day after leaving their "Specimen Camp," as Burt named their halting place, came their first adventure.

They are getting well into the lion country by this time and each camp was made as small as possible with plenty of fires around it. As Burt and Captain Mac returned to camp at noon of the third day they found the Bantus in high excitement and were greeted with the news that two lions had been sighted in a dense thicket just ahead. Mr. Wallace and Critch soon came in and all four went toward the thicket while a number of Bantus armed with spears and shields went around to drive out the animals.

This was done by the simple means of setting fire to the dense clump of bushes. The party took up their position near an ant hill. With them were the gun-bearers and a dozen Bantu hunters. When the thicket was fired a dense cloud of smoke hid the nearer edge. Almost at once a tremendous roar was heard. The Bantus replied with a yell of defiance.

As they did so a great tawny shape flew out of the cloud of smoke and struck down a hunter. Mr. Wallace fired instantly and the lion whirled about and came for the party. The Bantus flung their spears, but the beast dashed them aside and not even the heavy, jacketed bullets stopped him. When he was ten yards away and crouching for his last bound the gun-bearers broke.

"I've got him," announced Captain Mac quietly. As the lion sprang he fired and the beast rolled over, clawing at the grass. At the same instant the lioness bounded out of the smoke.

Critch broke her foreleg with his first bullet and his second brought her to the earth. She rolled over, then gave another spring. Burt followed Montenay's example and fired just as the beast left the ground. This time she stumbled heavily and lay still, for the bullet had found her brain.

The combat had been short but hot. The Bantus brought up their wounded comrade for attention. He had been badly clawed in the arms and shoulders but his shield had saved him from fatal wounds, and Mr. Wallace soon had him fixed up. The Bantus were hugely delighted over the success of the hunt. They danced about the bodies with waving spears and shields while Burt took some good pictures. Then the skinning began.

When the skins had been safely packed the caravan again moved forward, and two days later they came to a native village. When he heard the name of the place Mr. Wallace looked somewhat surprised, then consulted a map which he had procured at Boma. He folded it up without a word, however, and they entered the town.

"We're in the elephant country at last," announced Montenay that night. "These fellows say that there is a small herd off to the east two miles. Suppose we go over to-morrow."

"To the east?" repeated Mr. Wallace. "Aren't we rather working away from our bearings? However, no matter. I'm after ivory and not particular where I find it. We'll go to-morrow."

Burt was just a little puzzled at his uncle's attitude. He said nothing definite, but the boy in some way got the idea that he was watching Captain Mac. At first Burt put aside the thought. Then he resented it, for he had a strong liking for the eccentric Scotchman. Finally he resolved to wait and see what turned up.

That night his suspicions were confirmed. He and Critch slept together in one of the small tents and as they arranged the mosquito nets for the night Howard paused.

"Say, did you notice anything funny about Cap'n Mac lately?"

"No," replied Burt. "Uncle George is acting kind of funny, though."

"You bet he is," nodded Critch. "He's just about got the goods on Cap'n Mac, too!"

"What!" Burt stared at his chum eagerly. "I knew it! Spit it out, old sport."

"It's that compass business. Anyway, that got your uncle going. When we was ridin' after that hartebeest to-day he comes out with it. This here place ain't on our line o' march at all. We're 'way east of where we ought to be!"

"East!" repeated Burt. "What's that got to do with Cap'n Mac?" He was still ready to stand up for his friend, though Howard's confident air sorely shook his faith.

"Like this. Your uncle says Montenay's been leadin' us wrong. He don't know what for and he's waiting to find out. B'lieve me, I'd hate to be Cap'n Mac when he does find out! Golly, he was mad to-day!"

"Does he think Cap'n Mac swiped our compasses?"

"You bet! Thinks that business with Mgoro was a put-up job, too. When we were out to-day we found a young eland lying dead. It had two o' the blamedest arrows in it you ever seen. Here's the head o' one."

Critch produced a little bundle of skin from his pocket and very carefully unwrapped it. He laid a long many-barbed iron point in Burt's hand.

"Watch out for it. That black stuff's poison, your uncle says. It's a pigmy arrow."

"What's a pigmy arrow?" asked Burt. "Oh, you mean—" he stared at Critch, who nodded.

"That's what. We're over east near the pigmy country, 'stead of being up in the higher country where we ought to be. We'll be in the jungle in another day, your uncle says."

"What's he going to do about it?" asked Burt. "Here, take this blamed thing back." And he very gingerly deposited the arrow-point in the bit of skin.

"Nothing," replied Critch. "He says to lay low and keep your eye peeled. He ain't going very far into the jungle either."

Whether Montenay noticed anything in their attitude the next morning or not, he was as gay as ever when they started out after their first elephant. In fact, he had never appeared more open, frank and merry than he did this morning and Burt found himself involuntarily siding against his uncle.

They were accompanied by a large force of trackers from the town. After a stiff two-mile walk into the deep forest toward the denser jungle one of these trackers returned with word that a herd was not far ahead. Soon afterwards the party came upon the spoor. In low places the tracks were big holes three feet in depth. They were always marked by shattered and broken smaller trees and torn branches.

Suddenly an elephant trumpeted close by and the boys jumped. Now they stole along quietly in single file, while they could hear the great beasts feeding and crashing among the trees not a hundred yards away. The party moved noiselessly in the tracks of the elephants, for their great weight had left no sticks or leaves to crack. Birds flew up in flocks and monkeys chattered all around. Then as the trail twisted about the boys saw their first wild elephant—a good deal closer than they could have wished.

Without the least warning the bushes and mass of tangled creepers at their left parted with a tremendous crashing and a big bull surged out twenty feet away. He was as much surprised as they and stood looking while the blacks fled. Mr. Wallace and Captain Mac fired almost together, one bullet taking him in the shoulder and the other just above the eye. Neither wound was fatal but for an instant the great beast was stunned by the shock and stood reeling. Then as he lifted his trunk, flapped his ears forward with his great in-curving tusks half raised and took a step toward the party, both men fired again and the immense bulk quivered and crashed down dead.

The blacks raised a shout of joy but only for an instant. At the sudden firing shrill trumpeting and crashing had gone up from the herd in front, and another bull appeared in the path in full charge. Trees, matted creepers and bushes went down before him and for an instant the little group stood paralyzed with the sudden danger. Then Burt raised his rifle and fired. His bullet was wildly aimed but proved lucky, for it struck the elephant in the eye and penetrated the brain. He staggered forward another step and then rolled over just as the others fired.

"Good for you!" cried Mr. Wallace. He gripped Burt's hand and shook it heartily, as did Captain Mac. Critch pounded his chum on the back in an ecstasy of delight. The herd had crashed away and was gone, and as one of the bearers was carrying the camera, Burt and Critch got some views of the dead elephants, after which the hunters took out their knives.

The hides were disregarded as not worth the effort of preparing. The tusks were cut out and the feet were taken off to be served up by John as the most delicate of jungle dishes. Then the local blacks fell to work and cut up the rest of the carcasses for home consumption. It was about noon, so Mr. Wallace decided that they would return to their camp and follow the herd another day.

"This is good country," he said as they walked along. "Between hunting and trading we ought to get a nice lot of ivory together pretty soon. I think I'll make a permanent camp just outside the town and not go in any farther, Montenay."

Captain Mac merely nodded. He remained very silent, however, on the return trip. When they got home the tusks were weighed and it was found that the smaller bull, the first to appear, carried one hundred and ten pounds of ivory.

The larger, which Burt had killed, was a good deal older and his tusks weighed twenty pounds more.

"That's big ivory, lad," said Montenay as they sat down to their postponed lunch in the afternoon. "It ain't often ye'll get beasts carryin' more'n a hundred thirty. 'Cept, o' course, some old chap who's wandered off by himself an' kept the blacks too scared to be huntin' him. I mind once I dropped just such an old bull down south an' got a hundred seventy—nigh to bein' a record."

"It was a mighty lucky shot," laughed Burt. "I just threw her up an' let go 'cause I was too scared to aim. Goin' out to-morrow?"

"Since ye're goin' to camp here permanent," returned Captain Mac, addressing Mr. Wallace, "I'm thinkin' I'll be takin' a little hike into the woods. I'll take a score o' the boys an' be back in a week."

"No, you won't." Without the least trace of excitement in his voice Mr. Wallace whipped out his revolver and covered the other. "Keep your hands on the table, Montenay! Burt, remove the captain's gun."