When he wakened, it was hard for Burt to realize where he was. He stared up at the thatched roof above him and gradually collected his thoughts. A shiver swept over him as he recollected what had occurred the preceding night. He sat up, and saw Critch still asleep beside him. It appeared to be broad daylight outside, and he roused his chum at once. Critch rolled over and sprang to his feet, then stood blinking around with so puzzled an expression that Burt went into a shout of laughter.

"What's the matter?" he gasped.

"I was dreaming that old Ta was having a scrap with me," confessed his chum sheepishly. "He threw the ankh at me and just then Pongo come along and jumped him. Both of 'em rolled over on me and I woke up."

"Say, was last night all a dream?" asked Burt, soberly, as he stared at his chum. "Or did we really put it over—"

"You bet we did!" cried Critch with a grin of recollection. "No dream about that, old man. We've only been here two days, but we've done a heap of things. Now we got to finish the lion. Then we can see about getting off."

"I'm not anxious to monkey with Pongo," stated Burt. "However, we might send out Mbopo to trail him. I'll take him over to the hut if you'll get some breakfast fixed up."

"I'm on," exclaimed Critch. Upon leaving the hut, the two boys found themselves objects of awed veneration from the pigmies. They met Mbopo, and Burt took him out to the sacred hut. Here he described the fight with Pongo in detail, not mentioning when it occurred and purposely leaving the dwarf rather confused. There could be no such doubt about the struggle itself, however, and Mbopo nodded understandingly.

They then left the ivory zareba while Mbopo made a cast around the place for the lion's trail. Burt accompanied him, and Mbopo soon uttered a shout of excitement. Running to his side, Burt saw the beaten spot in the tall grass where the lion must have alighted from his last leap over the ivory zareba after having been wounded. There was a speck or two of dried blood in evidence, and Mbopo found more blood farther on, as well as a clearly defined trail. The excited pigmy was for following it up at once, but Burt held him back. By dint of much patience he made Mbopo understand that Critch, whom the pigmies called "Mwanzi," or "Red-head," must accompany them, as well as some warriors. Burt had had one experience with a wounded lion and he intended to take no chances this time.

The two returned to the village where Mbopo shouted forth his news, and Burt was instantly the center of an excited mob. He pushed through them, however, and found Critch with breakfast ready. Over the meal they discussed the matter of the lion, and decided to start out at once.

"Mebbe they'll go without waitin' for us," suggested Burt, glancing at the chattering crowd of warriors around the young chief. Critch shook his head.

"Not much. They ain't got the nerve. They'll do whatever we tell 'em, but they won't leave us out o' the game, take it from me."

As soon as they had finished, the boys joined Mbopo. Their first object was a search for weapons. Critch suggested taking two of the spears, whose blades were over a foot long and keen as a razor, but Burt objected.

"We don't know how to use them," he said. "Let's see; didn't Cap'n Mac say something about trade-guns?"

"Mebbe he did," assented Critch, "but I haven't seen any sign of guns around here. Let's ask Mbopo."

They tried to make the young chief understand, but without success. Thereupon the boys took matters into their own hands, and began a search among the largest huts. This was presently rewarded by the finding of an old Snider, wrapped in tarpaulin. There were three cartridges in the magazine, but no more. These were displayed to Mbopo, but he stated that there were no more weapons of the kind in the village.

"Well, she seems to be in pretty fair shape," remarked Burt, squinting down the barrel of the rifle. "Get some palm oil, Critch. Three bullets ought to do."

"Don't catch me around when you fire that thing," sniffed his chum disgustedly. "She's liable to bust. I'll bet she's twenty years old."

"Better'n a spear at that," chuckled Burt, oiling the rifle until it worked perfectly. "We ain't so badly off, Critch. There, I guess that'll do. Ready?"

Critch armed himself with one of the spears, and at the head of twenty picked warriors they left the village. Mbopo led the way to the spoor already found, and Critch at once ordered the pigmy warriors to follow it up.

"Let 'em take the chances," he grinned. "They ain't scared now I'm along. If they find Pongo you can finish him with the gun—unless the gun finishes you."

"You're sore because you didn't find the gun yourself," retorted Burt. "Come on, they're quite a ways ahead."

The pigmies had started at once along the spoor of the lion, spreading out on either side and calling to one another continually. The boys followed more carefully with Mbopo. The spoor led them through the long rank grass into the forest, and was easy for the boys to read.

The lion had made only one leap after leaving the zareba. This had taken him almost across the grassy space. Upon reaching the first thicket he had crawled along and left a plain blood-marked trail for the hunters to follow. A hundred yards farther on they heard a shrill yell from ahead, and hurried on.

Emerging from the thicket, they found the pigmies clustered about a clump of thorn-bushes. These were almost impenetrable save by the trail left by the lion. The pigmies reported to Mbopo, who turned to Critch.

"Him Pongo in there," he stated, pointing to the bushes with a grin. "Mwanzi kill? Vera good!"

Critch hesitated. He glanced at the waiting pigmies, who evidently had not the slightest intention of robbing him of the honor of going first.

"Come on," he muttered to Burt. "We got to pull the bluff through right here. Have your gun ready."

Burt nodded. The two boys, their hearts beating fast, advanced to the edge of the thicket. No sound came from the bushes, and Burt thrust the first branches aside as he entered. The thorns made sad havoc with their clothes, but the boys were too anxious to heed this. A moment later Burt gave a startled exclamation. Critch came to his side, and the boys saw a tawny shape lying ahead of them.

"Is he dead?" whispered Critch.

"Can't see him plain enough," responded Burt. "If he jumps and I don't stop him, try to catch him on the spear."

A few steps farther on and the lion came into full view. He was lying on his side, stretched out, and something black hid his head. Burt levelled the gun, but as he did so the black object resolved itself into a swarm of flies, who buzzed up at the noise made by the boys.

"Hurray!" shouted Burt, flinging down the gun, "he's dead!"

"Look at the axe!" yelled his chum, pointing to the weapon that was almost buried in the skull of the beast. "Golly, you must have hit like fury! Hey, Mbopo!"

The pigmies were not far behind the boys, and at the shout they came dashing forward. A shrill yell went up as they saw the dead lion, then all remained silent and motionless, gazing down at the form of the beast which they had worshipped for so long. That he was blind could be easily made out, for the white scar ran across his eyes, which were not pleasant to see. Burt turned away with a shudder.

"Leave Mbopo to skin him, Critch. I'm goin' back where it's cool."

His chum nodded, directed Mbopo to skin the lion and followed Burt back to the shade of the hut. There the two boys settled down for a talk.

"We got nothing to worry over now," remarked Critch, "except the getting away. How'll we keep the skin of Pongo?"

"Let Mbopo do that," replied Burt. "They can fix it so it'll keep long enough to get down the river with anyhow." He suddenly sat up. "Say, building that raft is going to be some job! Let's have a look at the river."

"Come on," and Critch sprang to his feet. "If we do get off, Burt, let's take a collection o' these pigmy weapons. Wouldn't they be swell in our rooms at home?"

"Right now I'd take the rooms without anything at all in 'em," grinned Burt, who was fast recovering his spirits in the fresh morning air. A few moments later they reached the village, which stood on the river bank, and descended by a well-worn path to the edge of the stream.

"There's some big trees growin' handy," announced Critch. "How'll we make it?" Burt thought a moment.

"Why," he replied slowly, "take four big logs an' lash 'em in a square. Then put four on top o' them, with a platform. That ought to float pretty high even with a good load. Guess we'll have to make two rafts, though. We couldn't carry any men an' that ivory on one, 'less we made it almighty big."

"The river wouldn't stand for a very big one," suggested Critch. "Go an' get a bunch o' the men, Burt. We might as well pitch in right now."

Burt nodded and returned up the path, leaving Critch to inspect the trees growing at the edge of the river. He returned with a score of men, all of whom brought their little axes. They looked wonderingly at the two boys.

"Here's a good tree," declared Critch, pointing to one about two feet through. "We'll take an axe an' show 'em how to do it."

Shedding their upper garments, for the place was by no means cool, the boys fell to work on the tree. The pigmies comprehended at once, and also went to work on three other trees picked out by the boys. The latter, having started things satisfactorily, flung themselves down in the shade and directed operations.

When the first tree was about to fall, they showed the dwarfs how to make it fall toward the stream, so that it lay half in the water. There seemed to be no crocodiles in the river, the men splashing about without fear. Then Burt took a spear and measured a straight section of the trunk for three spear-lengths, or fifteen feet. While Critch saw that this was lopped and cut rightly, Burt visited the other workers.

All this, however, was not done in a few moments. The axes of the pigmies were keen, but they were also very small. No sooner had the work begun than the whole tribe came down from the village to look on with wondering interest, and Mbopo shortly after arrived also.

It was well into the afternoon before the four trees were down, and not until noon of the next day were they cut into the proper lengths and trimmed. Finally, however, the logs lay end to end in the shape of a square, in the shallow water. Burt now explained to Mbopo that these were to be fastened together. The young chief comprehended at once, and with strips of tough hides had the first part of the raft completed by nightfall.

The abundance of help lightened the work wonderfully, as the other warriors learned the work. They went at it like children, laughing and playing continually, until the two white boys wondered how they could ever have stood in fear of these pranking dwarfs who were so full of fun and laughter.

At the end of five days the first raft was finished to the satisfaction of the boys. Even when the platform was crowded with men it floated clear of the water, and with an ordinary load the platform would be at least a foot above the surface. The whole fabric was very strong, for the platform itself was formed of saplings which were lashed carefully, and no ordinary shock would break up the raft. A small bulwark was then run around the edges.

At the end of a week the second raft also lay completed, and now the boys had to face the somewhat difficult task of explaining their purpose to Mbopo. They took him over to the sacred hut, and Burt pointed to the ivory tusks, with gestures of uprooting them.

"Take him to Buburika Mac," he explained over and over. "You go along. Come back afterwards."

Mbopo looked doubtful as he grasped the idea that the tusks were to be loaded on the rafts. Finally, however, he nodded and the boys drew a breath of relief. That they would be obeyed now they had no fear at all, for the pigmies were their devoted slaves in every way, and stood in evident awe of the two boys and especially of "Mwanzi."

This belief was confirmed when Mbopo addressed the tribe in a great council that night. The pigmies made not the slightest opposition, and the boys could see by his gestures that he was describing their desires.

"All right," murmured Burt as the two short guttural barks ascended from the audience, "it's all over but the shouting, Critch. S'pose we can get the stuff loaded up to-morrow?"

"We ought to," replied his chum. "We'll have to see first. Those thorns are tangled up with the tusks somethin' fierce."

Next morning the entire tribe left the village and approached the sacred hut of Pongo. Under the direction of Mbopo, who took matters into his own hands now, the work of uprooting the ivory was begun. This was difficult, but by evening the last of the great tusks lay in the pile by the river edge. All that remained was to load them aboard the rafts. This, however, would be no easy matter, for the tusks were heavy and the balance of the rafts must be preserved.

Critch took charge of the loading, while Burt attended to getting provisions together for the journey. There was dried meat in abundance, and plenty of fresh vegetables and fruits. The boys had a long consultation over loading the ivory, for even with the protection of the dwarfs a raftload of tusks would be too much of an inducement for the tribes they were sure to meet.

At length it was settled by making a layer of tusks, of which there were thirty-nine in all, on the platforms. Fifteen of the tusks had been discarded by the boys as worthless. Over the layer of ivory was placed enough dirt to fill in the spaces and hold the tusks steady. A top layer of skins completed the whole.

The young chief made no objection to taking the journey on the rafts, for the boys held out "Buburika Mac" at the end of the trip as a bribe, and Mbopo could not resist. He selected six warriors for each raft; he and Burt took charge of one and Critch of the other. Poles were cut for the "deckhands," as Burt named the crews, and at length all was ready.