TO THE RESCUE!
The next morning before dawn had penetrated the jungle, Dick awoke from
a troubled sleep with a voice sounding in his ears.
"Arise my son! Now is the time to set forth."
Springing from his bed of leafy branches and soft skins, Dick saw his
faithful Kurt pacing back and forth near by, while Kurul, stretched
under a mango tree, was snoring heavily.
The two devoted tribesmen had guarded him, taking shifts through the
night. Near his resting place Ray and Dan were still sound asleep,
exhausted by the excitement of the night before.
Dick paused a moment to look at the sleeping girl, whose flushed cheeks
and dark tumbled hair made a pretty picture, but again the voice was in
his ears, and he recognized it as the Mahatma's.
"Take the horses and set out to find your father. Now is the time."
Dick could not see the Hindu. A few drowsy natives were stirring about
the camp, but the wise man had sought a hiding place in some hut. Yet
the Boy King knew that his adviser was guiding him by sending his
message as before, and he hurried to get his force together.
Snatching a hasty bite as he moved about, Dick made up a party of
picked men. First he selected Kurt, Kurul and Raal, dependable
fighters; then Mutaba, for his knowledge of the jungle, and then a
number of first class warriors from the Gorols and Taharans, as many as
there were horses to mount.
Mutaba seemed to require no explanation. It seemed as though the
Mahatma had told him where to go and what to do.
In a few minutes the party set out, with Ray and Dan following in the
rear, rubbing their eyes sleepily. Veena rode with them, looking very
fresh and happy. Since Raal had won her heart by rescuing her, the
little savage girl was no longer jealous of Ray and wanted to be her
friend.
As for the Mahatma, he stayed in the camp, promising to guide them from
his resting place.
The trail of the fleeing Arabs was not hard to follow, as there were
plenty of hoof prints in the soft earth of the forest, and the
undergrowth gave them no chance to stray from the narrow path.
Yet Dick saw how wise had been the Mahatma's advice to make no attempt
to follow in the previous night's darkness. The way was crooked as a
snake's trail and passed on narrow strips of hard ground between
treacherous swamps, while sometimes a fallen tree was the only bridge
across a sluggish stream.
The mist hung heavy over the forest, so that the depths were veiled in
gray shadow and the sun could not penetrate the low-hanging fog, though
it soon warmed it until it resembled the steam room of a Turkish bath.
"Glory be!" exclaimed Dan, yawning and mopping his wet brow. "This is
a terrible place to be lost. I'd rather be back on the desert. There
you can see where you are going, at any rate!"
"Don't make a noise," cautioned Ray. "We don't know what enemies may
be lurking about."
"That's a fact. Mobogoma and his blacks may be behind any of those
trees, waiting to shoot us full of arrows and make us look like a
pincushion."
"Yes. Or the Arabs may be close by. And that terrible Jess Slythe."
"I hope he is!" Dan exclaimed. "I'd like to get my hands on that
fellow."
"Don't, Dan! It makes me shudder to think of it. He wouldn't think
twice about killing you in cold blood."
"I'm not scared of him!" boasted Dan, who always liked to show off a
little before his sister. "If I could meet him in a fair fight, I'd
soon show you who is the better man."
He was interrupted by the sound of a distant drum. The noise came from
some native camp, that might be miles away and the message it tapped
out in code seemed to convey a lugubrious warning.
"Gosh, that's enough to make a fellow want to creep in and hide,"
muttered Dan. "Suppose it is a signal for some war party to attack us!"
"It does scare a person," Ray admitted. "Here in the jungle everything
is so terrifying and the drums get on my nerves."
Dick was far in advance at the head of the party with Mutaba.
"What do you make of that drum?" he asked.
The guide shook his black head and grinned.
"Is it a war drum?"
"No, Bwana Dick."
"Is it a warning from Chief Mobogoma to some other tribe?"
"No, Bwana Dick. Pay no attention to that drum."
"Tell me. If we are in danger I've got to know about it."
"I tell you, Master," said Mutaba. "The black fellows have drums for
war. They have drums for other things, too. This drum tells a man's
wife, 'I am on Snake Island, hunting with my friends and we killed much
meat."
"Is that all?"
"No. Listen, now it says more. It says, 'I ate so much last night
that I am too heavy to walk. I won't come back until tomorrow night.'"
Dick laughed. "That's like a 'phone call from the office. What does
the man's wife say?"
"Nothing." Mutaba grinned. "Wait until he get home. Then she say
plenty!"
"I guess it's the same the whole world over," smiled Dick. "Say, this
is fine! The fog is lifting. And look, we are getting out of the
forest."
Mutaba cautioned for silence and, dismounting, ran ahead to see what
was before them, while Dan halted the column.
He awaited anxiously until the guide returned and explained in
awe-struck tones:
"Ahead of us is a wide clearing on high ground. A great bird is there
with broken wings. It is terrible magic."
"Are the Arabs there? And did you see Jess Slythe?"
"Yes, Bwana Dick. Slythe is there, but the others are leaving. I
think they are afraid of the giant bird with broken wings."
"Well, I'm not!" cried Dick. And he shouted back to his followers.
"Forward men! Let's go!"
The warriors let out their horses and on approaching the cleared space
they scattered among the open trees and charged in from different
angles. Before Dick's eyes was what he expected, from Mutaba's
description: the _Meteorite_ crashed and helpless.
Instantly he guessed what had happened.
Slythe had landed there with his prisoners whom he had taken to
Mobogoma's camp. Then after being driven out he had tried to escape
with Professor Oakwood, his remaining captive, and had crashed on the
take-off.
As Dick neared the plane he could see Jess working about it, while his
father, tied by the wrists, sat on the ground, looking very wretched
and hopeless. No Arabs were in sight.
"Don't worry, Dad! Your troubles are over!" shouted Dick as he
galloped forward, while behind him thundered the hoofs of his rescue
party.
The professor gave a great shout of delight. Jess Slythe cursed and
drew his revolver, firing wildly, but the range was too great. He
emptied his gun without effect and before he could reload, the
tribesmen were almost upon him, yelling and brandishing their weapons.
Already arrows were whistling about his ears, as the riders shot from
the saddle and Jess Slythe saw that his only chance for safety was in
flight. Cursing like a madman he waved his empty gun at the riders,
then dashed for his own horse and put spurs to it.
"After him, men!" shouted Dick, and he saw the riders hot in pursuit.
But as for himself, he was not so keen to overtake Jess Slythe as to
hold his father in his arms.
Out of the saddle he leaped and the next instant he was embracing the
old man and laughing, almost crying in excitement.
"Oh, Dad, this is wonderful!"
"My boy! My boy!" the older man exclaimed, and after giving Dick a big
hug he held him off at arm's length and surveyed him.
Dick made a splendid showing in his garb of a savage king, clad in the
skin of a wild beast and carrying primitive weapons, and his father was
proud of him as well as astonished.
"I always trusted you to come out all right!" he exclaimed. "Rex
Carter said I did wrong to let you run loose in Africa, but I told him
you were able to take care of yourself better than most men."
"But at that, you never expected to hear of me crowned with the ancient
diadem of the Taharans and Gorols," laughed Dick. "Say Dad, what do
you think! I found a Hindu wise man who says that crown was once owned
by King Solomon himself."
Professor Oakwood did not try to laugh off this story. Instead he
answered seriously, "There are more strange things in the wilds of
Africa than I ever dreamed of. I must talk to your wise man."
The father and son had much to say to each other. The professor
explained how Jess Slythe had tried to fly with him that morning but
the plane had made a faulty take-off and crashed before it got far from
the ground.
"And Jess had a stiff row with the Arab scoundrel, Abdul," said
Professor Oakwood. "That's why the Arabs left in a huff, and Jess was
trying to patch up the plane."
Dan and Ray had joined the party now, while most of the tribesmen
gathered about, staring at the damaged _Meteorite_. One by one, the
men who had been pursuing Jess Slythe returned. The clever scoundrel
had given them all the slip, and as he was mounted on a fresh horse,
there was little chance of catching up with him.
"Give it up as a bad job!" observed Dan. "Say, I'll meet that crook
some day and, boy! How I'll make him suffer!"
"He will be punished sooner or later," said Professor Oakwood. "No
villain escapes in the long run. Sometimes the penalty is delayed, but
somehow, sometime, the evil-doers pay for their wickedness."
"Is that why you never get excited, Dad?"
"Yes, Dick, I am philosophic about life. Believing as I do, I can take
things as they come."
"You and the Mahatma would have a lot to talk about," said Dan eagerly.
"Say, that wise old bird has everything all figured out. He's
wonderful!"
Ray laughed.
"Dan is funny," she said. "First he disbelieves everything, but once
he is convinced, he swallows all he is told."
"Oh, come now, Ray," exclaimed her brother. "You should be the first
to admit that Old Santa Claus--I mean the Mahatma--is the real thing.
Why, without him we would have been killed by the savages and you would
not have been rescued."
Dan went on to explain the Hindu's power to send his thoughts through
space and to control animals by his mysterious gift.
"Seeing is believing!" laughed Ray. "When I actually _see_ all that,
I'll believe it."
But Professor Oakwood was inclined to take the Mahatma seriously. "I
am anxious to talk to this wise man from the East," he said. "There is
nothing I should like better than to learn more about his occult power."
"You will have the chance today," said Dick. "He is waiting for us at
the camp."
"That's where you're wrong," said Dan. "Some mysterious power tells me
that he is on his way here."
He gravely closed his eyes, placed one hand on his forehead and raising
the other one spread his fingers rapidly and closed them again.
"Hocus-pocus! Abracadabra! Now-you-see-it. Now-you-don't! Here
comes the Mahatma now!"
Ray saw a suspicious twitch at the corner of her brother's mouth and
cried, "Dan Carter, you're spoofing us!"
Dick looked hastily in the direction of the jungle trail by which they
had come and saw figures moving through the trees.
"Say, you foxy rascal!" he exclaimed. "It's easy to guess what
'mysterious power' told you that the Mahatma is on the way. It was
just good eyesight!"
Sure enough, the litter bearers were now at the edge of the clearing
and the Hindu could be seen plainly moving toward them.
"I told you so!" cried Ray. "All this crystal gazing and the other
miracles can be explained just as easily. I bet the Mahatma has been
laughing at you all the time."
Both Dick and Dan paid no attention to her outburst. Already they were
running to meet the old man, whom they regarded as their benefactor,
and soon they were leading him in triumph to the plane where Professor
Oakwood was standing.
Dick introduced his father and the two elderly gentlemen shook hands.
They were totally different in appearance, the professor so spare and
erect with thin, alert features and the Mahatma, stout, even pudgy,
with his flowing beard and dark intelligent eyes.
"I am grateful to you for helping us out of a great danger," said
Professor Oakwood. "My son tells me that you have used your strange
science to save our lives."
"I know but little," said the Mahatma gravely, "but what little
knowledge I have is at your service."
"How can I ever repay you?"
"Your son has offered to repay me a thousand times over," replied the
Mahatma. "When he shows me the ancient crown, engraved with symbols of
knowledge, I shall be the happiest man in the world."
"That's right," Dick cried. "I'll take you back to the land of the
Gorols. That's where the crown is guarded."
"It's going to be a long hard trek for a fat man," blurted Dan. Then
he blushed and stammered, "Excuse me! You're not so _terribly_ fat!
What I mean is, it's a hot trip across the desert. I minded it myself."
The Mahatma smiled. "Don't apologize, my son! And have no fear about
the long journey, for my crystal tells me that we shall fly there
through the air."
"Oh, you mean in the plane. That's where we are all out of luck. Jess
Slythe crashed it this morning."
"So my crystal told me," said the Hindu. "But we do not need that
plane. Another one is on the way now. It is many times larger than
this one and can carry us with ease."
"You mean my father's plane?" Dan was excited at the prediction.
"Did you not say that your father had an airplane that could fly with
us--even to Holy India? Behold, it is flying toward us even now."
Dick, Dan and Ray all searched the sky for a glimpse of Rex Carter's
cabin plane, but there was not a speck in the blue.
"False alarm!" laughed Ray. "Lucky we have horses!"
"You're going to admit that you're wrong," teased Dan.
Dick produced his binoculars from the case that hung over his shoulder
and studied the heavens but there was no trace of a plane to be seen
anywhere.
"Not yet, my son!" said the Mahatma. "We can go to the fringe of the
forest and rest in the shade. It will be an hour before the plane
appears from the west."
He signalled to his bearers and they carried his litter to the nearest
clump of trees, while Professor Oakwood walked alongside, conversing
earnestly with the wise man.
The others followed and soon all were comfortably seated in the shade,
and happy to be out of the blistering African sunlight.
Ray, Dan and Dick had plenty to talk about for a while but presently
Ray became drowsy in the heat and yawned.
"I need a good sleep," she declared. "I've had too much excitement."
"What I crave is a good lunch," said Dan. "Why didn't somebody bring a
picnic basket?"
His head sank between his knees and he dozed off but suddenly Dick
shook him by the shoulders and the distant roar of engines was the
first thing he heard.
At first Dan thought he was dreaming, then he sprang to his sister and
shouted in her ear, "Wake up! Wake up! Look, Ray! There comes the
plane!"
Ray ran out into the clearing, shouting and waving her arms.
Dan and Dick followed her and yelled at the top of their voices.
"This is silly," said Dick, finally. "What's the use of shouting? We
could never be heard above the noise of the engines."
"It's too far away to see us," groaned Dan.
"But they are sure to see the wrecked _Meteorite_" Dick assured him.
"That's so. If they keep straight on, they will pass right over it,"
said Ray, then her voice broke as she exclaimed, "Look, Dan. It's
banking for a turn. The plane is starting the other way!"