OFF FOR AFRICA
“What sort of an offer do you think he’s going to make us, Blake?”
asked Joe, as they finished the films of the circus wreck, and began
taking their camera apart.
“I haven’t the least idea, unless he wants to buy a reel of these
pictures to show in his circus; and yet I don’t see how he can do that
very well.”
“Oh, if he wants to buy a reel, I suppose we can sell it to him, after
we run off some positives.”
“Sure, we’re in that business. But let’s get back and see what the
chances are for moving. The wreck isn’t as bad as I feared it was.”
“No, and a good thing, too.”
“I sure thought it was all up with us, when that crash came,” went on
Blake. “It sounded like the end of everything.”
“That’s right. And when Miss Lee yelled ‘Snake!’ I didn’t know what to
make of it.”
“Thought it was a sort of nightmare; eh?”
“That’s about it.”
The boys found the excitement much lessened when they got back to their
car. It was occupied by a number of other passengers from the rest of
the train, most of them women, but with a few men, who seemed a bit
uneasy. The women made no effort to disguise their nervousness.
“Are all--ahem! are all the wild--that is to say--is there any more
danger, young men?” asked a portly gentleman, as Blake and Joe entered
the car.
“No, the only animals loose now are a camel and an elephant, and the
men will soon have them back in the train,” replied Joe.
“Ah! I am glad to hear that,” replied the man. “I--er--was just
going out to offer my services. I used to be somewhat of a hunter,
but--er--if they are all captured there is no need of my going----”
“Don’t you dare go, Henry!” cried a little woman, clinging to his coat
tails. “I don’t want you all chewed up by a lion. Don’t you dare to
leave me.”
“I--I won’t, Martha,” he answered. “I’ll stay and protect you.”
“Humph!” exclaimed C. C. “I guess there was not much danger of Henry
going--not yet.”
Several of the men from the other cars looked relieved at the news the
boys brought in, and soon, having ascertained by observation that no
animals, save a few horses, were loose, they left, taking their women
folk with them.
“I guess they used this car as a sort of haven of refuge, while the
animals were loose,” observed Mr. Hadley, while Blake and Joe put away
their camera.
“That’s right,” remarked Mr. Duncan, who had gone outside to see Joe
and his chum operate the machine. “That’s why the railroad men wanted
those people to come in here. It’s a steel car and safe from attack.”
“There wasn’t any danger,” declared Blake. “The lion was the only
dangerous one, and his trainer made him as meek as a lamb. It was a
wonderful exhibition.”
“That’s right,” agreed Joe. “Once more our hoodoo--of something always
happening--seems to have us in charge. I hope it will keep right on
until we get to Africa and find Jessie. That would be the best luck
ever.”
“Indeed, it would,” agreed his father.
The work of clearing away the wreck went on rapidly. Fortunately, the
smash had taken place near a small way station, and men from it, as
well as inhabitants of a nearby town, came out to lend their aid.
As it happened, only the rear end of the circus train had been hit,
a few cars being smashed. Of course, the jar and crash, however, had
been communicated all along the length of it. The passenger engine was
considerably damaged, as was the baggage car and the coach directly
behind it, but the locomotive could still be used, though not for great
speed.
An examination of the baggage of the theatrical troupe showed it had
suffered only a little, none of the moving picture cameras having been
damaged.
Nor were many persons hurt. None was in serious condition, and their
injuries were dressed by a physician who chanced to be on the train.
The first-aid kit carried by the theatrical company proved very useful.
As for the circus people, none of them was hurt, though some were badly
shaken up and bruised. A few animals were killed, but none of the
valuable ones, and soon all that had escaped or strayed were safe in
other cages or cars.
“All aboard!” called the passenger conductor, after straightening
out many tangles and wiring on ahead for another train to meet his.
The theatrical car could be used, but it was considered safer to get
another as soon as possible. “All aboard!”
“If that circus man wants to tell us about some big proposition he
has, he’d better hurry,” remarked Joe, looking out of the window to
where he could see Mr. Stone directing the work of securing the cages
on the flat cars. “We’ll be moving soon.”
“That’s right,” agreed Blake. “I wonder what he can want us to do? I’m
not going to be a circus performer, I give you that straight.”
“Me either,” declared Joe.
Evidently Mr. Stone attached some importance to the message he had for
the moving picture boys, for no sooner did he hear the orders given to
get ready to move the passenger train than, leaving the finishing of
the circus work to an assistant, he hurried to the theatrical car.
“Well, boys,” he began, “I suppose you have been wondering what it was
I wanted to see you about?”
“Somewhat,” admitted Joe.
“I’ll come to the point at once,” went on Mr. Stone. “I liked the nerve
you boys showed when that lion got out, and, as I said, I’ve been
wanting for some time to get in touch with such lads. It takes nerve,
this circus business.”
“But we don’t want to get into the circus business,” interposed Blake.
“As my chum here told you, we are going to the jungles of Africa to
find his sister.”
“That’s all right,” said Mr. Stone. “What I have to propose will fit
right in with that. You know how to take moving pictures; don’t you?”
“If they don’t, no one in the business does!” exclaimed Mr. Hadley.
“They’re experts at it. They can get anything.”
“Good! I’m glad to hear it. Do you think they could get views of the
animals in the jungle--views that would show the animals in their
native wilds--fighting, feeding at the water holes--just as they
actually are, undisturbed by man? Could they do that?”
“Of course they could!” exclaimed the head photographer, while Joe and
Blake looked curiously at each other.
“Then they’re just the very lads I want!” exclaimed Mr. Stone. “Listen.
For some time back I have been considering the showing of films of
wild animals of the jungle in connection with my circus. I have a big
menagerie, as you have doubtless noticed. People are always interested
in animals.
“Now, if I could fit up a dark tent with my show and exhibit films of
wild animals as they are in the jungle, people could look at them, and
then, by stepping into the next tent, they could see the very animals
themselves--at least, some just like those in the pictures. I think it
would make a hit.”
“It does sound good,” remarked Mr. Ringold, with a theatrical man’s
insight into what would please the public.
“It’s going to be good!” declared Mr. Stone. “Now, if you boys will
make the films, I’ll do the rest. What do you say; is it a go? I’ll
pay you what’s right, and the only stipulation is that I am to have an
interest in the films, for we can doubtless sell a number of the reels.
Will you do it?”
Joe and Blake hesitated. The idea appealed to them. Joe looked at his
father.
“I don’t see why you can’t do this,” said Mr. Duncan. “We have to go to
the jungle, anyhow, to find Jessie, and there’s nothing to hinder you
from taking moving pictures. I think you may accept the offer.”
“That’s the way to talk!” exclaimed Mr. Stone.
“Shall we, Blake?” asked Joe.
“I’m willing.”
“Then it’s a go!” cried his chum. “We’ll do the best we can for you,
Mr. Stone.”
“Good!” cried the circus man. “Now you’re going to New York, as I
understand it. You’ll probably be there a week, won’t you, before you
can complete your arrangements for going to Africa?”
“Probably,” replied Mr. Duncan.
“All right. I’ll come on before then and look you up. I’ve got to go
on with the circus for a time, and then my helpers can look after it.
I want to be in New York, anyhow, to see about suing the railroad, and
that will just fit in. That’s all settled, then? You’ll get pictures
for me of the wild animals of the jungle?”
“We’ll do our best,” promised Joe and Blake.
“Then I’ll see you later and arrange details. Good-bye.”
“All aboard!” called the passenger conductor again, and the train,
somewhat crippled, pulled away from the scene of the wreck.
“Well, what do you know about that?” asked Joe of his chum, when they
had settled down, nursing some minor cuts and bruises. “Isn’t that
about the limit--filming wild animals in the jungle!”
“It sounds strange, but it’s reasonable, I suppose.”
“If you got films of the fanatical Indians, I don’t see why you can’t
get wild animals,” said Mr. Duncan. “It can’t be much harder than
getting the wreck in which I came ashore.”
“But it’s more dangerous,” said C. C. Piper, in his most melancholy
voice. “Think of standing beside a camera, grinding away at the handle,
with a rogue elephant charging at you; or a big rhinoceros. Not for
mine! You’ll never come back alive!”
“Oh, don’t say such horrid things!” cried Miss Lee. “You are worse than
ever, Gloomy.”
“Well, it’s so. They’ll have a terrible time. I wouldn’t go for a
fortune. New York for mine. We’ll probably be dead when we get there,
but we’ll get there.”
“Oh, go get something to eat,” advised Mr. Ringold. “That may put you
in better humor.”
“I guess I will,” agreed C. C. “But I’ll probably get indigestion from
the fright I’ve had.”
New York was reached without incident, and the boys went to their
boarding house, Mr. Duncan accompanying them. The theatrical troupe
separated, all promising to see our heroes before the trip to Africa
was started. Macaroni, or Charles Anderson, the thin young helper of
Joe and Blake, did not come from the coast with them, having obtained a
position in a San Francisco moving picture theatre.
Busy days followed, considerable preparation being necessary to prepare
for the African trip. In due time Mr. Stone arrived in New York, and
made satisfactory arrangements with Joe and Blake for taking pictures
of wild animals.
“Mind,” he explained, “I want pictures so that the person seeing them
will imagine he’s right on the spot looking at the animals eating,
fighting, or playing about. Don’t let the animals pose for you.”
“I guess there’s not much danger,” said Blake, with a laugh. “A wild
lion posing would be a curious sight.”
“And one not altogether healthy for the moving picture machine and the
fellow operating it,” added Blake.
“Well, it’s all settled, then,” concluded Mr. Stone, and a contract was
drawn up.
Good-byes were said to the theatrical company--that is, all but Mr.
Piper, who, so Mr. Ringold said, had gone off on a little trip. The
boys left their farewells for him.
Then, the arrangements being completed, they went aboard their vessel
in New York, and soon were on their way to Africa, Naples being the
first stopping point.
“Ho! for the jungle!” cried Blake, as he stood on deck while the ship
went through the Narrows.
“And for my little sister!” added Joe, softly.