QUILQUA THE MYSTERIOUS
He was a suave, polished, open-shirted Arab, who appeared the morning
after they had left Port Said and the Suez far behind, and who smiled at
Louis Schoverling with the air of old acquaintance. The American sprang
up with extended hand.
"Why, Selim! I had no idea you were aboard!"
"Neither had the authorities at Port Said," rejoined the Arab softly.
The explorer raised his eyebrows, and Jack nudged Charlie significantly.
A moment later they were being introduced, and von Hofe was explaining
the object of their journey.
"It should interest Mr. ben Amoud," smiled the General, "as he is one of
the largest Arab dealers in ivory--and other things--on the Coast."
Selim, much to Charlie's surprise, spoke fluent English, enjoyed his
cigar as much as did the explorer, and was not as swarthy as their
Italian captain. He sat quietly beneath the awning, his wide hat shading
his face, and would easily have been taken for a German or Boer, with
his flowing beard and European clothes. Most of the Arabs on board wore
the burnous and sandals, and Charlie wondered if there were any reason
behind this European garb.
The trader heard of their expedition, and gravely complimented von Hofe
on his work, of which he spoke with some knowledge, until the doctor
beamed genially.
After a pause Selim turned to Schoverling. "Much has happened in the two
years since I last saw you. You have not, by any chance, heard of one
who calls himself 'Me debbil man'?"
Charlie started, but Jack, his deep black eyes suddenly afire, gripped
his arm. Von Hofe stared, and the Arab gazed at Schoverling, whose face
never changed.
"Yes," replied the explorer, quietly. "We are all friends of his."
The Arab's gaze darted to one of the deck-hands, lounging on the rail
near by. Charlie saw ben Amoud rise, step to the man's side, and hiss
something. The man looked startled; then his face changed and he slunk
away. Selim, his narrow eyes glittering, returned to his deck-chair and
settled himself comfortably.
"Now we can talk, my friends. Mr. Schoverling, have you ever heard of
Lake Quilqua?"
The American looked puzzled. "Can't say I remember the name, Selim.
Where is it?"
"Ah, many men have asked that question!" and Selim's white teeth shone.
Charlie stole a glance at Jack. His dreams of the mysterious East were
being rapidly realized! "No one has ever answered it, however. It is one
of those odd native yarns that are generally founded on fact, though you
white men disbelieve them. Here it is for you:
"Two years ago rumors began to drift to certain of us that somewhere,
far down from the Abyssinian border in that desolate land north of the
Lorian Swamp, there was a lake. The tale was given me in fuller form by
one of my own Arabs who had got lost and found his way out to die,
crazed and raving of horrible things, only a few months ago.
"This lake, it seems, is fed by underground springs--hot springs, that
spout up and fall like fountains on the water; its outlet is also by an
underground river, so that the lake lies, sweltering in the sun and
surrounded by desert and jungle and marsh, where no people live."
Ben Amoud turned to the calmly interested German. "You, Doctor von Hofe,
are a scientist. Granted such a body of water, at an average temperature
of ninety to a hundred degrees Fahrenheit; would animal life in it and
near it be liable to any change in average size?"
The big man stroked his beard reflectively, pulling at his pipe.
"Possibly," he admitted at length. "But only one way. If animal life
could exist at such a temperature, it would perhaps be much larger than
elsewhere. For instance, a buffalo lives much in the water. In such a
place as that, a buffalo's great-grandchildren would be larger, and so
on through succeeding generations, each a little larger. Yes, it iss
possible--but nod probable."
"Do you mean," cried Charlie, unable to repress his eagerness, "that
there are giant animals there?"
The Arab smiled and waved his hand. "It is but a tale, remember. See, I
have heard that in this lake are great serpents of monstrous size. That,
as our friend has just said, there are such buffalo there as were never
seen, and that evil spirits dwell on an island near the reed-encircled
shore. But there is one thing more, that might interest you; indeed, it
was my reason for telling you the story.
"Not only the wandering natives, but my own Arab, have raved of a
tremendous elephant, a rogue, who dwells near there. He is said to be of
great size, very wicked, and cursed by Allah with the desire to fight
men. His size is said to be that of a mountain--and in truth I doubt if
any man has ever seen him and lived to tell of it. There, my friends,
would be a conquest worthy of your skill!"
Von Hofe grunted, but Charlie saw that his blue eyes were never off the
face of the Arab. Jack sat listening with all his ears.
"What's a 'rogue'?" he asked.
"Wait till you see one and you won't need to ask. A rogue is a big bull
elephant who's broken away from his herd and lives by himself in the
jungle. He's usually a man-fighter, and doesn't think anything of
attacking a whole herd of elephants. He's an outlaw, and he's a bad
citizen to meet.
"But I hardly think, Selim," continued the General with a smile, "that
we will penetrate to such a place. All we wish is a couple of very large
bulls; the others of the groups can be picked up nearer home, but it is
essential that we get magnificent tuskers."
"And I have told you where to get the best of all tuskers," rejoined
Selim seriously. "There is some foundation for such a tale, believe me.
I am not at liberty to tell you more, but perhaps you, Mr. Schoverling,
could imagine a friend of yours who would be very likely to try the
truth of the yarn."
Charlie's quick eyes roved from face to face. He had not fought with the
world for most of his life and emerged unable to read men's faces, young
as he was; and he knew enough of Jack by this time to feel confident
that the other was losing nothing of what went on.
At the Arab's last words a glance flashed between him and the explorer.
Von Hofe was frankly puzzled over these references to an unknown
person, but he asked no questions, wisely. It was the explorer who
finally spoke.
"Yes, I can imagine such a man, Selim. But we are in no way connected
with him, nor are we acting in conjunction with him. He told me, the day
he left New York, that he had something big on hand, and would perhaps
meet me later."
The Arab smiled slightly and tossed his cigar over the rail. Charlie had
jumped at the conclusion that they spoke of Mowbray, the ivory raider,
when Selim had first uttered the catch-phrase or password. At
Schoverling's reply he knew that he had been right, and watched eagerly
for more.
But the conversation shifted to other things, and during the morning
there was no more said of the mysterious lake. The two boys got off by
themselves and discussed the matter, but arrived nowhere.
"Prob'ly Mowbray is making a try for that Quilqua business," concluded
Jack sagely. "It sounds mighty good to me, old boy?"
"Here too," agreed Charlie. "But Selim laid it on too thick, with sea
serpents and elephants like mountains. Bet a dollar to a pine chip that
he had some axe to grind with the General. You wait and see."
"Mebbe," conceded Jack doubtfully. "He's a slick-lookin' proposition,
Chuck. I saw the lines of a gun in his coat pocket, too. He didn't do
much grinding, anyhow. The General didn't fall for his line of talk
worth a cent. Well, let's get back; it's almost time for lunch--or what
do they call it here? Tiff 'em?"
"Tiffin," chuckled his friend; "same's they do in India. There's a heap
of Indians all down the coast, 'cause it's a Mohammedan country an' they
don't lose caste by coming over to work."
All of which explanation was largely lost on Jack. Charlie knew a good
deal of the East Indians, having witnessed most of the Hindu immigrant
riots in western Canada, and he was frankly interested in them as a
race.
When they returned to the after awning they found Selim just saying
good-bye. He was to leave the ship at Ras al Kyle, a port on the Italian
Somaliland coast, and they were nearly due to reach there. So he suavely
bowed himself away, in odd contrast to his Boer-like appearance, and the
boys immediately deluged the General with questions. Dr. von Hofe
rumbled out a laugh.
"Would you prefer my absence, General? I--"
"Nonsense, Doctor!" broke in Schoverling sharply. "Here is all I know,"
and he told the big German of meeting Mowbray, and of the latter's
words.
"So!" drawled von Hofe. "Then, this Selim ben Amoud is who?"
"I have heard that he is the wealthiest Arab on the east coast," replied
the American. "You noticed, I suppose, what he first said?"
Charlie nodded eagerly.
"Privately, I have no doubt that he is a slaver," went on the explorer.
"He has a hand in everything, and is always in hot water with the
British authorities. He was trying to find out whether or not our
expedition had anything to do with that of Mowbray. I have met him
before and we know each other slightly."
"Well," asked Jack, "is Mowbray going to the magic lake?"
The explorer laughed. "Who knows? The whole yarn may be a
bluff--probably is. Selim would like the British to think that
Mowbray's party is merely exploring, and perhaps he thinks we will
spread the news, in which he is mistaken. Or, he may have been honest in
the matter; you can never tell what lies behind his words."
At this Charlie's face fell slightly. He had been intensely interested
in the Arab's tale, and the thought that it was a put-up job did not
appeal to him in the least.
"But wasn't it true?" he inquired, disappointed. "It sounded pretty good
to me!"
"Frankly, Charlie, I don't believe a word of it. You can hear yarns like
that wherever you go, and they usually pan out pretty small--just like
Jack's story of the mammoth up in the north. You noticed the password,
'Me debbil man'? Well, there isn't a particle of doubt in my mind that
Mowbray and Selim are parts of a big underground concern for illicit
trading. I don't for a minute think Mowbray would traffic in slaves, but
of course he's the biggest ivory raider in the game."
"Then it's a sort of conspiracy?" shot out Jack quickly. "Any chance of
our gettin' mixed up in the business?"
"Not a bit of it," asserted the explorer, with a smile at von Hofe.
"I'll answer for that, Jack. Selim is satisfied, and we'll probably
never hear from him or Mowbray again. Our own trip is perfectly fair and
square, the authorities will know everything we do, and we can't afford
to soil our fingers with anything crooked. It doesn't pay."
"That is why," struck in Dr. von Hofe, "I came to you. 'Schoverling,'
they told me, 'he is straight.' It is a good reputation to have, my
friend."
The boys nodded, understanding. A look of gratification crossed the
explorer's face, such gratification as comes to a man when he knows that
he has won the esteem of other men.
"We are not looking for hot water and sea serpents," went on the doctor
with a broad smile at the boys. "We are looking for elephants, let us
remember, please!"
With that, the topic of Lake Quilqua was promptly dropped. At Ras al
Kyle, Selim ben Amoud went ashore--this time wearing sandals and
burnous--and the _Mombasa_ took up her interrupted journey south. But
late that night, as the boys swung into their bunks, Jack gave vent to
his long-repressed thought.
"Chuck, I wish to thunder we were goin' to hunt for that lake!"
"Forget it," advised Charlie. "Von Hofe isn't paying expenses for us to
chase around after sea serpents. Anyhow, Jack, when you come to think it
over it doesn't stand to reason that there's any such place as that.
There's a heap of sense in what the General said. I've heard that Injun
yarn about the mammoths up north; but you know's well as I do that when
it comes down to hard pan there's nothin' to it. Same with this magic
lake."
"Guess you're right," sighed Jack regretfully, turning out the light.
While the boys were turning in, Dr. Gross von Hofe was replying to a
certain question put to him by the General, before they retired.
"Yes, my friend, it could be. Lieutenant Graetz found just such gigantic
buffalo at Lake Bangweolo, and was all but killed by them. He has
promised that I shall mount one, when he is able to undertake a second
expedition to bring home specimens. But elephants and sea
serpents--ach, no! Such a yarn is crazy."
"So crazy as a loon," laughed Schoverling, and said good night.