Peril Ahead
"How long will it take us to get to this Forest of Mystery?" inquired
Bob Holton, as he and his chum followed the naturalists over the
grassy plain.
"Many, many days," answered Mr. Lewis. "It is in the very heart of the
vast Belgian Congo and is inaccessible by way of roads and railways."
"So much the better for us," laughed Joe. "We'll probably find things
there that no one else has seen. At least, no other white men."
"Let's hope you're right, Son," came from his father. "Howard and I
would like to discover some totally unknown animals. But," he added
significantly, "we'll have to watch our step. Who knows what perils
may be hidden in that mysterious forest?"
The afternoon was rapidly wearing on, and although the explorers were
still on the open plain, Noko announced that he desired to get beyond
it before nightfall. In the distance they could see a dark jungle,
through which they would soon be passing.
The grass under their feet was tough and wiry and yielded reluctantly.
Occasionally small animals darted out before them and disappeared
under cover of the grass. None of the large cats, however, showed
itself.
"Wish we could get a look at a lion," remarked Bob, tightening his
grip on his rifle. "What I'll do to one if I see one!"
The naturalists looked back and smiled.
"Maybe it would work the other way around," chuckled Mr. Holton. "What
would the lion do to you?"
"Oh, I don't know, Dad. I'm not a bad shot. You know that. And I've
met wild animals before."
"True, Bob," came from his father. "But none happened to be as
ferocious as old _felis leo_----"
"I thought the lion is called _simba_," interrupted Joe.
A burst of laughter followed.
"It's very apparent," said Mr. Lewis, "that you need to brush up on
your natural history."
"Why?" inquired Joe, somewhat surprised. "What was funny?"
"Still don't get the point, huh?" laughed Mr. Holton. "Well, we'd
better tell you before you spring that one before some of our
naturalist friends. _Felis leo_, boys, is the lion's scientific name.
_Simba_ is the name given to him by the natives."
The boys laughed also when Mr. Holton had finished.
"_Simba_ fits him better," mused Joe. "Of course, it's less
distinguished, but, just the same, it's easier to say."
At last they found themselves nearing the jungle, after having left
the long stretch of veldt behind. As it was almost sundown, the
naturalists greatly desired to stop for the night. Noko, however, for
some reason wanted to plunge into the jungle without delay. Perhaps he
feared the invasion of wild beasts if camp should be made on the
grassland.
Before long they plunged into the woodland, and their rate of travel
was necessarily reduced somewhat. For with all the many sharp-pointed
thorns, low bushes, tangled vines, and other obstacles, the
adventurers found it difficult to maintain a rapid pace.
"Keep a sharp lookout," cautioned Mr. Holton, glancing back for a
moment. "This region shouldn't be particularly dangerous, but you
never can tell."
"Only thing I'm especially afraid of," began Joe, "is poisonous
snakes. Can't tell just when you might step on one."
"Leopards are also dangerous," put in his father. "At any minute one
might leap down from a tree and make for us. Still, the animals are
likely to be frightened by such a large safari as ours."
At frequent intervals Bob and Joe took turns in "shooting" the country
with the motion-picture cameras. These latter were not the type that
require a tripod, but were relatively simple in design and easy to
operate, it being necessary only to press a button as the lens was
focused.
The jungle was becoming more tangled with every passing minute. Huge
forest trees were everywhere, many of them having parasitic vines
wound tightly around their trunks. Strange, odd plants grew about in
profusion. Bright-colored flowers were everywhere and often diverted
the youths' attention from the path.
Many varieties of butterflies, frequently beautifully marked,
fluttered about. Once Joe was lucky enough to catch one with his hand
and at once passed it to Mr. Holton, who was nearest him.
They had trekked for over an hour when suddenly there arose a
commotion in the rear ranks of the line of carriers.
"What's that?" burst out Bob, turning on the instant. "Sounds like
something's the matter."
Mr. Holton ran back down the path, followed by Bob, Joe, and the
latter's father.
Then they saw the cause of the disturbance. A veritable army of tiny
red ants was attacking the bare feet of the bearers and was doing the
job right. There must have been tens of thousands of the little
creatures, for they were crawling about in great masses.
Noko shouted something in the native language, motioning and frowning
indignantly. What he said the Americans never knew.
"Look at them," said Joe excitedly. "Isn't there anything they can do
to beat them off?"
The natives were becoming frantic with fear and discomfort. They
jumped about wildly in attempts to escape from the countless menacing
hordes. Despite the seriousness of the matter, Bob and Joe could not
help laughing at the actions of the natives.
"This ought to be a swell scene," laughed Bob, focusing the movie
camera on the dancing mob. "And it's all genuine, too. No acting about
it."
The filming was shortly interrupted, as the attacked bearers rushed
madly up the path, apparently intent upon running from the red ants.
Bob and Joe took to their heels with the rest and at last were
sufficiently far from the scene to be out of danger. All were panting
and perspiring after the short but tiring run.
"Are we rid of them?" inquired Bob. He had not seen a red ant since he
had started running.
Noko nodded.
"They gone," he said, stopping for a moment and facing Bob. "Heap bad.
Bites hurt."
"I shouldn't imagine it is very pleasant to be bitten by them," said
Joe.
"The natives steer clear of them," put in Mr. Lewis, as the cavalcade
again took up the journey. "Not infrequently red ants invade villages
and drive the entire population to some place of refuge. Howard and I
have often come upon deserted villages that had been left for that
very reason."
Just before nightfall the party came to a wide stream of muddy water,
which wound itself through the dense jungle. From all appearances the
stream was very deep.
The chums saw that fifty feet farther along there was a log spanning
the creek, probably placed there by natives.
"Wonder if we'll have to cross that?" mused Joe, looking with distrust
at the improvised bridge.
"Looks like it," his friend responded. "The path quits off there, you
know, and continues from the other side."
The words were scarcely spoken when Noko stopped and turned to the
naturalists.
"Cross here," he told them, indicating the log. "Must be care. Not
slip."
"Wow!" cried Bob suddenly.
"What's the matter?" asked Joe.
For answer, Bob pointed to the stream.
There, lurking sluggishly on a flat shelf, was a huge crocodile which
looked as if it were waiting for one of the adventurers to plunge into
the dark water.