A Promise of a Thrill
Not ten feet away, at the point where the trail branched, was a huge
mound of earth that must have been at least thirty feet high. It was
conical in shape, gradually tapering up to a sharp point.
"What do you call that?" asked Joe, staring in amazement at the
formation.
"If I'm not mistaken, it's an ant hill," Bob answered, moving closer
to the mound of earth. Often Bob had heard of this phenomenon, but
until now had not seen it.
"A what? Ant hill? You don't mean to say that ants built that, do
you?"
"I guess they did," returned Bob. "Dad says ants have been known to
heap up the earth to a height of forty feet or more."
"Of all things!" Joe could hardly believe what his chum said. "How do
they do it, anyway?"
"More than I know. They're busy little creatures, though."
The boys examined the ant hill with a great deal of curiosity. It
seemed almost incredible that ants could construct such a huge piece
of architecture. Why, it must have required the efforts of tens of
thousands of the little creatures!
But although greatly interested, Bob and Joe did not spend too much
time here, for they desired to explore a bit longer before returning
to the safari.
Everywhere they went they saw brilliantly colored birds, which often
fluttered so near that the youths could almost touch them. Luxuriant
flowers were also in abundance.
The chums trekked on for a distance of perhaps a half mile, then
turned back toward the expedition. When they reached the clearing,
they found Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton ready to continue the journey.
"See anything of interest, boys?" inquired the latter, signaling to
Noko to lead the way.
"Plenty," returned Joe. "An ant hill, for one thing. And was it a
whopper! Must have been thirty feet if an inch."
"That was only a taste," grinned Mr. Lewis, with a wink at Bob's
father. "Howard and I have often seen them forty feet or more."
As they penetrated deeper into the jungle, the vegetation became
denser and consequently more difficult to pass through. Often the sun
was entirely hidden from view by the thick canopy of foliage above,
and the explorers found themselves in a sort of twilight. At other
times they would emerge from the leafy depths and make their way over
wide plains under the fierce tropical sun.
But despite many difficulties of the trail, the expedition made good
time and by night had covered a good many miles. They camped beside a
narrow, winding stream, which looked as if it were several yards deep.
"Bet there's fish in there," remarked Joe, peering into the dark water
of the stream.
Noko overheard the remark and understood.
"Um big fish dare," the native said, his eyes following those of Joe.
"Dey good eat."
"That's an idea," mused Bob. "Why not try our luck at fishing?"
"Sure." Joe was more than willing.
The youths got out their tackle and fashioned crude poles out of tree
branches. Then, sitting a short distance apart on the bank, they
waited silently, while the naturalists looked on with interest.
Suddenly, when it had been in the water but a few minutes, Joe's float
was drawn completely under the water with such force that the pole
was almost snatched out of the youth's hands.
"Pull!" exclaimed Bob in a loud whisper.
Joe obeyed, but found that to do this was harder than he had
anticipated. But with the aid of his chum the catch was drawn out
easily.
All uttered startled exclamations at sight of it.
"A tiger fish," pronounced Mr. Lewis. "Only a small one, though."
"Small one?" cried Joe, wheeling about. "What are you talking about,
Dad? Bet that fish weighs ten pounds!"
"Maybe so," Mr. Lewis returned. "But it isn't uncommon to catch tiger
fish that weigh as much as twenty pounds. In fact, Howard hooked one
in the Zambezi River that tipped the scales at forty-two."
"No!" Bob and Joe both looked up in amazement.
"That's right," vouched Mr. Holton. "It was the biggest I've ever
caught."
During the next fifteen minutes Joe caught four more of the big fish,
none, however, being as large as the first one. Then, using the
knowledge gained on other exploration ventures, he dressed them and
placed them over the fire.
"Doggone the luck!" growled Bob. "I didn't get a single bite. This
big bum here walks off with a whole river full."
"Cheer up," consoled Mr. Holton. "You can at least share the eating of
them."
"Yeah," put in Joe. "You can take a whiff at them."
The tiger fish proved good eating and were a welcome addition to the
usual menu.
"And now," began Mr. Lewis, stretching out to retire after two hours
of chatting, "we'd better get to sleep. Noko says we'll run into a
native village tomorrow. That may delay us for a while."
Shortly before noon of the next day the explorers heard a chorus of
shouts and yells, which came from around a bend, and they soon found
themselves facing a large group of natives.
Noko at once fell into conversation with the chief, with whom he was
well acquainted. They talked for several minutes, and in the end the
chief motioned for the safari to follow him into the village.
That village the two youths found very interesting. It was made up of
several rows of thatched huts, about which sat natives dozing or
conversing. Apparently there was no work being done, the natives
probably resting to escape the terrible heat of the sun.
The chief escorted the safari to his own huge hut, where he asked that
they remain for a while. The bearers were glad to do as requested, so
as to get out of the fierce heat. And as Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis were
also reluctant to continue the journey at this time of day, they also
consented.
Both the naturalists had picked up a good knowledge of the native
language on their frequent trips to Africa and so had no difficulty in
taking part in the conversation. They translated occasionally to Bob
and Joe.
During the course of the talk the chief mentioned something that was
of great interest to Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton, and also to the chums.
The section around the village was being made unsafe for hunting by a
huge, bad-tempered buffalo which would charge any of the natives on
sight. One man had been killed and two others severely wounded by the
beast, and although numerous parties had set out to kill it, they had
so far been unsuccessful in doing so. For some reason the animal never
would wander far from a certain spot near a stream. So dangerous was
the buffalo that the villagers were afraid to go to the stream to get
water and had to follow a roundabout trail.
When the chief had finished, Mr. Lewis spoke up at once.
"We"--indicating Mr. Holton, the youths, and himself--"will make a
special effort to kill that buffalo," he told the chief in the native
tongue. "We would like to kill the animal and take it back to our own
country to show the people. Will you help us?"
The head native was delighted. Certainly he would help. If the bad
animal could be killed, he would be very grateful to the whites, and
would present them with several wild animal skins.
"It is agreed, then," Mr. Holton said to the chief. "We will set out
this afternoon."
"This is going to be good," mused Bob, giving his chum a nudge in the
ribs.