SAVED FROM THE MONSTER
On came the rhinoceros, and Jack seeing him grow larger and larger
in the eye of the camera until his bulk seemed to fill the whole
world continued to crank the machine, exulting in the realization
that he was obtaining what undoubtedly would be the finest film of
the whole expedition to date, perhaps the finest and most thrilling
of all including whatever pictures lay in the future.
He was oblivious, in his blazing excitement, of the fact that the
rhinoceros was charging directly at him. He could not hear Bob’s
frenzied cries. He was unaware of Frank running toward him from the
background.
When finally, as the rhino came so close that looking into the
camera finder Jack could see little more than the huge formidable
head with its little eyes inflamed in anger, he realized with a
shock that in another minute it would be too late for him to escape.
What was more, all the risk he had run would go for nought, because
the great beast would trample the tripod and camera and destroy the
film.
Then Jack acted with a speed of which he had not considered himself
capable. But what one can do under stress of tremendous excitement
is considerable.
Sweeping the legs of the tripod together, he slung the camera over a
shoulder and leaped away, not running in the path of the charging
rhino, but at a right angle from it.
Seeing his prey escaping, but unable because of his great bulk to
halt his mad career in time, the rhino crashed forward. He passed
directly over the spot where Jack had been stationed not sixty
seconds after he had departed. One foot struck the film box and sent
it lurching forward, and another pile driver descended crushing it
into the ground.
But that was the end of Mr. Rhino. For ere the great beast could
turn to pursue his quarry, Bob’s rifle rang out and, drilled through
the heart, the monster halted, swayed on his feet, then fell over on
his side with a crash that made the very ground tremble.
Jack returning, white-faced now that he began to realize how close
had been his escape from a horrible death, could not speak as he
wrung big Bob’s hand. And the latter was still filled with nervous
excitement himself.
They merely looked at each other, hands clasped, trying to grin,
with Bob clutching his rifle and Jack his camera, until a rather
hysterical cry of “Hold it,” from the rear caused them to swing
about.
A score of feet away stood Frank, turning the crank of his camera.
He stopped and leaving the machine in position approached his
comrades.
“Picture of the slain monster and of his near-victim and the
latter’s saviour exchanging pleasantries,” he said.
Then his tone sobered and grabbing Jack by the shoulders, he shook
him fondly.
“You good-for-nothing rascal,” he said. “I almost died of heart
failure when I saw you sticking to your post. From the rear it
looked as if the rhino were running right over you. Then I saw you
dash away to one side and, believe me, lad, that was the welcomest
sight I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Jack looked apologetic. “Sorry I caused you fellows any worry on my
account,” he said. “The next time I’ll be more careful of your
feelings.”
“And, oh, yes,” added Frank, as they approached the fallen
rhinoceros and stood looking at his vast proportions, “I did what
looked like a sort of heartless thing. Seeing I couldn’t be of any
use, as I was without a rifle, I put down my camera, which I’d
grabbed when running toward you, and started cranking.”
“But, say, that’s great,” cried Jack. “You got some of that charge
yourself then, too?”
“I did that,” said Frank. “You obtained the picture of the rhino
charging head-on. But I got a film of his charge on you, with you
sticking to the camera until in another minute he’d have been upon
you. And I got Bob running up and firing at the crucial moment, the
rhino’s fall, and your handshake afterwards. Oh, I tell you, I got
me some real films.”
Temporarily thrown off the trail of the rhino, Mr. Hampton and
Niellsen now put in an appearance followed by scores of Chief
Ungaba’s warriors. And an excited throng it was which gathered
around while the boys related their adventure for the benefit of the
two white men and Mabele in turn told the crowding blacks what had
occurred.
“Well, I guess we’ve done all we can for today,” said Mr. Hampton
finally, after the story had been told and Jack had been both
scolded for his foolhardiness and congratulated on his lucky escape.
“Suppose we return to camp and leave the Kavirondos to skin the
rhino and bring in hide and meat.”
The three boys readily acquiesced in this decision, as all were so
shaken by their experience—Frank and Bob, in fact, suffering more by
reason of their fondness for Jack than did the latter himself—that
they were glad to depart.
But Niellsen decided to stay behind in order to obtain a film of the
skinning and cutting up process. So the four others departed for
camp where, after a bath and a change of clothing, they gathered in
front of the tent to talk over the day’s events and speculate upon
the character of the feast which Chief Ungaba would give that night
and to which they had been invited. In fact, they were to be the
guests of honor.
Presently Jack arose and strolled away again to his tent, Bob
calling to him a lazy inquiry as to what he was doing.
“Going to listen-in on the radio,” said Jack. He paused a moment
before going on. “There’s not much to listen to in this part of the
world,” he said. “But you know that night before last I heard Cape
Town. And then, too, there is always the possibility of getting the
wireless signals from some of these better class coast boats, even
though they are more than a thousand miles away.”
“Yes, and the lake steamers, too,” supplemented Frank, rising. “I
heard one of them carrying on a lengthy conversation about freight
rates the other day with a trader at Entebbe. Seemed the trader chap
was a wireless nut and had gone to considerable expense to put in a
station.”
“You’re right except for one thing,” said Mr. Hampton. “I heard of
that station when at Kisumu. Entebbe is on the northern side of Lake
Victoria. And when the trader put in his station, he didn’t find it
so very expensive, because the British government gave him a
subsidy. That might be a valuable outpost in case of trouble with
the natives, which some of the Germans who are still lurking in the
hinterland might stir up.”
As Mr. Hampton ceased, the two boys who had waited for him to
finish, started once more for the tent.
A long silence fell between the two left behind. Bob outstretched on
a poncho was too comfortable even to talk, and Mr. Hampton: was busy
posting his “log,” as he called the daily record of their travels
and adventures.
Presently a sharp call in Jack’s voice caused his father to look up,
while big Bob who had been almost asleep rolled over and propped
himself on an elbow. Jack stood in the doorway of the tent,
beckoning.
“Dad, Bob, come here. The radio.”