MABELE DISAPPEARS
While Jack hastened away toward the tent shared by the two others,
Bob and Frank made their way toward where a blazing camp fire marked
the encampment of the seventy-five bearers.
Few of the latter could be seen, not more than a dozen. Could the
others have decamped? Had they, perhaps, departed with Mabele? The
boys hurried forward, alarm knocking within. But when one of the
dozen blacks outstretched near the fire got to his feet on being
addressed in the bush English of which all had a smattering, he
informed Bob that his comrades had gone to the village to
participate in the celebration.
As that was to be expected, Bob’s anxieties in a measure subsided.
But when he asked whether Mabele had accompanied the party the man
shook his head in denial.
“Mabele him not go ’long,” he said. “No see Mabele long time.”
Quick inspection of the recumbent figures showed Mabele not of the
number, and convinced nothing as to his whereabouts was to be
learned of their informant the boys turned away. As they passed near
the boxes and bales of supplies and of equipment of one sort or
another, over which tarpaulins were lashed to protect them from
storms, Frank was seized with an idea.
Halting, he laid a hand on Bob’s arm.
“Have we ever used the spare radio transmitting apparatus on this
trip out from Kisumu?” he demanded.
Bob scratched his head.
“I don’t know. Seems to me the last time we had occasion to use it
was when our runaway raft grounded on that island in the river. And
that was before we reached Kisumu.”
“That’s my recollection, too,” said Frank, in a tone of
satisfaction. “Come on, let’s find Mr. Hampton and the others.”
He started forward again, and as Bob fell into pace beside him,
making for their tent before which they could observe a bobbing
lantern in the grip of an unseen hand, Bob demanded:
“What made you ask that about the spare radio?”
“Oh, I just thought that if we hadn’t ever unpacked it, Mabele
wouldn’t know it was there.”
“Right,” said Bob, comprehension dawning. “In that case, we won’t be
hamstrung.”
They were close enough now to see the lantern was borne by Jack and
that Mr. Hampton and Niellsen accompanied him.
“Did you find him?” asked Jack as they approached.
“No,” answered Frank, “nor did we find many of the bearers. Most of
them have gone to the village to take part in the celebration.”
Mr. Hampton groaned. “I had expressly forbidden Mabele to let the
men depart,” he said. “The rascal violated my orders in order to
have a clear field for his operations.”
Passing inside the tent, Mr. Hampton and Niellsen took their turn at
staring at the spot where the radio apparatus had stood, as if by
the mere fact of their glances they could conjure it back into
place.
“Then you, too, believe it was Mabele, Mr. Hampton?” asked Bob.
The older man nodded.
“I hardly knew what I suspected when he appeared at the tent today
and it seemed likely he had overheard what was being said. But this
has clarified my suspicions. He’s a shrewd one, a man as I said of
superior parts. I am of the opinion now that he’s in the pay of the
trouble-makers in this part of the world, be they German or what.
Doubtless he thought that by taking the radio apparatus he could cut
us oft from communication with Ransome.”
“And at the same time, perhaps, communicate with his confederates,”
suggested Frank.
“It’s a serious loss, all right enough,” said Mr. Hampton. “And,
furthermore, by allowing the bearers to attend the village
celebration he increases his opportunity for escape. The villagers
will be pretty loggy in the morning, and in no condition to help us
pick up Mabele’s trail. And now the bearers will be the same. He
will be able to get a good start.”
Sinking into a camp chair, he stared contemplatively at the ground,
and the others respected his silence.
“Moreover,” he resumed, “we have no means now of notifying Ransome
that Mabele stands betrayed in his true light. The rascal can get to
Entebbe ahead of us in the assurance that we have no way of
informing on him. And he may be able to cause no end of trouble.”
Frank stepped forward eagerly.
“But, Mr. Hampton, we have the spare radio packed away. We haven’t
used it for so long a time that it’s no wonder you have forgotten
about it. But that’s probably our salvation. For we haven’t used it
at any time during Mabele’s connection with our party, and so it’s
unlikely that he knew we had it.”
“Good for you, Frank,” said Mr. Hampton, jumping up, the lines of
worry disappearing as if by magic. “Let’s have a look. Bring that
lantern. Jack, and we’ll investigate.”
Forebearing to summon any of the bearers to aid them, the boys
themselves overhauled the heap of supply cases and from the midst
pulled the familiar case enclosing the spare transmitting set. Many
were their expressions of satisfaction.
Carrying it back to the tent, they opened it up. All the parts were
complete. And in another and smaller case was packed the aerial.
Assembling and setting up would be a short enough matter, but Mr.
Hampton suggested that they wait until the morning. For one thing,
he felt certain they would be unable to receive any response from
Entebbe at this hour.
“And, besides,” he pointed out, “there is little likelihood now that
we shall be able to start tomorrow. None of the bearers who went to
the village has returned as yet, and they will be feeling so badly
in the morning, after heavy potations of that native beer, that it
would be impossible to get any work out of them. Perhaps, by noon,
we can make a start. But even that is problematical. At any rate,
you fellows will have plenty of time in which to set up your radio
and open communication with Entebbe.”
Upon this understanding, Mr. Hampton and Niellsen were once more
about to retire for the night to their own tent, when Jack becoming
seized with a new idea again halted them.
He wanted to know whether his father did not consider it would be
wise to place a guard over their supplies. So friendly was Chief
Ungaba that they had felt an unwonted sense of security from thefts
during the weeks spent under his protection. For dire, indeed, had
been the punishment he had desired to visit upon the one and only
thief caught during their stay. In fact, he had wanted to put the
poor fellow to death, and he would have done it, too, had it not
been for Mr. Hampton’s representations.
“You see tonight, Dad,” explained Jack, “all the villagers will be
stupid with liquor, and the bearers, too. It just occurred to me
that, perhaps, Mabele has a number of malcontents amongst the
bearers who will follow him. If that’s the case, they can make a
rich haul and escape easily enough, if they wait until we retire and
then raid the supplies while the rest of the camp is incapacitated
by too much party.”
“You are right, Jack,” answered his father, “and I should have
thought of that myself. However, it’s not too late. Let’s see. There
are five of us. If we all go over to the supplies and sleep tonight
around a campfire, taking turn and turn about at standing watch,
that would be the best way except for one thing. It would leave our
tents unguarded again. No, that won’t do. What can anybody suggest?”
“Oh, I guess one man would be enough to stand guard,” said Bob.
“They’d hardly try any tricks, if they found we were on our toes
about the matter.”
“A good thing we took our rifles with us,” said Frank. “If they had
been stolen, then we would have been out of luck. Why, they could
just pot us one after the other.”
“On second thought,” said Mr. Hampton, “I don’t believe it will be
necessary to guard the supplies ourselves. If Mabele had any of the
men with him, they’d have stolen our things during our absence, just
as he took the radio. The fact that nothing but the radio was stolen
indicates to me that he was operating alone. No, we’ll chance his
stealing from us. He couldn’t get much, anyway. But I will put
several of those older men who stayed in camp and refused to disobey
orders on guard. They’re steady fellows, and will afford sufficient
protection. Isn’t there one of them. Bob, who you told me
understands a revolver?”
“Yes, that fellow Samba. He used to be a British colonial soldier.”
“The one we were talking to tonight?” asked Frank.
“The same,” said Bob. “By the way, Mr. Hampton, he’d be a good man
to make ‘straw boss’ now that Mabele has left.”
“Right you are,” said Mr. Hampton. “Suppose you step over and call
him.”
Bob readily complied, Frank again accompanying him. They found Samba
and his mates sunk in slumber. Nor had the bearers who had gone to
the village yet returned. Samba was awakened, and followed them back
to the tent.
Mr. Hampton told him that Mabele was a thief and had run away after
first disobeying orders by letting all the bearers who wanted to do
so go to the village celebration. Then he promised to elevate Samba
to Mabele’s post. After that he armed him with a revolver, laying
strict injunctions on him that he was not to use it except in case
of attack, and sent him to guard the supplies the balance of the
night.
The stalwart black’s eyes gleamed as, after first handling the
weapon in a manner which showed he was accustomed to it, he thrust
it into his waist band holding up a long pair of cotton trousers.
“Me un’erstan’, sar,” he said. And giving a smart military salute,
he clicked his bare heels, or rather brought them together with a
thud. Then he spun about and went out.
“A good man,” said Mr. Hampton. “How’d you learn about him, Bob?”
The big fellow grinned.
“Oh, you know how,” he said. “I can’t explain it. But I expect I
have a faculty for making friends.”
Such a faculty, indeed, Bob had. And it is an invaluable one. He was
sometimes described by Frank fondly as “the original democrat.”
“That boy,” Frank would say on such occasions, “makes friends with
every Tom, Dick and Harry he meets. He never draws any social or
color lines. Just interested in people from the human side, I
suppose.”
Mr. Hampton smiled and shook his head slightly. Then yawning
mightily, he arose.
“Well, Niellsen, we may as well retire. Tomorrow will be a big day.”