THE DECISION
"Critch!" shouted Burt, unable to restrain his amazement. His parents
looked equally incredulous and Mr. Wallace explained with a smile.
"Yes, Howard Critchfield. You see, I'd like to bring back some skins and
things but I detest the beastly work of getting them off and putting
them in shape. So when I found that Critch was no slouch at taxidermy
and only needed the chance, it occurred to me to take him along. I saw
his father about it and proposed to pay all his expenses and a small
salary. Mr. Critchfield came around after a little. He saw that it would
be a splendid education for the boy--would give him a knowledge of the
world and would develop him amazingly."
"Why didn't Critch tell me about it?" cried Burt indignantly.
"He didn't know!" laughed his uncle. "His father and I agreed that we'd
let him get safely through school without having other things to think
of. Now look at the thing sensibly, you folks. We wouldn't be away
longer than six months at most. Burt would be in far more danger in his
canoe on the Kennebec than in a big steamer on the Congo."
"But after you leave the steamer? You can't shoot ivory from the boat, I
presume," protested Mr. St. John.
"And what about snakes and savage tribes?" put in his wife.
"My dear Etta," replied the explorer patiently, "we will be near few
savage tribes. I might almost say that there are none. As for snakes,
I've seen only three deadly ones in all the years I've spent in Africa.
After we leave the steamer, Tom, we'll get out of the jungles into the
highlands. Burt stands just as much chance of getting killed here as
there. An auto might run over him any day, a mad dog might bite him or a
chimney might fall on him!"
For all his anxiety Burt joined heartily in the laugh that went up at
his uncle's concluding words. The laughter cleared the somewhat tense
situation, and the discussion was carried into the library. Burt saw,
much to his relief, that his father was not absolutely opposed to the
trip, although his mother seemed anxious enough.
"Now give us your proposition, George," said his father as they settled
down around the table. "What's your definite idea about it?"
"Good! Now we're getting down to cases!" cried the explorer with a smile
at his sister. "Burt, get us that large atlas over there." Burt had the
atlas on the table in an instant. "Let's see--Africa--here we are. Get
around here, folks!" As he spoke Mr. Wallace pulled out a pencil and
pointed to the mouth of the Congo River.
"Here's the mouth of the Congo, you see. Here we step aboard one of the
State steamers. These are about like the steamers plying between New
York and Boston. Following the Congo up and around for twelve hundred
miles, roughly speaking, we come to the Aruwimi river. Up this--and here
we are at Yambuya, the head of navigation on the Aruwimi. From here
we'll go on up by boat or launch for three or four hundred miles
farther, then strike off after elephants."
"But how do you get down there in the first place?" asked Mr. St. John,
who seemed keenly interested.
"Any way you want to!" returned the explorer. "There are lines running
to Banana Point or Boma, the capital, from Antwerp, Lisbon, Bordeaux,
Hamburg, or from England. We'll probably go from England though."
"My gracious!" said Burt's mother. "I had no idea that the Congo was so
near civilization as all that! Are there real launches away up there in
the heart of Africa?"
"Launches? Automobiles, probably!" laughed her husband.
"Of course," agreed Mr. Wallace. "There are motor trucks in service at
several points. We could even take the trip by railroad if we wished,
and we'll telegraph you direct when we reach there!"
"Well that's news to me!" declared Mr. St. John. "I thought that Central
Africa was a blank wilderness filled with gorillas and savages. Seems to
me I remember something about game laws in Roosevelt's book. How about
that?"
"There are stringent laws in Uganda and British East Africa," replied
Mr. Wallace. "But I intend to depend on trade more than on shooting for
my ivory. Now look at this Makua river that runs west, up north of the
Aruwimi. I'm not going to take any chances on being held up at Boma
after getting out. There are several trading companies who'd be tickled
to death to let me bring out a bunch of ivory and then rob me of it at
the last minute. So we're going right up to the Makua and down that
river to the French Congo. I've got a mighty strong pull with the French
people ever since they made me a Commander of the Legion of Honor for my
Sahara explorations."
"I see." Burt's father gazed at the map reflectively then looked up with
a sudden smile. "You say 'we' as if it was all settled, George!"
"Oh, I was talking about young Critchfield and myself," laughed the
explorer. "Come now, Etta, doesn't it sound a whole lot more reasonable
than it did at first?"
"Yes," admitted his sister. "I must say it does. Especially if it is all
so civilized as you say."
"Now look here." Mr. Wallace bent over the map again and traced down the
Congo to Stanley Falls. "A railroad runs from here over to the Great
Lakes, at Mahagi on the Albert Nyanza. The Great Lakes are all connected
and have steamer lines on them, so that you can get on a train or boat
at the west coast and travel right through to the east coast just like
going from New York to Duluth. Get me?"
"Why," exclaimed Burt, "I thought you had to have porters and all that?
Can you just hop on a train and shoot?"
"Not exactly," laughed his uncle. "When we leave the Aruwimi we'll
probably take a hundred bearers with us."
"Well, it's not a question that we can decide on the spur of the
moment," announced Mrs. St. John. "We'll talk it over, George. If
conditions are as you say, perhaps--"
"Hurray!" burst out her son excitedly. "You've got to give in, dad!
Mother's on our side!" And Burt darted off to find his chum.
"The fact that you've won over Mr. Critchfield counts a good deal,"
smiled Mr. St. John as the door slammed. "He's a solid, level-headed
chap and, besides, I really think it might do Burt good."
Burt found his chum in a state of high excitement. Critch's father had
just told him about Mr. Wallace's proposal and his own qualified
consent.
"I'll have to think it over some more," he had said. "It's too big to
rush into blindly. As it stands, however, I see no reason why you
shouldn't go and make a little money, besides getting the trip."
Burt and Critch got an atlas and went over the route that Mr. Wallace
had traced. When Burt reported all that his uncle had said about
civilization in the Congo, Critch heaved a deep sigh.
"Seems 'most too good to be true," he said. "To think of us away over
there! I don't see where your uncle's going to clear up much coin,
though. It must cost like smoke."
"So does ivory," grinned Burt. He was in high spirits now that there
actually seemed to be some hope of his taking the trip. "He ain't
worried about the money. Say, I'm mighty glad I've been learning French!
It'll come in handy down there."
"You won't have any pleasure tour," put in Mr. Critchfield quietly. "Mr.
Wallace means business. He told me he meant to leave the whole matter
of skins and heads to you two chaps."
"Wonder what he wants them for?" speculated Burt. "Mebbe he's going to
start a museum."
"Hardly," laughed Mr. Critchfield. "He said he wanted to give them to
some Explorers' Club in New York. That means they'll have to be well
done, Howard. I want you to be a credit to him if he takes you on this
trip."
"I will." Howard nodded with confident air. "Just let me get a chance!
How's the scholarship? Hear anything yet?"
"Got her cinched," replied Burt happily. "Well, guess I'll get back. See
you to-morrow!"
For the next week the question of the African trip was left undecided.
When Burt had received his definite announcement of the scholarship,
dependent on his next year's work, Mr. Wallace urged that the matter be
brought to a decision one way or the other. On the following Saturday
evening Mr. Critchfield and Howard arrived at the St. John residence and
the "Board of Directors went into executive session," as the explorer
laughingly said.
"There's one thing to be considered," announced Mr. Critchfield. "That's
the length of your absence. Next year is Howard's last year in high
school and I wouldn't like his course to be smashed up." Mr. St. John
nodded approval and all looked at Mr. Wallace expectantly.
"I anticipated that," he replied quietly. "I saw Mr. Garwood, the
superintendent of schools, yesterday. I told him just what we wanted to
do and asked him about Burt's scholarship. School will not begin till
the twentieth of September. He said if you boys were back by November
and could make up a reasonable amount of work he'd make an exception in
your cases owing to your good records. I'm fairly confident that we'll
be back by November."
"I don't see how," interposed Mr. St. John. "I've been reading up on
Stanley's journeys in that country and--"
"Hold on!" laughed Mr. Wallace. "Please remember, Tom, that Stanley made
his trips in the eighties--nearly thirty-five years ago. Where it took
him months to penetrate we can go in hours and days. This is the end of
June. By the first of August we'll be steaming up the Congo. I don't
think it'll take us two months to cross from the Aruwimi to the Makua
and reach French territories. In any case, I intend to return direct
from Loango, a port in the French Congo. We'll come down the river under
the French flag in a French steamer, turn the corner to Loango and
there'll be a steamer there waiting to bring us and our stuff direct to
New York. I'm almost sure we'll be back by November."
"Even if we aren't," put in Howard, "it'll only throw us out half a
semester."
"Supposing they do miss connections, Critchfield," said Mr. St. John, "I
wouldn't worry. It is a great thing for the boys and perhaps an extra
six months in school won't do any harm. However, figure on getting
back."
"I guess it's up to you, Etta!" laughed Mr. Wallace. "What do you say?
Yes or no?"
As Burt said afterward, "I came so near havin' heart failure for a
minute that I could see the funeral procession." Mrs. St. John
hesitated, her head on her hand. Then looking up, her eye met Burt's and
she smiled.
"Yes--"
"Hurray!" Critch joined Burt in a shout of delight, while the latter
gave his mother a stout hug of gratitude.
"I don't know what we'll do here without you," she continued when freed.
"When will you start, George?"
"Since we have to be back by November," replied the explorer, "we'll
leave here Monday morning and catch the _Carmania_ from New York
Tuesday. I'll wire to-night for accommodations."
"Monday!" cried Mr. St. John in amazement. "Why, there'll be no time to
get the boys outfits or pack their trunks, or--"
"We don't want outfits or trunks, eh, Burt?" smiled Mr. Wallace. "The
comfort of traveling, Tom, is to be able to take a suit case and light
out for anywhere on earth in an hour. That's what we'll do. Wear a
decent suit of clothes, boys, and take a few changes of linen. We'll
reach Liverpool Friday night and London on Saturday. We'll get the
outfits there, and if we hustle we can pick up one of the African
Steamship Company's steamers Tuesday or Wednesday."
"But your book?" asked Mrs. St. John. "Is that finished?"
"Bother the book!" ejaculated her brother impatiently. "I'll write the
last chapter to-night and if the publishers don't like it they can
change it around to suit themselves. I'm going to Africa and I'm going
to leave New York Tuesday morning rain or shine!"
"That's the way to talk!" shouted Burt, wildly excited. "Good for you,
mother! I'll bring you back a lion skin for your den, dad!"
Had Burt been able to foresee just what lion skin he would bring back
and what he would pass through before he got it he might not have been
so enthusiastic over the prospect of his African trip.