第 12 页

"Then, when I did get near, the boat struck a rock, and the rotten bottom went like paper. I had to swim for it, but the cold water did me good, and I feel all right. I haven't any idea now how far I drifted."

"It doesn't matter much," replied Godfrey, after he had taken a long drink. "It was Providence that brought you and me together, and I feel it in my bones that we're going to get out of this scrape. We'll go back, to the hillock, and build a roaring fire, and it's ten to one Bunbury and Roden will drop along after awhile — either on foot or in the balloon."

"Dear old Roden!" said Arthur. "Won't he be glad to find me alive?"

"He won't be much gladder than I was," answered Godfrey, in a suspiciously husky voice. "Here, put this down your throat."

He made Arthur drink what little brandy was in the flask, and then he filled it up with water.

As they rose to their feet, and glanced carelessly up and down the stream, they saw a sight that shattered their peaceful sense of security, and filled their hearts with chilling fear.

The moon was now up, and less than a quarter of a mile to the westward, where the river's channel narrowed, the silvery light shone on a group of dusky figures, wading out from the opposite shore.

"The negroes!" cried Arthur. "they have followed the boat, and seen me land. Now they are coming across."

"That's about it, lad," muttered Godfrey. "Yonder is a fording place. Still I doubt if they actually saw you reach the shore."

"There is just one chance of escape," he added. "We must wade downstream in the shallow water, so as not to leave any tracks. It would be madness to strike across the plain, for there are sandy spots where our footprints would show."

"It's a good plan," replied Arthur. "The negroes may think that I am drowned when they find the half sunken boat."

"Hardly that," said Godfrey, "but they will likely waste time in tracking my steps backward. At first, they won't suspect our ruse."

"And suppose we don't succeed in throwing them off the trail?" Arthur questioned anxiously.

"Then we've got to push for yonder mountains as fast as we can travel," answered Godfrey. "It's the only place where we can find any sort of shelter. Come, lad, we're losing precious time."

With a hasty glance at the bloodthirsty blacks, who were now breast-deep in midchannel, the fugitives waded several feet into the water, and splashed downstream over the pebbly bottom.

In this tedious manner, they traveled fully half a mile; crouching low under the overhanging fringe of reeds. Then they ventured out of the water, and as they planted their feet on shore, they heard savage cries ringing faintly in their rear.

As the rain and mist blotted out Godfrey and his giraffe, the balloon, now with only two occupants, ascended rapidly to a great height. Soon it left the storm belt, and the sunny, blue sky was seen overhead.

* * *

Chapter XVIII

Bunbury and Roden were stupefied by this second misfortune. Instead of keen sorrow, they felt a sort of dull despair. Their sensibilities seemed to be numbed. At that time they would have cared little had the car upset and pitched them to the ground.

For some minutes they stared with unseeing eyes at each other, and into the surrounding blue ether.

Higher and higher rose the balloon, until the atmosphere was rare and biting.

At length Bunbury roused a little from his lethargy, and looked pityingly at his companion.

"The balloon is not ascending now," he said. "We are keeping an even altitude, at a height of nearly three-quarters of a mile. What a day this has been! Only this morning we were hundreds of miles away on the island below Khartoum. Since then, we have lost your brother and my brave fellow-countrymen, and now are speeding far out of our course."

"Out of our course?" exclaimed Roden, with a sudden show of interest. "Which way?"

"Straight northwest," replied Bunbury. "The wind has changed since the storm."

"Then it means that we will never reach the country of the Karibegs," said Roden, in a tone of bitter despair. "What have we done that we should encounter such misfortunes?"

"Hush, lad!" protested Bunbury. "We are in the hands of Providence. All may come well yet."

"My brother will not come back to life," said Roden. "A little while ago, I felt that I could bear even that, because there was a chance of finding and saving my father — something to live for. Now, poor Godfrey's gone, and every minute is taking us farther away from where my father is a prisoner. It is hard — bitterly hard.

"But our luck may shift around to good luck before we are many hours older," answered Bunbury. "The storm is over, and were it not for the twilight, we could see the earth. Within the next twenty-four hours the wind is likely to veer in all directions. It may bring us directly back on our old course."

"And then we will find Godfrey?" exclaimed Roden, in a brighter tone.

"Very likely, lad, I don't think he will come to any harm. He has sense enough to roll off the giraffe when he is out of reach of the fire."

"But why not descend now, and go back to look for him?"

"That would be impracticable, for two reasons," replied Bunbury. "In the first place, night has fallen, and an attempt to land would be extremely dangerous. In the second place, we have already traveled some miles. Look! even from so great a height, the burning scrub is not visible."

"Yes, you are right," assented Roden. "I understand. Our only chance, then, is a change of wind?"

"Exactly. And that we are reasonably sure to have before many hours."

"I hope Godfrey will be found," said Roden, who was beginning to share his companion's views, "and I still have a faint hope that Arthur is alive."

"Banish it, lad," replied Bunbury kindly. "Banish it at once. Believe me, I speak for your own good."

"I know you do," said Roden. "I appreciate it, but it is hard to realize that he is dead. Poor Arthur!"

There was silence for a time. With a wan, haggard face, Roden stared into the black night.

"This won't do," said Bunbury at length. "We are entirely too high up. Breathing is absolutely difficult."

He pulled the valve-cord, and let the gas escape at intervals until the balloon had dropped to within a thousand feet of the earth, the surface of which could now be vaguely seen.

Then he prevailed upon Roden to eat a meager supper, and after that was over, the two wrapped themselves in blankets, and settled down in the bottom of the car, to enjoy what comfort was possible under the circumstances.

They were not in a mood to talk. Bitter and melancholy were their reflections as they whirled on through the night, listening to the singing of the breeze and the creaking of the strained cords that held the balloon fast to the car.

From time to time Bunbury glanced at his instruments, or took a peep at the misty earth.

Finally Roden dropped off to sleep, overpowered by sheer weariness and grief. He stirred and tossed con stantly, as though under the spell of troubled dreams. It was many hours later when he finally awoke, and sat up.

"Arthur! Godfrey!" he cried, looking around him. "Where are they?"

Then, with a bitter pang, he remembered.

"I forgot," he said. "I thought they were here. Is it morning yet? Has the wind changed?"

"The day will dawn in half an hour," replied Bunbury, "and the wind changed shortly after midnight, though not in just the right quarter."

"What then?" asked Roden.

"From the west, lad."We are now traveling east, with a fair prospect of an early veer around to the southeast or southwest."

This was good news, and Roden felt more cheerful as he rubbed his drowsy eyes.

"You have slept nearly the entire night," continued Bunbury. "Now we will have some biscuit and tinned meat, and a cup of hot coffee, to stimulate us for the events of the day."

"But you have not slept," said Roden, in a tone of self-reproach.

"'I don't feel the need of it," was the reply. "I am as fresh as you are."

In a short time Bunbury had the coffee boiling on the spirit-lamp, and breakfast was eaten with a keen relish.

By then a streak of dusky gray light was visible on the eastern horizon, and as the aeronauts leaned over the side of the car, they saw presently a sight that caused them to forget their grief and anxiety.

The gray streak widened and spread until it gave way to a ruddy glow that drove the shadows off the face of the earth, and revealed a wonderful panorama of forests and plains, mountains and streams, as far as the eye could reach.

Then the great African sun came over the horizon, and the balloon skimmed along in the face of its hot, scorching rays at an altitude of five or six hundred feet.

"How far distant is the place where we lost Godfrey?" asked Roden.

"In the neighborhood of two hundred miles," Bunbury replied. I mean in a straight line. It is far more than that by the way we have come. We are moving slowly now. The wind will make a southerly turn by and by, mark my words."

A little later Roden called his companion's attention to a broad river, several miles ahead. Another good-sized stream could be seen pouring into it from the eastward.

Bunbury produced a pair of field-glasses, and took a long look. Then he lowered them and eagerly consulted his chart and compass.

"The Nile!" he exclaimed. "The great White Nile! And yonder tributary stream surely must be the River Sobat. It was at the junction of the two that Captain Benstone was besieged when he wrote his last letter."

"Then the country of the Karibegs is only three hundred miles to the southwest!" cried Roden.

"Exactly; unless I am mistaken in the locality. But we shall soon know."

Ten minutes latter the balloon soared across the White Nile, and as it came near the opposite shore, Bunbury let out enough gas to bring the ground within thirty feet.

Then he cast a grappling line overboard, and the hook speedily caught in a clump of thick scrub. The rope ladder was lowered, and the aeronauts descended. They now stood within fifty yards of the junction of the two rivers.

Bunbury led the way through tall grass and bushes, that were intersected by a multitude of. well- trodden paths, as though the locality was a drinking resort for wild beasts. He and Roden had revolvers thrust in their belts.

Presently they emerged from the bushes on a sandy triangle, close to the water. Here they were con fronted by horrifying and unmistakable evidence that the spot was indeed the scene of Captain Benstone's last stand.

Trace of a rude fortification, made of sand and scrub, were yet visible. Both inside and outside the broken ramparts were white and shining skeletons, all that was left of the besieged and besiegers who had perished.

Empty cartridge shells were scattered about in profusion, and here and there lay broken guns, and a pistol or two. But there was nothing else. A great heap of charred embers showed that the worthless luggage of the ill-fated party had been burnt by the victors.

Bunbury and his companion gazed on the scene of desolation and bloodshed with thrilling emotions and fiery indignation.

"I can imagine what happened here five months ago," said Roden. "Poor Captain Benstone! He must have died fighting."

"I'm not sure that he died at all," replied Bunbury, who was poking among the dry bones. "In fact, I'm positive that his remains are not here. Look, lad, every skeleton has attached to it either a girdle of cotton cloth or a white burnoose, which proves that the besiegers were Arabs and negroes combined. Benstone's force were negroes, and he was the only white man. But there is no skeleton here in uniform — none that can be Benstone's."

"Then what could have become of him?" asked Roden.

"He either escaped or was held prisoner," replied Bunbury, "and the latter is most probable. I have a strong conviction that we shall find and rescue him before many days have passed. But come, lad, we have lingered too long in this uncanny place."

Sick at heart they turned away, and entered the bushes. When they had gone more than half the distance back, Bunbury suddenly uttered a low cry, and clutched Roden's arm in a grip like iron.

"Down, lad," he whispered hoarsely. "Down for your life. Of all our misfortunes, this is the worst."

The warming command was so sudden and unexpected that Roden stood as one dazed for an instant, and Bunbury had to drag him forcibly down.

* * *

Chapter XIX

"What is it?" exclaimed the youth, in a low tone.

"Is the balloon gone? Are we in danger?"

"Lift your head a little and look," was Bunbury's hoarse reply. "Be very careful."

Roden slowly raised his eyes to a level with the top of the bushes, and what he saw struck a chill of dread and despair to his heart.

On the space under the balloon stood a dozen fierce-visaged Arabs, wrapped in dingy white cloaks, and with rifles strapped over their backs. They had taken hold of the grappling line, and were hauling the car slowly down. Their exclamations of wonder could be plainly heard.

"We'll be in a nice fix if we lose the balloon," said Roden. "How would it do to go boldly up and demand it? The Arabs might not molest us, for they look like the same sort of fellows one sees at civilized places on the coast."

"That's the worst of it," replied Bunbury. "These are slave-raiders, and they hate all white-men like poison. It would never do to trust to their mercies."

He hesitated a moment, as he crouched down in the thicket, and then his brow knitted with a sudden re solve.

"I'm going to try a desperate thing," he added, "but it's our last chance, and if we fail, we can't be much worse off than we are now."

"What is it?" asked Roden.

For answer, Bunbury lifted his revolver, and fired three rapid shots in the air.

"This way, lad," he whispered. "Quick! we must make a detour. Stick to my heels."