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He stopped abruptly, and walked to the table. "Look!" he added, bending over the map. "Here is the junction of the White Nile and Sobat Rivers, where Hugh Benstone has probably met his death, and three hundred miles beyond dwells this cannibal tribe. To reach the latter place we had better start from Suakin, on the Red Sea. That will give us a journey of a thousand miles."

"So much as that?" exclaimed Roden.

"Yes, but we will do it on camels, and with a strong escort. Suakin is an admirable place for fitting out expeditions."

"It looks nearer from the west coast," suggested Arthur.

"True," replied Godfrey, "but there are more difficulties on that route. Now that the Mahdi is dead, the Soudan is safer than formerly. See, we will head straight for the southwest, passing within a hundred miles or so of Khartoum, where brave Gordon was slain in 1885. But I won't deny that all this will cost money."

"We will spend every cent," declared the boys.

"And the hardships and dangers will not be trifling," added Godfrey.

"We won't complain," cried Roden. "We will dare anything."

"We are used to roughing it," said Arthur. "We are strong and healthy."

"Yes, I think you will both do," replied Godfrey approvingly. "Oh, it quickens my blood to think of treading African soil again."

He refilled his pipe and pulled an easy-chair up to the table. Then, for hour after hour, he and his com panions planned and discussed every detail of the great expedition. The day slipped by unheeded, and at six o'clock they went out to dine together.

That night Roden left for Illinois, and during his absence Godfrey and Arthur went on with the prepara tions. On learning the circumstances, the employers of both lads readily consented to release them at once.

Roden returned in a week. He had been able to sell, at a slight sacrifice, the property of Martin Trant. This yielded the boys the sum of fifteen thousand dollars, which they at once turned into bills of exchange on London. They had saved enough money for present expenses.

They stored their books and furniture, and sailed with Godfrey for Southampton on a fast ocean liner. The 20th of June found them in London. During the week that they spent here Godfrey rarely stirred from the hotel, except at night. He had allowed his beard to grow, and wore a pair of gold eyeglasses.

He assured the boys that his desire to avoid recognition was in nowise connected with crime or dishonor, and they had confidence enough in him to believe this.

Under Godfrey's instructions Arthur and Roden purchased a vast quantity of supplies —- arms, ammunition, clothing, and trinkets for presentation to native potentates. They also turned their funds into drafts on an English banking firm at Suakin.

Re-embarking at Southampton on the P. and O. steamship Calcutta, our three heroes had a swift passage through the Mediterranean, and thence into the Red Sea. On the 7th of July they and their stores were put off at Suakin, and they trod with strange emotions the soil of Africa.

Godfrey knew just what to do, and without him the boys would have been helpless. He appealed to the British consul, who secured comfortable lodgings for the party and gave them all the assistance in his power.

Suakin was a sunburnt town of white walls and squalid streets, garrisoned by English and Egyptian soldiers. A few years before it had been the scene of much fighting, but now the Soudan was lost to the English, and no man knew what was taking place beyond the coast line. Occasional parties of mop-haired, naked Arabs —- Fuzzies, they were called —- still ventured within sight of the fortifications. But a hostile gunshot was rarely heard.

The population of the town was mixed, and before a week ended, Godfrey had enlisted a band of twenty Arabs and Somalis under the leadership of two English-speaking Arab sheiks. The names of the latter were Khalifa and Mugdi, and they had formerly served in the Egyptian army at Khartoum.

The balance of the supplies were laid in, and serviceable camels were purchased for the whole party. Roden and Arthur practiced for several days before they could ride these awkward beasts with any degree of ease or comfort.

Up to this time no further word had been received from Captain Benstone, and no doubt as to his fate existed.

The English officers at Suakin admitted the possibility of Lucius Fanshawe being the mysterious white man in the interior. Though full of sympathy for the boys, they prophesied the failure of the quest and the death of all concerned in it.

But this failed to shake the resolution of our heroes. The latter had the consolation of knowing that the expedition was strong and admirably equipped. All that money could do had been done.

At daybreak on July 16th the start was made, God frey and his companions leading the way with Khalifa and Mugdi. On a swift trot the hardy camels, each burdened with a rider and a quantum of baggage, passed through the town, and clear of the fortifications, and on into the bleak and sandy wilderness.

And no one in Suakin expected a single man or beast to return.

Day after day the expedition wound across the desert. Overhead was the burning, cloudless sky. On all sides lay bleak sandhills, and patches of withered vegeta tion, and outcroppings of volcanic rock.

* * *

Chapter III

By night there were only troubled snatches of sleep for the exhausted travelers. The camp was constantly guarded in expectation of an attack, since prowling groups of savage Arabs —- some on camels and some on foot —- had been frequently seen.

Roden and Arthur endured these hardships without a murmur of complaint, nor did they show a sign of physical weakness.

"One would think you lads had been campaigning under a tropical sun for years," said Godfrey. "If you stand this stretch of the journey all right, you won't have much to fear from the rest."

The morning of the sixth day found the travelers pressing on more rapidly than ever, with Suakin nearly two hundred miles in the rear.

They hoped to reach the Atbara River by evening, since their supply of water was nearly exhausted.

Throughout most of the morning a couple of dark specks kept parallel with the expedition at a distance of two or three miles to the westward. These spies —- for such they probably were —- disappeared about noon.

Godfrey's face wore a very sober and thoughtful expression as he jogged along between Arthur and Roden, and the boys ventured to ask if he feared anything.

"Not exactly," replied the Englishman; "only there's a possibility, you know, that word of our coming has reached Khartoum before this. The Mahdi's successor, whoever that is, may send a party to intercept us.

"Well, we can fight," said Roden. "A score of rifles ought to clean out a hundred of these black fellows with their spears and swords."

"Ay; but how about a thousand?" muttered Godfrey. "Ten times that number cut Hicks Pasha and his command to pieces in 1885.

"Don't he alarmed, my lads;" he added. "A day's march beyond the Atbara will put us out of reach of these devils. What I suggested was only a possibility, anyhow. We have come safely through the most dangerous stretch of desert."

The boys felt easier in mind, especially when they saw that neither Mugdi nor Khalifa appeared to be worried.

For hour after hour the long troop of camels and riders went swiftly across the scorching sand. At any moment the shining river might appear in the distance.

But about midafternoon the anxious watchers saw, instead of water, a sight that filled every heart with weird alarm.

On a hazy bank of clouds straight to the southwest there suddenly appeared a horde of dervishes, mounted on horses and camels. They were two or threescore strong, and their long, frizzled locks and gleaming arms showed plainly.

The travelers involuntarily halted, and deadly fear became rife among the superstitious Arabs and Somalis.

"A mirage!" cried Godfrey. "I never saw a clearer one. Look, it is fading already."

As he spoke, the wonderful scene grew dim, and the clouds began to melt away.

With few exceptions the party understood the nature of a mirage. They knew that the picture on the clouds was a real photograph —- that the band of dervishes had an actual existence somewhere on the vast desert.

The result was what might have been expected. When the command to start was given, the Arabs and Somalis obstinately headed their camels the wrong way. Mugdi and Khalifa faithfully tried to check the mutiny, but their efforts seemed vain.

At this critical moment Godfrey rode clear around the malcontents, and cut them off from the rear.

"Have you lost your heads and turned cowards?" he cried, in fairly good Arabic. "The dervishes are somewhere behind us, and you would madly rush to meet them. If we turn back toward Suakin we are lost. Our only chance of safety is to push ahead and cross the river."

This was sound reasoning, and when Khalifa and Mugdi spoke to pretty much the same effect, the mutineers allowed themselves to be persuaded. They reluctantly turned around, and a moment later the march to the southwest was resumed.

But in spite of his triumph, Godfrey was solemn, and quiet, and his depression was shared by his companions. The boys kept a keen watch in all directions as the sandhills rose and fell under the hoofs of the camels. The sun dropped lower and lower, and just at twilight the barren and treeless shore of the Atbara was reached.

To the weary band this meant safety, and their spirits rose as they dismounted. Men and camels scrambled to the water, and drank long and eagerly.

But a disappointment proved to be in store. The broad river was several feet above its normal height; and its current ran swiftly.

"The ford is impassable now," declared Khalifa. "If we try to cross we will be swept a way and drowned."

"There have been rains in the mountains of Abyssinia," added Mugdi. "The flood may rise yet higher."

"No; it is going down," exclaimed Roden, who had been examining the edge of the shore.

"The lad is right " said Godfrey. "What think you, Khalifa?"

The Arab made a personal inspection, and reported that the flood was indeed decreasing.

"By morning we may cross in safety," he added.

"Then we must wait patiently, and make the best of the situation," replied Godfrey. "We are as safe here as we would be anywhere this side of the river."

Godfrey's opinion was neither disputed nor con firmed, though more than one face looked gloomy and sullen. Indeed, there was no alternative, unless to brave the certain perils of the surging yellow flood.

Luckily an admirable spot for a fortified camp was found near by —- a semicircular ridge of sand, six feet high and fifty feet in diameter. Its open side abutted on the river, so that no enemy could attack from that direction.

Part of the inclosure was reserved for the camels, and their loads were taken off and utilized to heighten the barricade of sand.

The evening meal was prepared without a fire, and eaten amid gloomy silence. Then Godfrey distributed a number of rounds of ammunition to each man, and posted three Arab sentries outside the camp.

The guard was changed twice before midnight. Up to that hour Godfrey had remained awake and watchful. Now, since the moon was up and shining brightly, he felt satisfied that the crisis of danger was past. So he stretched himself wearily beside his companions.

An hour later all but the sentinels were asleep. The whole interior of the camp was filled with the motion less forms of men and camels. Silvery moon beams shone aslant the water and the trackless desert.

Clump! clump! clump! At first the sound was very faint, owing to the flow of the river. Then it grew nearer and louder, until it was blended into a sort of muffled roar.

Now the half-stupefied sentries heard it, and after listening for a moment, its meaning dawned upon their skilled ears. Instantly they tumbled into the camp, uttering shrill cries of alarm.

Godfrey's hand roused Arthur and Roden with no light touch. They sprang to their feet to find a scene of indescribable turmoil and confusion raging around them.

"Your rifles, lads," cried Godfrey. "The enemy are coming. Keep cool, and show them a bold front."

The boys tried to obey, but their hearts throbbed loudly, and they felt a choky sensation in their throats. Was this fear? they wondered.

There was no time to analyze the question. The confusion was partly over now, and a grim line of Arabs and Somalis stood expectantly behind the barricade.

Suddenly a dusky horde of camels and riders came in sight on the crest of a sandhill two hundred yards to the north. Swiftly they rode down the short slope, fourscore strong at the very least.

Reaching the base, they dismounted, and the riders advanced on foot —- a bloodthirsty, yelling troop of dervishes.

Soon the defenders of the camp could make out the naked bodies, and the frizzled locks, and the great spears and double-edged swords. Over the heads of the fanatics waved several of the standards of the dead El Mahdi —- yellow flags stamped with cross and Koran.

The next instant Mugdi and Khalifa gave the order to fire, and the whole line of the rampart became a sheet of flame and smoke.

Arthur and Roden stood up and fired with the rest, regardless of Godfrey's command to keep low. In the excitement of the moment all symptoms of fear vanished. The baptism of battle found them as brave as old veterans.

It was a deadly fire that raked through the dervishes, leaving great gaps in the ranks. The parched sand drank greedily of life blood, and made a soft bed for dead and dying.

But the fanatics surged on until they were close enough to send a cloud of spears into the camp. Two Arabs and a Somali went down in front of the boys, and Arthur felt a rush of fleet air past his head.

Half of the missiles fell among the camels, and the entire herd stampeded out of the camp, uttering shrill screams of fright and pain. A daring Arab, who tried to stop them was mangled under their hoofs.

This incident went almost unheeded. The plucky defenders of the camp never wavered for an instant. They kept up a steady rifle fire from every part of the rampart.

Above the din rang at intervals the shrill voices of Khalifa and Mugdi. Godfrey seemed to be everywhere at once.

"Aim low," he cried. "Make your bullets tell. They can't hold out long."

But still the dervishes pressed on, yelling like so many fiends. With utter disregard of death they filled up each gap in their front as quickly as it was made. Nearer and nearer carne the mass of savage faces, and overhead still fluttered the bullet-riddled standards of the Faith.