第 24 页

Just five minutes later all doubt on the matter was removed. The tunnel came to an abrupt ending, and so did the hopes of the fugitives.

They checked themselves on a bar of sand that terminated amid lapping wave and creamy foam.

Straight ahead, as far as the gleam of the lamp would reach, was black, empty air, and blacker water.

To right and left, the sides of the tunnel, now walls of natural rock, ran out a yard or two, and then fell sheer into the water. A cat could not have scrambled around either extremity.

In bitter and silent despair, the little group stood for some time, looking sadly out on the grave of their hopes.

It was a stunning blow, and it had fallen like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.

"Fate is against us," said Bun bury, in a hollow voice. "After all we have suffered and endured, we must die in the end. From here there is no escape."

"I won't believe it!" Arthur cried hotly. "We found a way before, and we will do it again."

"We can swim," added Roden.. "You forget that, Bunbury."

"I fear swimming will be of little avail, my poor boys," said Fanshawe. "What lies before us is the subterranean water-passage. We have struck it, as nearly as I can calculate, about a half-mile from the village. The outlet to the lake is three or four miles distant in the opposite direction."

"I'm sure I can swim it," exclaimed Roden.

"And so am I," Arthur added.

"Under ordinary circum[s]tances you might," said their father, "but in this case the attempt would be suicide. There is no current to aid you, and the water is icily cold. The subterranean channel is infested with large and ferocious water-serpents, and out in the lake there are crocodiles. No, my boys, we must face the worst."

"And that means death by starvation," muttered Bunbury. "It's hard — bitterly hard."

For a moment there was silence, except for the soft splash of the waves on the sand. Then Fanshawe turned, staggered back a few feet, and put the lamp down on a bit of rock.

The fast-fading radius of dull light revealed a small square box, rotten and falling apart with age, that lay close under the right-hand wall of the tunnel.

Arthur was the first to see it, and as he dropped on his knees and eagerly clutched the box, it crumbled to dust in his hands, letting out upon the sand a shower of dully-gleaming stones of all sizes and colors.

The lad uttered a cry of amazement, which was echoed by his companions. All plunged their hands into the shining heap.

"Jewels of priceless value," gasped Bunbury. "Here is a king's ransom — diamonds, rubies, carbuncles, sapphires."

"And more than a quart of them!" shouted Roden.

"How could they have come here?"

"It is the secret of the fort- builders," declared Fanshawe. "They left the stones here ages ago. They were dug from the mines beyond the kraal. What a mockery that we should find them at such a time! They cannot purchase us one scrap of food — not one moment of life!"

These words broke the spell — shattered the dream of wealth. It was bitterly true. To the little group who were in the shadow of death the precious stones were so much dirt.

Bunbury muttered a few hoarse words under his breath, and after that there was silence.

The flame of the lamp-wick faded to a smoking spark, and then went entirely out, leaving the scene in black darkness.

A little later a strange noise suddenly rose above the stillness —a soft, steady, splashing sound that seemed to be coming nearer and nearer.

"What's that?" exclaimed Roden, in a frightened tone.

"One of those big water-serpents, most likely," whispered Bunbury.

"No, it's a canoe, Fanshawe declared, in a low, eager voice. "More Karibegs are on their way to the kraal, for the sound comes from the direction of the lake."

"If we could only capture the craft," Bunbury muttered longingly.

"Hush! not so loud," whispered Fanshawe. "We'll try to do it, I hear but two paddles, so the canoe can't have many occupants. It will pass close to this shore, and when it comes opposite us we will attack it."

"In the dark?" questioned Arthur.

"Do you mean that we shall swim out?" added Bunbury.

"Have your pistols ready," was Fanshawe's reply. "When the canoe is straight out from us I will give the signal by striking a match. You must fire at once, and aim to kill. Then we will dash at the canoe, and capture it."

"It's a daring plan," said Bunbury.

"But the only chance of saving our lives," answered Fanshawe. "It must succeed, Now you understand. No more talking or we will spoil the plot. Be ready for the signal."

The steady dip of paddles was indeed coming nearer as Bunbury and the boys ranged themselves in a line at the water's edge.

Each had his revolver in his hand, cocked and loaded for the anticipated struggle.

A sudden idea occurred to Fanshawe. He groped for the lamp, picked it up, and shook it at his ear. As he had surmised, a quantity of oil yet remained. The wick was evidently too short to reach.

He hastily tore a strip from the ragged flannel shirt that be wore under his skins, and pulling out the wick he tied the addition to it.

He squeezed the wick back, and took up his position at the right of his companions. In one hand he held the lamp, and in the other he grasped a couple of matches.

Closer and closer came the splash of the paddles, the intervals between showing that the canoe was moving slowly and leisurely. Moreover, it was evidently going to pass within a short distance of the mouth of the tunnel.

The occupants, whether many or few, were strangely silent. Not the faintest whisper of a human voice floated through the subterranean water-passage.

When the nerves of the waiting and listening group were strained to their utmost tension, the dip of the paddles suddenly sounded twice as loud.

"Ready now," whispered Fanshawe, and that quickly be scraped a match, and touched it to the wick of the lamp, which flared up brightly.

The canoe was instantly seen, ten feet out from the beach. Bunbury and the boys took hasty aim. They hesitated a brief moment, for their eyes were dazzled by the sudden light.

It was well that they did so. Just as they were in the act of pulling trigger they were amazed to see that the occupants of the canoe were only two in number, and that they were white men!

There was a sharp cry from Fanshawe, and a loud shout rang over the water.

"Stop! stop!" yelled Arthur, lowering his own weapon, and striking Roden's down.

Bunbury's pistol went harmlessly off in the air, and amid the smoke and confusion that followed the canoe was veered around and driven hard against the beach.

Two bronzed and bearded men leaped out. The fore most was none other than Godfrey Congdon, and with a hoarse cry of joy he clasped the outstretched hands of Arthur and Roden.

It was like the coming back to life of the dead, and the scene that ensued was assuredly the most thrilling that had ever taken place under the mighty vault of the subterranean stream.

It was a long while before the little band could realize their great happiness. They could only clasp hands, and look at one another in the yellow lamplight.

It was another joyful surprise when Godfrey introduced his companion as Captain Hugh Benstone, the long- lost explorer.

There was no time now for explanations. The lamp could not be depended upon much longer, and at any moment a fleet of Karibegs might come along from either direction.

After carefully gathering up the precious stones, the party embarked in the canoe, which was amply large enough, and was provided with three extra paddles.

A journey of little more than an hour brought them safely to the outlet of the passage about three o'clock in the morning, and they struck directly across the lake.

Late in the afternoon they stopped on a small island, from which land was faintly visible far to the west ward.

Here they concluded to spend the night, since Godfrey and Captain Benstone had a supply of food sufficient for several meals.

While they ate a hearty supper under the soft rays of the setting sun, Bunbury and the boys told the thrilling story of their meeting with the white king, and how they had escaped from the fort.

Then Captain Benstone narrated a woful [sic] tale of suffering and adventure, and Godfrey followed with the stirring recital of his struggle with the waves after plunging from the balloon.

He was picked up by Captain Benstone, who himself had just escaped in a canoe from a month's captivity among a portion of the Karibegs. As he was a thin man, they had prolonged his life that long in order to fatten him up.

"We didn't expect ever to see you again," concluded Godfrey, nodding at Bunbury and the boys. "Benstone knew about the white king and the water- passage to the kraal, and we were bound there on a spying ex pedition when we ran against you at the mouth of the tunnel. And now I think our troubles are over. Tomorrow, God willing, we'll strike for the Congo, which Benstone says is within easy reach by water."

Godfrey was not quite right, for numerous adven tures and perils befell the little band after that night's camp on the island.

In their trusty canoe they traveled by water for week after week, often stopping to portage around a course of falls or rapids.

From the outlet of the lake they came finally to the Mabongo River, a tributary of the Congo, and then to the mighty Congo itself.

And one never-to-be-forgotten day they reached the sea in safety and health, and after a tedious wait at a Belgian settlement they took steamer for England.

In London, where their arrival made a great sensation, the party split in two, for Bunbury, Godfrey and Captain Benstone were now on their native soil.

Here the mystery that had always attached to Godfrey was cleared up. He came to his friends with a letter in his hands.

"It's a summons to come home," he said. "I went to exile in America with the shadow of dishonor on my name. I was innocent, but I couldn't prove it without implicating a friend. He died two months ago, and left a written confession. My people live in Yorkshire, and I'm going there at once."

He wanted Lucius Fanshawe and he boys to accom pany him, but they were too anxious to see their native land. They waited only long enough to dispose of the jewels, which realized a large amount of money.

As Godfrey and Captain Benstone had independent means, they refused to accept a penny, and with great difficulty Bunbury was induced to take his share.

Lucius Fanshawe and his brave sons returned to the United States in possession of an ample fortune, and here we must leave them, assured of a happy and prosperous future.

Some day, perhaps the fever of unrest will enter into their veins, and urge them to revisit the Dark Continent. But assuredly they will never venture back to the land of the cannibal Karibegs, and the mystery of the ancient fort-builders will remain a mystery until the end of time.

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THE END