CHAPTER VII
A TRAITOR IN CAMP
It was a week later, and the launch having towed the expedition asfar up the river as Frank decided was necessary--before they struckout into the unknown land of the cannibals, winged men, and theivory hoard--had returned to civilization several days before,carrying with it letters from all the adventurers which they feltmight be the last they would write for some time. The spot selectedfor the permanent camp was a sort of park-like space covered at itsedges with masses of manioc and banana bushes. Beyond towered hugetropical trees and beyond these again the blue outlines of thedistant Moon Mountains in which, according to old Barr's map, laythe ivory cache.
It had been a busy week. The Golden Eagle II had been re-erectedand her own wireless and the field wireless apparatus put in order.As our readers who have followed this series are familiar with themanner of setting up the great Chester aeroplane and her fittings,it would be tedious to repeat the description of the process.Suffice it to say that thanks to the clever simplicity of the"knock-down" arrangement, by which the ship could be taken apart andset up again, the operation of equipping her for active work was acomparatively light one. The extra gasoline and supplies for thecamp in general were stored in a separate tent removed from thecircle in which the boys' tents and those of Ben Stubbs andProfessor Wiseman were pitched.
There was, too, a newcomer in the camp--a Portuguese named Diego deBarros. He was not a particularly well-favored individual, but hebore the reputation of having great power over the natives and ofbeing very friendly to the white traders who penetrated into theinterior. Once or twice there had been ugly talk about his being inleague with the Arab slave and ivory traders, but he had managed toclear his name and along the Ivory Coast enjoyed the reputation ofbeing an honest, reliable man. He had joined the boys' camp a fewdays before and his manner of coming was this.
While everybody was busy getting things in shape there had come aloud hail from the quarters of the native helpers, just outside thewhite man's encampment, announcing that a canoe was coming up theriver. All hands had hastened to the river bank to find de Barrosjust putting his foot ashore from the canoe in which two natives hadpaddled him from the coast. He had with him some bales of cottongoods and a few gewgaws of various kinds and was bound, so he said,on a trading expedition into the back country. Further down theriver he had heard, he explained, that the boys were camped where hefound them, and he had determined to pay them a visit. The briefstay that the boys had interpreted this as meaning, however, hadextended itself into three days and still Diego showed noinclination to leave.
"If he doesn't move on soon I shall be compelled to ask him to go,"said Frank in an annoyed tone to Harry. "I don't want to beinhospitable, but we can't afford to have strangers hanging roundthe camp, there is too much at stake."
Harry agreed with him and the two boys decided to tell the Portuguesethat evening as tactfully as possible that they were on a privateenterprise and could not accommodate strangers. This decisionarrived at, Frank turned to the steel strong box that was never outof his sight and drew from it the precious map of the Moon Mountains.Seated at the little camp-table--(the conversation just related hadtaken place in the Boy Aviators' tent)--the two pored over thedocument for hours. With dividers, compass and parallel rulers Frank,who was a skilled navigator, laid out an aerial course that wouldbring them, he calculated, unerringly to the spot marked by a redcross where--so old Luther Barr declared--lay the ivory that was tosave Mr. Beasley from financial ruin and disgrace.
Frank laid his finger on the spot and exclaimed enthusiastically:
"There it is, Harry, and we are not so far from it now. In a fewdays we shall know whether we are on a wild-goose chase or not."
"Why, no doubt has ever entered your head that the ivory is there?"questioned Harry.
"Well, old fellow, you know there are others interested in thisivory beside ourselves--Muley-Hassan for instance."
"You think he had got ahead of us?"
"I did not say I thought so, I only say that it is possible that hemay have done so."
"How could he have got wind of our coming?"
"In Africa there is a sort of underground wire for news," repliedFrank. "I have no doubt that hundreds of natives far in theinterior are by this time apprised of our coming."
Harry looked alarmed.
"That's bad," he said.
"Well, it couldn't be helped: but we may have other enemies nearerat hand."
"What do you mean?"
"That I don't like the looks of that Portuguese fellow. If he gotwind of what we are doing he would be likely to ruin the wholeobject of our expedition."
"That's so. We'll have to get rid of him."
"Well, we are going to, and if he won't go for gentle means we'lltry rough ones."
"Hullo, what's that?" exclaimed Harry suddenly.
The flap at the end of the tent toward which both of their backs hadbeen turned had been suddenly drawn aside and in one quick, backwardglance Harry made out the smiling figure of de Barros standing inthe doorway. It might have been fancy, but he thought for a minutethat the Portuguese had a peculiarly villainous expression on hisdark, handsome features.
"Ah, senors," he said, as Frank, with a quick movement swept the mapoff the table--but not before de Barros's quick eyes had spied it.Fearing to replace the precious chart in the strong box, while thePortuguese lingered, Frank tucked it into his pocket.
"Ah, senors, good afternoon," grinned the unwelcome visitor. "Ihave come to say 'adios.' I am going up the river to-night and maynot see you again for a long time."
"I am sorry to have you leave," said Frank with a heartfelt wishthat de Barros would hasten his departure.
"I knew you would be," smiled the Portuguese, "but it is the lot ofman to meet and part. Adios, senors, I go to make ready."
He vanished as suddenly as he had come upon the scene.
"What do you make of that?" inquired Harry.
"I don't know what to think. I have an idea that he was listeningto every word of our conversation just now and that he saw the mapbefore I had time to sweep it off the table."
Harry looked vexed.
"That's tough luck," he said. "If he overheard even a part of ourtalk he must realize the object of our presence in Africa. And," hewent on, "I don't know a man on the Dark Continent whom I wouldtrust less than Diego de Barros, even the little we've seen of him."
"It can't be helped now," said Frank briefly; "come on, let's go andput the finishing touches on the good old Eagle."
They worked the rest of the afternoon putting the big aeroplane inshape for her flight to the Moon Mountains which it had beendetermined to make the next day. It was almost dusk when Harry, whowas working over the engines, asked Frank for the reserve park-plugbox.
"It's in one of the canoes. I'll go and get it," said Frank, and atonce set off toward the river bank for that purpose. His path ledthrough a thick grove of bamboos which hid him from the view of thecamp after he had traversed a short distance. As he merged on theriver bank, whistling softly to himself, the young leader suddenlyfelt himself pinioned by arms that seemed of enormous strength--though,as the attack had come from behind, he could not see thefaces of his assailants. The next minute he was lying flat on hisback, bound and helpless with a bit of greasy cloth shoved in hismouth for a gag.
"Keep still, senor, and you shall not be hurt;" said a quiet voicenear at hand, and Frank saw bending above him the sallow features ofthe smiling Portuguese.
"I just have to trouble you for that map I saw you put in yourpocket, that is all," went on his captor, while the two huge negroeswho had made Frank prisoner stood to one side immovable as carvedfigures.
"It is lucky for me that you came down to the river bank," grinnedthe Portuguese as he ran his hand over Frank's clothes, to ascertainthe hiding-place of the precious map of the ivory cache, "otherwiseI should have had to delay my departure till to-night, and possiblyhave cu
t your throat while you slept."
Frank felt as if his heart would burst with rage and mortificationas the greasy, smiling Portuguese deliberately drew out thepriceless document and gazed at it in triumph. He laid it on theground beside him while lie resumed his search for other clues.
"That ivory belongs to my master--Muley-Hassan--now," he sneered;"did you think for a minute that we would ever let you white foolsget it back again."
It was well for the Portuguese that Frank's hands were not freethen. Had they been the dark-skinned traitor would have had a fighton his hands in a few seconds. But suddenly events took a strangeturn.
The two blacks uttered a sharp cry of warning as the bushes partedand a huge form dashed out, whirling about its head a glisteningaxe.
It was Sikaso!
The next minute would have been Diego's last but that his twofollowers lifted him to his feet and, picking him up like a child,ran for his canoe with him. With a few rapid strokes they were inmidstream and paddling up the river with powerful strokes whileSikaso raged impotently on the shore.
"Oh for one of the white men's fire-tubes!" he sighed, and even ashe spoke a sharp reminder of the efficiency of these same"fire-tubes" whizzed past his ear in the shape of a bullet fromDiego's revolver.
In a few steps the old black was beside his young leader and with acouple of strokes of his keen blade had set him free.
"Quick, Sikaso; the canoes--we must pursue him. Call the boys andBen while I cast off the canoes. Quick, we have not a minute tolose."
Although Diego in his hurry had not carried off the map but left itlying on the ground, still Frank realized that the Portuguese hadnot actually needed the document to aid Muley-Hassan to find thecache. The Arab was no doubt familiar with the location anyway, butto head off all danger of the boys getting there first, it was vitalto stop Diego at all costs. In a few bounds Frank reached thelittle indentation in the bank where the canoes were kept.
As he gained it he fell back with a groan and, brave boy as he was,he leaned weakly against a tree for support as the true extent ofthe crushing disaster that had occurred was borne in on him.
The canoes were gone!
The cunning rascal, Diego, had devised his plan well.
The painters of all the craft had been cut, and by this time theywere doubtless miles down the stream.
Boy Aviators in Africa; Or, an Aerial Ivory Trail Page 7