Tahara: Among African Tribes Part 29

"Well, I'm not!" cried d.i.c.k. And he shouted back to his followers.

"Forward men! Let's go!"

The warriors let out their horses and on approaching the cleared s.p.a.ce they scattered among the open trees and charged in from different angles. Before d.i.c.k's eyes was what he expected, from Mutaba's description: the _Meteorite_ crashed and helpless.

Instantly he guessed what had happened.

Slythe had landed there with his prisoners whom he had taken to Mobogoma's camp. Then after being driven out he had tried to escape with Professor Oakwood, his remaining captive, and had crashed on the take-off.

As d.i.c.k neared the plane he could see Jess working about it, while his father, tied by the wrists, sat on the ground, looking very wretched and hopeless. No Arabs were in sight.

"Don't worry, Dad! Your troubles are over!" shouted d.i.c.k as he galloped forward, while behind him thundered the hoofs of his rescue party.

The professor gave a great shout of delight. Jess Slythe cursed and drew his revolver, firing wildly, but the range was too great. He emptied his gun without effect and before he could reload, the tribesmen were almost upon him, yelling and brandishing their weapons.

Already arrows were whistling about his ears, as the riders shot from the saddle and Jess Slythe saw that his only chance for safety was in flight. Cursing like a madman he waved his empty gun at the riders, then dashed for his own horse and put spurs to it.

"After him, men!" shouted d.i.c.k, and he saw the riders hot in pursuit.

But as for himself, he was not so keen to overtake Jess Slythe as to hold his father in his arms.

Out of the saddle he leaped and the next instant he was embracing the old man and laughing, almost crying in excitement.

"Oh, Dad, this is wonderful!"

"My boy! My boy!" the older man exclaimed, and after giving d.i.c.k a big hug he held him off at arm's length and surveyed him.

d.i.c.k made a splendid showing in his garb of a savage king, clad in the skin of a wild beast and carrying primitive weapons, and his father was proud of him as well as astonished.

"I always trusted you to come out all right!" he exclaimed. "Rex Carter said I did wrong to let you run loose in Africa, but I told him you were able to take care of yourself better than most men."

"But at that, you never expected to hear of me crowned with the ancient diadem of the Taharans and Gorols," laughed d.i.c.k. "Say Dad, what do you think! I found a Hindu wise man who says that crown was once owned by King Solomon himself."

Professor Oakwood did not try to laugh off this story. Instead he answered seriously, "There are more strange things in the wilds of Africa than I ever dreamed of. I must talk to your wise man."

The father and son had much to say to each other. The professor explained how Jess Slythe had tried to fly with him that morning but the plane had made a faulty take-off and crashed before it got far from the ground.

"And Jess had a stiff row with the Arab scoundrel, Abdul," said Professor Oakwood. "That's why the Arabs left in a huff, and Jess was trying to patch up the plane."

Dan and Ray had joined the party now, while most of the tribesmen gathered about, staring at the damaged _Meteorite_. One by one, the men who had been pursuing Jess Slythe returned. The clever scoundrel had given them all the slip, and as he was mounted on a fresh horse, there was little chance of catching up with him.

"Give it up as a bad job!" observed Dan. "Say, I'll meet that crook some day and, boy! How I'll make him suffer!"

"He will be punished sooner or later," said Professor Oakwood. "No villain escapes in the long run. Sometimes the penalty is delayed, but somehow, sometime, the evil-doers pay for their wickedness."

"Is that why you never get excited, Dad?"

"Yes, d.i.c.k, I am philosophic about life. Believing as I do, I can take things as they come."

"You and the Mahatma would have a lot to talk about," said Dan eagerly.

"Say, that wise old bird has everything all figured out. He's wonderful!"

Ray laughed.

"Dan is funny," she said. "First he disbelieves everything, but once he is convinced, he swallows all he is told."

"Oh, come now, Ray," exclaimed her brother. "You should be the first to admit that Old Santa Claus--I mean the Mahatma--is the real thing.

Why, without him we would have been killed by the savages and you would not have been rescued."

Dan went on to explain the Hindu's power to send his thoughts through s.p.a.ce and to control animals by his mysterious gift.

"Seeing is believing!" laughed Ray. "When I actually _see_ all that, I'll believe it."

But Professor Oakwood was inclined to take the Mahatma seriously. "I am anxious to talk to this wise man from the East," he said. "There is nothing I should like better than to learn more about his occult power."

"You will have the chance today," said d.i.c.k. "He is waiting for us at the camp."

"That's where you're wrong," said Dan. "Some mysterious power tells me that he is on his way here."

He gravely closed his eyes, placed one hand on his forehead and raising the other one spread his fingers rapidly and closed them again.

"Hocus-pocus! Abracadabra! Now-you-see-it. Now-you-don't! Here comes the Mahatma now!"

Ray saw a suspicious twitch at the corner of her brother's mouth and cried, "Dan Carter, you're spoofing us!"

d.i.c.k looked hastily in the direction of the jungle trail by which they had come and saw figures moving through the trees.

"Say, you foxy rascal!" he exclaimed. "It's easy to guess what 'mysterious power' told you that the Mahatma is on the way. It was just good eyesight!"

Sure enough, the litter bearers were now at the edge of the clearing and the Hindu could be seen plainly moving toward them.

"I told you so!" cried Ray. "All this crystal gazing and the other miracles can be explained just as easily. I bet the Mahatma has been laughing at you all the time."

Both d.i.c.k and Dan paid no attention to her outburst. Already they were running to meet the old man, whom they regarded as their benefactor, and soon they were leading him in triumph to the plane where Professor Oakwood was standing.

d.i.c.k introduced his father and the two elderly gentlemen shook hands.

They were totally different in appearance, the professor so spare and erect with thin, alert features and the Mahatma, stout, even pudgy, with his flowing beard and dark intelligent eyes.

"I am grateful to you for helping us out of a great danger," said Professor Oakwood. "My son tells me that you have used your strange science to save our lives."

"I know but little," said the Mahatma gravely, "but what little knowledge I have is at your service."

"How can I ever repay you?"

"Your son has offered to repay me a thousand times over," replied the Mahatma. "When he shows me the ancient crown, engraved with symbols of knowledge, I shall be the happiest man in the world."

"That's right," d.i.c.k cried. "I'll take you back to the land of the Gorols. That's where the crown is guarded."

"It's going to be a long hard trek for a fat man," blurted Dan. Then he blushed and stammered, "Excuse me! You're not so _terribly_ fat!

What I mean is, it's a hot trip across the desert. I minded it myself."

The Mahatma smiled. "Don't apologize, my son! And have no fear about the long journey, for my crystal tells me that we shall fly there through the air."