Part 25 (1/2)

As well as he was able Randolph Rover explained matters to d.i.c.k.

In the meantime, however, the youth had been looking around sharply and had noted several forms gliding back and forth in the gloom under the trees. d.i.c.k was more suspicious than ever.

”Uncle Randolph, I don't believe this man,” he said briefly. ”The story he tells is too unnatural.”

”I think so myself, d.i.c.k; but still--”

”Why didn't this man come straight to the house to tell us this?”

”I'm sure I don't know.”

”Ask him.”

Randolph Rover put the question to Captain Villaire. The Frenchman scowled deeply and shrugged his shoulders. ”I had my reason,” he said briefly. ”Will you come with me?”

Before Randolph Rover could answer there came a shout from behind several trees.

”Look out fo' yourselves!” came in Aleck's voice. ”Dis am a trap!”

”A trap!” repeated d.i.c.k, when of a sudden a half dozen men rushed at him and Randolph Rover and surrounded the pair. In a twinkle, before either could use his pistol, he was hurled flat and made a prisoner.

”Bind them, men,” ordered Villaire sternly. ”And bind them well, so that escape is impossible.”

”Run for the house, Aleck!” yelled, out d.i.c.k, before those on top of him could choke him off. ”Save Tom and Sam!

”I will!” came from the faithful black. And off he sped at top speed, with three or four of Captain Villaire's party after him.

Cujo also went to the house, bewildered by what was going on and hardly knowing how to turn.

Randolph Rover fought desperately and so did d.i.c.k. But the two were no match for the six men who had attacked them, and ere they knew it the Rovers were close prisoners, with their hands bound behind them and each with a dirty gag of gra.s.s stuffed in his mouth.

”Now march, or you will be shot,” came in bad English from one of the Villaire party. And as there seemed nothing better to do they marched, wondering why they had been attacked and where they were to be taken. Their arms had been confiscated, so further resistance was useless. When d.i.c.k lagged behind he received a cruel blow on the back which nearly sent him headlong.

A journey of several hours brought the party to a small clearing overlooking the Congo at a point where the bank was fully fifty feet above the surface of the stream. Here, in years gone by, a rough log hut had been built, which the African International a.s.sociation had once used as a fort during a war with the natives.

The log hut was in a state of decay, but still fit for use and almost hidden from view by the dense growth of vines which covered it.

The men who had brought Randolph Rover and d.i.c.k hither evidently knew all about the hut, for they proceeded to make themselves at home without delay. Taking the Rovers into one of the apartments of the dilapidated building they tied each to the logs of the walls, one several yards from the other.

”Now you must wait until Captain Villaire returns,” said the leader of the party in French. ”He will be here before daylight.”

”But what does this mean?” demanded Randolph Rover.

”He will tell you what it means,” grinned the brigand, and walked away to another part of the hut, which was built in a long, rambling fas.h.i.+on, and contained a dozen or more divisions.

”We are in a pickle,” remarked d.i.c.k dismally. ”This is hunting up father with a vengeance.”

”We won't despair yet, d.i.c.k. But I would like to know what this means.”

”It probably means robbery, for one thing, Uncle Randolph. And it may mean death.” And the youth, shuddered.