The Rogue Elephant Part 2

"Boys, I'd like to have you meet Mr. Mowbray," said the explorer, introducing the two. "You aren't going to British territory, I suppose?"

"Never you mind, my son," snapped the little man. "Give me back my map.

Just got in from Was.h.i.+ngton an hour ago, and leave in another hour. I'll need that map worse than you will--got wind of something big."

As Schoverling pulled out the folded map and handed it over, Mowbray lowered his voice.

"I'll beat you there by some time, old boy, but I'll be around. Let you in on it, if I can't handle it. Good-looking boys, there. Keep your ears open for a n.i.g.g.e.r who says 'Me debbil man.' You can trust him. Got to go, General. Mighty glad to have met you, boys--see you later, maybe.

Besselama!"

"Jumping sandhills!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Charlie. "Who's he? A grand mogul around here? What's that last word mean?"

"Arabic for 'so-long,'" smiled the General.

"What made 'em all shut up when he handed it to them?" inquired Jack curiously.

"That's the chap, of course, who lent me the map, boys." And the General spoke very seriously. "You must never repeat what he said to a soul, or mention his name. In British Africa they have hunted him for years, by regiments; there's a price on his head of some thousands of pounds, and he's slipped into and out of the country whenever he liked. He's defeated the Somali troops and even the white regulars time and again, and no one knows how he gets into the ivory country. He does it for sheer love of the game, for he has a fortune of his own."

"You mean," asked the puzzled and wondering Charlie, "that he's one of the ivory raiders?"

"He's _the_ ivory raider of them all," nodded Schoverling, "and the biggest man in the club here. For all his scornful words, not a man there but would bite off his tongue sooner than repeat that Mowbray was starting for Africa to-day. Why, the British would pay a thousand pounds for those half-dozen words! Now just forget it, boys."

Forget it! It was a long time before Charlie ever forgot the sight of that little man, and the time came when he was to remember him more vividly still, as was Jack also. Neither of them gave any thought to the muttered "Me debbil man." If Schoverling did, he betrayed no inkling of it through his bronzed mask of a face.

That night they were aboard the steamer. During the days that followed Charlie enjoyed every minute of the time, as did Jack also. But they were both accustomed to hard work, and the luxuries of civilization, where everything was done for them, soon grew monotonous. When they had gone over their beloved guns, oiling every inch, and received instructions for the use of the few simple medicines taken along, there was little to do except to read up on Africa, which labor they threw themselves into gladly.

They saw little of von Hofe on the way over, for he was busy on some chemical experiments; but the day before they reached Gibraltar a strange odor, which permeated the whole s.h.i.+p, drew down on him the wrath of the captain, after which the big Teuton abandoned his beloved mixtures.

The whole voyage to Port Said was uneventful in actual happenings. But at Port Said they went aboard the _Mombasa_, and off Aden they had the pleasure of meeting the gentlemanly Selim ben Amoud, and of first hearing of the Magic Lake and its mysterious Rogue Elephant guardian.

CHAPTER III

QUILQUA THE MYSTERIOUS

He was a suave, polished, open-s.h.i.+rted Arab, who appeared the morning after they had left Port Said and the Suez far behind, and who smiled at Louis Schoverling with the air of old acquaintance. The American sprang up with extended hand.

"Why, Selim! I had no idea you were aboard!"

"Neither had the authorities at Port Said," rejoined the Arab softly.

The explorer raised his eyebrows, and Jack nudged Charlie significantly.

A moment later they were being introduced, and von Hofe was explaining the object of their journey.

"It should interest Mr. ben Amoud," smiled the General, "as he is one of the largest Arab dealers in ivory--and other things--on the Coast."

Selim, much to Charlie's surprise, spoke fluent English, enjoyed his cigar as much as did the explorer, and was not as swarthy as their Italian captain. He sat quietly beneath the awning, his wide hat shading his face, and would easily have been taken for a German or Boer, with his flowing beard and European clothes. Most of the Arabs on board wore the burnous and sandals, and Charlie wondered if there were any reason behind this European garb.

The trader heard of their expedition, and gravely complimented von Hofe on his work, of which he spoke with some knowledge, until the doctor beamed genially.

After a pause Selim turned to Schoverling. "Much has happened in the two years since I last saw you. You have not, by any chance, heard of one who calls himself 'Me debbil man'?"

Charlie started, but Jack, his deep black eyes suddenly afire, gripped his arm. Von Hofe stared, and the Arab gazed at Schoverling, whose face never changed.

"Yes," replied the explorer, quietly. "We are all friends of his."

The Arab's gaze darted to one of the deck-hands, lounging on the rail near by. Charlie saw ben Amoud rise, step to the man's side, and hiss something. The man looked startled; then his face changed and he slunk away. Selim, his narrow eyes glittering, returned to his deck-chair and settled himself comfortably.

"Now we can talk, my friends. Mr. Schoverling, have you ever heard of Lake Quilqua?"

The American looked puzzled. "Can't say I remember the name, Selim.

Where is it?"

"Ah, many men have asked that question!" and Selim's white teeth shone.

Charlie stole a glance at Jack. His dreams of the mysterious East were being rapidly realized! "No one has ever answered it, however. It is one of those odd native yarns that are generally founded on fact, though you white men disbelieve them. Here it is for you:

"Two years ago rumors began to drift to certain of us that somewhere, far down from the Abyssinian border in that desolate land north of the Lorian Swamp, there was a lake. The tale was given me in fuller form by one of my own Arabs who had got lost and found his way out to die, crazed and raving of horrible things, only a few months ago.

"This lake, it seems, is fed by underground springs--hot springs, that spout up and fall like fountains on the water; its outlet is also by an underground river, so that the lake lies, sweltering in the sun and surrounded by desert and jungle and marsh, where no people live."

Ben Amoud turned to the calmly interested German. "You, Doctor von Hofe, are a scientist. Granted such a body of water, at an average temperature of ninety to a hundred degrees Fahrenheit; would animal life in it and near it be liable to any change in average size?"

The big man stroked his beard reflectively, pulling at his pipe.

"Possibly," he admitted at length. "But only one way. If animal life could exist at such a temperature, it would perhaps be much larger than elsewhere. For instance, a buffalo lives much in the water. In such a place as that, a buffalo's great-grandchildren would be larger, and so on through succeeding generations, each a little larger. Yes, it iss possible--but nod probable."

"Do you mean," cried Charlie, unable to repress his eagerness, "that there are giant animals there?"

The Arab smiled and waved his hand. "It is but a tale, remember. See, I have heard that in this lake are great serpents of monstrous size. That, as our friend has just said, there are such buffalo there as were never seen, and that evil spirits dwell on an island near the reed-encircled sh.o.r.e. But there is one thing more, that might interest you; indeed, it was my reason for telling you the story.

"Not only the wandering natives, but my own Arab, have raved of a tremendous elephant, a rogue, who dwells near there. He is said to be of great size, very wicked, and cursed by Allah with the desire to fight men. His size is said to be that of a mountain--and in truth I doubt if any man has ever seen him and lived to tell of it. There, my friends, would be a conquest worthy of your skill!"

Von Hofe grunted, but Charlie saw that his blue eyes were never off the face of the Arab. Jack sat listening with all his ears.

"What's a 'rogue'?" he asked.

"Wait till you see one and you won't need to ask. A rogue is a big bull elephant who's broken away from his herd and lives by himself in the jungle. He's usually a man-fighter, and doesn't think anything of attacking a whole herd of elephants. He's an outlaw, and he's a bad citizen to meet.

"But I hardly think, Selim," continued the General with a smile, "that we will penetrate to such a place. All we wish is a couple of very large bulls; the others of the groups can be picked up nearer home, but it is essential that we get magnificent tuskers."

"And I have told you where to get the best of all tuskers," rejoined Selim seriously. "There is some foundation for such a tale, believe me.

I am not at liberty to tell you more, but perhaps you, Mr. Schoverling, could imagine a friend of yours who would be very likely to try the truth of the yarn."

Charlie's quick eyes roved from face to face. He had not fought with the world for most of his life and emerged unable to read men's faces, young as he was; and he knew enough of Jack by this time to feel confident that the other was losing nothing of what went on.

At the Arab's last words a glance flashed between him and the explorer.

Von Hofe was frankly puzzled over these references to an unknown person, but he asked no questions, wisely. It was the explorer who finally spoke.