Tahara: Among African Tribes Part 20

"Oh shucks!" Dan growled. "We were winning the race. Now the old gazabo wants us to fall to the rear."

But Mutaba had heard his master's command and the order was given.

Soon the Hindu's canoe was side by side with the one carrying Dan and d.i.c.k.

Mahatma Sikandar spoke through his screen of leaves.

"Bad news, d.i.c.k Sahib and for you, too, Dan Sahib, the crystal ball brings evil tidings."

"What's up now?" blurted Dan.

"Were you really crystal gazing in the canoe? And did you see something that concerns us?" demanded d.i.c.k.

"I saw clearly what I saw only dimly before," answered the Hindu gravely. "The captives held in the same camp with Veena; one is a man, gray bearded and full of years. That is your father, d.i.c.k Sahib."

"d.i.c.k's father? Why how did Professor Oakwood get down here in the jungle?" Dan was incredulous.

"He was lured from the oasis by a trick. And he was not taken alone.

A young girl is also kept for ransom."

"A girl? Who can it be?" cried Dan as the truth began to dawn upon him.

"Already you guess who it is, Dan Sahib, and your suspicions are correct. The girl who is captured is young and beautiful with dark eyes and curly black hair. She is brave, although her case is desperate, and she calls upon you for help. She is your sister, Dan Sahib!"

CHAPTER X

WAR CANOES

Ray Carter a captive!

This terrible news stunned the two boys for an instant, then spurred them to furious action. Their canoe drove forward. Soon the Mahatma's boat was left far behind.

Now they felt that not a moment must be lost. To think of Dan's lovely sister in the grip of those savage and brutal men, made them wild with the resolve to fight for her freedom.

It was bad enough to know that d.i.c.k's father was held for ransom, but Ray was in ten times as much danger. She was so sweet and pretty in her gay, jaunty way, that the mere thought of her coming to harm aroused them to madness.

They urged the boatmen to greater speed.

"Faster! Faster!" shouted Dan. "I've got to get my sister out of there!"

Gone was all his jolly manner. His round face was no longer ruddy but looked pale and strained, and his eyes showed the light of desperate resolve.

"Faster! Faster!" commanded d.i.c.k Oakwood, and his jaw set in a hard, fighting line as he stared straight ahead down the tropical river.

Raal echoed the cry for speed and more speed and the paddlers drove deeper into the sluggish water, while foam curled before the canoes.

Mutaba caught the excitement and his men were stirred to fighting rage.

Their war chant rang out as they bent to the paddles and the alarming sounds startled the parrots and monkeys in the overhanging trees.

"This will never do," said d.i.c.k. "We don't know how far the sounds may carry."

"That's right. We don't want to warn those cut-throats that we are on our way," Dan urged.

As if his thoughts had been read, a voice of command travelled over the surface of the water and penetrated the uproar with its calm accent.

"Quiet, my children! Make speed, but no more noise."

"The Mahatma," gasped Dan.

"Did you hear him?" d.i.c.k questioned. "Did you hear English words?"

"Of course. At least I seemed to hear them."

"But the black Kungoras obeyed. And so did the Taharans. And the Gorols, too! Yet none of those people understood English."

"That's a fact. How do you account for that?"

"The Mahatma sent an order that each man understood in his own language. It was not in words, however. He just sent his thoughts to us all. We _imagined_ we heard the words, but what happened was that we got the idea by some sixth sense."

"That's magic! The real thing!" Dan exclaimed.

"Not magic. It's what I told you about; a kind of mental radio."

"Well, if the Mahatma can send his thoughts like that, he must be a wise old bird, after all!" Dan exclaimed. "Say, I was wrong to kid him so much and call him Old Whiskers."

"That's what I think."

"I hope he isn't sore at me."

"Not likely. He probably does not consider it worth while to be insulted by a fresh youngster like you."

"Jiminy, I hope you're right, d.i.c.k. We certainly need the Mahatma's help if we are going to get Ray out of there."

"We do that. It will take all his scheming and all our fighting speed to set her free."

Dan's face was very grave. He was so excited and nervous about his sister that he almost broke down.

"Do you think I'd better go back to his boat and apologize?" he asked humbly. "Say, I'd feel like a dog if anything happened to Ray."

"You can apologize later," counselled d.i.c.k. "What we have to do now is paddle for dear life and as soon as we reach the camp to put up the best fight there is in us."

Both d.i.c.k and Dan seized a paddle and added their efforts to those of the boatmen.

It was hot work.

The humid air of the jungle weighed upon them like a blanket of steam.