In the Depths of the Dark Continent; or, The Vengeance of Van Vincent

  Produced by Demian Katz and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesyof the Digital Library@Villanova University(https://digital.library.villanova.edu/))

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I. MURDER! CHAPTER II. A PLUCKY CHASE. CHAPTER III. CARRIED TO SEA. CHAPTER IV. ON THE CONGO RIVER. CHAPTER V. THE EXPLORING PARTY. CHAPTER VI. A SLIGHT ADVENTURE. CHAPTER VII. VAN'S PERIL. CHAPTER VIII. A WOMAN'S PARADISE. CHAPTER IX. ESCAPE FROM THE AMAZONS. CHAPTER X. DOWN THE RIVER. CHAPTER XI. THE DWARFS. CHAPTER XII. A HORRIBLE FATE. CHAPTER XIII. SEARCHING FOR JACK AND JOE. CHAPTER XIV. IN A PERILOUS POSITION. CHAPTER XV. THE BAND OF HORSEMEN. CHAPTER XVI. A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY. CHAPTER XVII. WHAT BEFELL DOC CLANCY. CHAPTER XVIII. THE AFRICAN UTOPIA. CHAPTER XIX. DOC CLANCY'S CONFESSION. CHAPTER XX. OUR HERO FINDS A FATHER. CHAPTER XXI. DIVERSE MATTERS. CHAPTER XXII. THE EXECUTION AND WHAT FOLLOWED. CHAPTER XXIII. UTOPIA IS LEFT BEHIND. CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION.

  FIVE CENTS

  BRAVE AND BOLD A DIFFERENT COMPLETE STORY EVERY WEEK

  No. 109

  IN THE DEPTHS OF THE DARK CONTINENT

  OR

  The Vengeance of Van Vincent

  By THE AUTHOR of "THE WRECK OF THE GLAUCUS"

  The next minute they were blazing away at the crab-likecreatures. Jack noticed that every time a bullet hit one of their claws,it would immediately drop from the creature's body.]

  BRAVE & BOLD

  _A Different Complete Story Every Week_

  _Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to Actof Congress in the year 1905, in the Office of the Librarian ofCongress. Washington, D. C._ STREET & SMITH, _238 William St., N. Y._

  No. 109. NEW YORK, January 21, 1905. Price Five Cents.

  IN THE DEPTHS OF THE DARK CONTINENT;

  OR,

  The Vengeance of Van Vincent.

  By the author of "The Wreck of the 'Glaucus.'"

  CHAPTER I.

  MURDER!

  The little village of Edgewater was covered by the inky pall of night.

  The big clock on the steeple of the town hall had just tolled the hourof twelve.

  Ever since night set in the clouds had been heavy and threatening, andas the midnight hour arrived the storm burst forth in all its fury.

  The wind arose to a perfect hurricane, and the rain came down intorrents.

  Van Vincent, a bright, handsome youth of eighteen years, who is tofigure as the hero of this story, was awakened from his slumber by thecreaking of the beams and timbers in the old-fashioned house he calledhis home.

  Van was an orphan, as far as he knew, and lived with an uncle, who wasreported as being very wealthy, though the house he lived in and hiseveryday appearance would not lead anyone to think so.

  The last Van had ever heard of his father he had gone to Africa with anexploring party.

  That was fifteen years before, and up to this time none of the party hadever returned.

  Ralph Vincent, the uncle of Van, had given the boy a good education, andobtained for him the situation of bookkeeper in the largest store inEdgewater.

  Consequently Van loved and respected his uncle, who had often declaredthat the boy should inherit what little he possessed in earthly goods.

  As Van was awakened by the violence of the storm on the night upon whichour story opens, he felt rather uneasy.

  He had been aroused from a bad dream, and it took him several seconds torealize that he was home and in bed.

  "My!" he exclaimed, leaping out of bed; "this is a fearful storm. I mustclose the window."

  He started toward a window, the sash of which was lowered slightly,allowing the rain to dash into the room.

  Just as he did so he heard a blood-curdling cry that nearly froze hissoul with horror.

  "Help! murder! mur----"

  For the space of ten seconds Van stood as if transfixed.

  The terrible cry came from his uncle's room, which was on the firstfloor, and almost directly beneath him.

  The boy knew, too, that it was his uncle's voice that uttered the cries,and seizing a revolver from the drawer of the bureau in his room, hedarted downstairs.

  Reaching the door of the room whence the cries came, he found it locked.

  Van Vincent was not the sort to be balked very easily when he started todo a thing. Taking a few steps backward, he let his whole weight goagainst the door and forced it from its hinges.

  The next instant he was in the room.

  Almost the first object he saw was a man clambering from an open window.

  He raised his revolver, but too late! the intruder dropped to the groundbelow and was lost in the storm and darkness.

  Van made a move to spring through the window after him, but a faintvoice coming from the bed checked him.

  "Van, c-c-come h-e-re!"

  The next moment the boy was at the side of the bed, where his uncle layin a pool of blood, breathing heavily.

  "Van, I have been murdered!" exclaimed Ralph Vincent, faintly.

  The look on his uncle's face told Van that what he said was true.

  Just at that moment an old man called Ben, who was the only male servantabout the house, came rushing in the room in a terrified manner.

  "Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed, wildly. "Whatever has happened, Mr. Vincent?"

  "Silence, Ben!" spoke up the dying man. "Van, hand me a glass of brandyand I will try and describe my murderer so that you may hunt him downand bring him to justice."

  Half bewildered, Van did as he was directed, while the servant strove toquench the blood that was flowing from a ghastly wound in his employer'sside.

  Instead of making him rally, the glass of brandy set the dying man tocoughing, and when the spell ceased he was so weak that he could notspeak above a whisper.

  He managed to articulate the words:

  "Doc Clancy--an old enemy to our family--sandy mustache--thumb missingfrom right hand!"

  These were the last words Ralph Vincent ever spoke, for the next momenthe fell back and his soul fled to its Maker.

  What lay upon the bed now was a heap of senseless clay.

  "Heaven save us! but this is awful!" groaned Ben, the servant. "Whocommitted this terrible crime, Master Van?"

  "A man named Doc Clancy; that is what uncle stated with his dyingbreath. Do you know or have you ever heard of such a person, Ben?"

  Van turned his gaze full upon the servant as he spoke, but one glance inold Ben's eyes told him plainly that he knew nothing whatever about themurderer.

  "You had better go and rouse some of the neighbors, Ben," spoke up Van,after a pause. "I will wait here till you come back."

  "Yes, sir," and old Ben was off like a shot.

  In less than half an hour a dozen or more people were gathered at thescene of the tragedy.

  But no one touched the corpse until the coroner arrived, shortly afterdaylight.

  An examination showed that Ralph Vincent had been stabbed through theright lung by some unknown person, and this was the verdict rendered bythe coroner's jury.

  All that day a crowd of the villagers thronged the house, and Van wentabout among them like one in a dream, hardly able to realize what hadhappened a few short hours before.

  But his uncle's last words rang constantly in the boy's ears, and hemade up his mind that as soon as the funeral was over he would start outto hunt down the villain called Doc Clancy, who had a thumb missing fromhis right hand.

  The day of the funeral came, and the remains of Ralph Vincent wereinterred.

  Then
came the reading of the will, and, to Van's astonishment, a manwhom he had never seen before was present.

  Before the will was read the lawyer introduced the stranger to Van as anown cousin and a nephew of the murdered man, who had just returned froma foreign port the day following the crime.

  Van was not a great deal surprised at this, as he knew he had cousinswhom he had never seen.

  But what was his astonishment when the will had been read and he foundthat he had been utterly ignored by his uncle, and that John Moreland,the stranger, came in for the entire property?

  But there it was in black and white, with his uncle's signature andthose of the witnesses.

  The eyes of all those assembled in the room were turned upon Van whenthis startling fact came to light.

  But the boy was not a bit more pale than he had been since the murder,and regarding the looks of the inmates of the room as a question put tohim, he said in a clear, calm voice:

  "I care not for the fact that my uncle left me out of his will. He hasalways been kind to me since I can remember, and I appreciated it andloved him. My mission now is to hunt down his murderer and bring him tojustice, and I swear to do it. Cousin John Moreland, I congratulate youon being the heir to uncle's estate. Accept my hand on it."

  As Van clasped the hand of John Moreland a sudden thrill shot throughhis frame, and he glanced downward.

  The hand he held in his own was minus the thumb.

  In the twinkling of an eye Van's whole manner changed.

  With the force of an enraged lion he seized the man by the throat andhurled him back against the wall.

  Then in a voice that rang out like a clarion note, he exclaimed:

  "I accuse this man of being the murderer of my uncle!"