Boy Aviators in Africa; Or, an Aerial Ivory Trail

  Produced by Sean Pobuda

  THE BOY AVIATORS IN AFRICA

  OR

  AN AERIAL IVORY TRAIL

  By Captain Wilbur Lawton

  CONTENTS

  I A REUNION II THE STOLEN IVORY III THE DARK CONTINENT IV THE WITCH-DOCTOR V THE POOL OF DEATH VI A SNAP-SHOT FIEND IN TROUBLE VII A TRAITOR IN CAMP VIII A BATTLE IN THE AIR IX THE VOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN X THE ARAB'S CACHE XI THE AGE OF SIKASO XII IN THE HANDS OF SLAVE-TRADERS XIII GORILLAS--AND AN AERIAL TOW-LINE XIV AN ESCAPE--AND WHAT CAME OF IT XV THE FLYING MEN XVI FOOLING AN ARAB CHIEF XVII THE "ROGUE" ELEPHANT XVIII A LINK FROM THE PAST XIX FRIENDS IN NEED XX THE SMOKE READER XXI THE CHUMS RESCUED BY AEROPLANE XXII LUTHER BARR'S TRICK XXIII ABOARD "THE BRIGAND" XXIV THE BOY AVIATORS HOLD A WINNING HAND

  CHAPTER I

  A REUNION

  "Here, Harry, catch hold."

  "Ouch--I dropped that cartridge box on my pet corn."

  "Say, you fellows, are we going to Africa or are we on a ConeyIsland picnic?"

  "Be serious now, Billy Barnes, you may be all right as a reporter,but as a shipping clerk you're no more good than a cold storageegg."

  "Well, I'm doing the best I can," was the indignant reply,"here--I've got it all down: Box 10-- One waterproof tent, onerubber-blanket, tent-pegs, ropes, more ropes.--Say, Frank, what inthe name of the 'London Times' and jumping horn-toads do you want somuch rope for?"

  "To tie up a certain young reporter named William Barnes when hegets too fresh," was the laughing reply.

  The three boys sat about a heaped, confused collection of ammunition,cooking-utensils, rifles, and camp "duffle" in general, one eveninglate in May. The eldest of the group, a sunny-faced, clear eyed ladof about sixteen, held in his hand a notebook from which he called outthe inventory of the articles piled about him as his brother, a youthof fourteen, sorted them out. The third member of the trio was ashort, stocky chap of possibly seventeen, with sharp, blue eyes thatgleamed behind a pair of huge spectacles. He was examining a camerawith care; from time to time turning his attention to an open notebookthat lay beside him in which he was supposed to be entering the listas the other called it off.

  The place where the boys were busying themselves was the upper floorof a large garage in the rear of the Chester residence, on MadisonAvenue, New York City, which had been turned into a workshop for thetwo young Chesters--Frank and Harry--already well known to ourreaders as The Boy Aviators. The well set-up lad who was soindustriously calling off the equipment that lay scattered about wasFrank Chester, and the ready classifier of the mixed-up outfit wasHarry, his younger brother. The third member of the group was BillyBarnes, the young reporter, already down to us as the chronicler ofthe Chester boys' adventures in Nicaragua and the depths of theEverglades of Florida. Since the boys' return from Florida on theU. S. torpedo boat, the Tarantula, they had been busy putting intoshape the rough working plans of the African hunting expedition theyhad planned as a sort of vacation.

  The ample bonus the government had awarded them for their singularlyclever work in rescuing Lieutenant Chapin, the inventor ofChapinite, by their aeroplane Golden Eagle II, had supplied themwith ample funds for their trip. As for Billy Barnes (or "OurSpecial Staff Correspondent, William Barnes," as he was now known),besides the sum realized from the sale of the rubies the boys foundin the Quesal Cave in Nicaragua, the money the youthful scribe hadmade on writing up the boys' Florida adventures had provided himwith a good fat nest-egg.

  The natural stimulus given to the red-blooded Chester boys by Mr.Roosevelt's hunting adventures had a good deal to do, with theirresolution to go to Africa. And now--after several weeks of work ongetting together as good an outfit as was procurable--they wereputting what Billy called "the finishing touches" on theiraccoutrements. Stacked in corners of the room were big chestspainted blue and marked with the boys' names and neatly numbered inwhite painted characters. These cases contained the differentsections of the Golden Eagle II, the aeroplane equipped withwireless, that had made history in Florida.

  There were twenty of these cases besides the ones labeled "CampOutfit," "Medical," "Armory Chest," "Grub Chest," and severalnondescript ones containing the odds and ends that an expedition ofthe kind they planned would find indispensable. In some smallerboxes also were packed yards and yards of bright-colored cloth andcalico, spangles, cheap jewelry and brass ornaments for use amongthe natives. In making up their outfit the boys had taken theadvice of a well-known African traveler who had retired from hisadventurous life to purchase a place in New Jersey, where heintended to spend his remain days. Through a mutual friend the boysobtained an introduction to him and his advice in selecting theoutfit had been simply invaluable.

  "Go easy, carry lots of quinine, don't waste ammunition, and countten before you pick a quarrel with a native," had been his simplylaid-down rules for getting along in Africa, and these rules theboys had determined to adhere to strictly.

  "Say, is this going to be a hunting trip or an invasion of Africa?"inquired Billy, quizzically as Harry sorted out and Frank read offceaselessly the apparently interminable inventory of the supplies ofthe Chester party. "I'm getting writer's cramp."

  "A hunting party of course," laughed Frank, "but you know thathunters who go into the bush depending on their rifles usually comeout a good deal thinner than when they went in.

  "That's so," assented Billy, "but when we have a sixty-mileaeroplane like the Golden Eagle II we can easily fly out tocivilization in case of necessity."

  "Yes, if we have enough gasoline," assented Harry, "but how much canwe carry into the bush?"

  "Just enough for our purposes and no more," replied Frank, readily,"fortunately the soluble tablets of picric and glycerine will helpout our supply materially. A few of these tablets dissolved ingasoline render the efficiency of one ordinary gallon equal tothree; but I don't care to use them except in a case of absolutenecessity as they are very hard on an engine."

  "Then we can count on every gallon we carry being of tripleefficiency?" asked Billy.

  "Certainly," replied Frank, who had invented the tablets inquestion, and which were an extremely useful addition to theequipment of the modern aviator. As the boys worked on and theequipment, as it was classified, was packed away in the casesassigned to each class of articles, there came a sharp knock at thedoor of the garage building and a servant entered with a specialdelivery letter to Frank. The boy tore it open eagerly and thengave a low whistle of astonishment.

  "Read it out, Harry," he said, handing the missive to his brother."It concerns all of us."

  Harry took it and read as follows:

  DEAR FRANK AND HARRY:

  Shall be in town to-morrow morning with my father and Mr. LutherBarr, the well-known ivory importer. He has a communication ofimportance for you. What it is I am afraid to trust to writing, butyou will know full details when you see us. Will you call at theWaldorf at ten-thirty and have breakfast? We can discuss the matterover the meal. All I can say now is that if the Golden Eagle isstill in shape for her old-time stunts there is work ahead of herthat will prove harder than anything she has yet tackled. However,I know you are not the chaps to balk at a little danger--particularlywhen exciting adventures are in the wind.

  So long, then, till to-morrow:

  "LATHROP EASLEY"

  "Well, what do you know about that?" gasped Billy Barnes, "here weare fixing up for a nice little holiday trip to rest our shatterednerves, and here comes, a job along that looks as if we should haveto work a
ll summer."

  "It certainly is curious," replied Frank musingly.

  "What can Lathrop mean? Who is Luther Barr? I have heard the namebut I cannot place him."

  "Lathrop says he is an ivory importer," suggested Harry.

  "Easy to find out," said the resourceful Billy. "Where's the 'phonebook?"

  Frank handed the volume to him from its hook beside the instrument.

  "Ah--here we are," exclaimed Billy, as he ran his finger triumphantlydown the "B" list. "Barr, Luther--that's our man, eh? Ivoryimporter, offices No. 42 Wall Street--home, White Plains."

  "White Plains, that's where Lathrop's folks live," exclaimed Harry."That's where he first became associated with the Golden Eagle."

  "And turned out to be a good partner," added Frank.

  "A jim dandy," agreed Billy. "I tell you boys, I've got a good nosefor news and if there isn't some sort of a story back of Mr. LutherBarr and Lathrop's letter I'll eat my hat without sauce."

  Any acceptance of the young reporter's generous offer was interruptedby a sudden noise in the usually quiet street.

  "I tell you the fare's a dollar!" the boys heard an angry voicedeclaim.

  "'Tain't nothing of the kind or I'm a lubber--fifty cents is allI'll pay. I'll be horn-swoggled if you get a cent more, yerdeep-sea pirate," was the indignant phrased reply.

  Something in the voice was strangely familiar but the "horn-swoggled"settled it.

  "Ben Stubbs," gasped all the boys simultaneously and rushed out ofthe garage to the street.

  Here they found a stoutly-built, crisp-bearded man with a facetanned to what Billy called a "weathered oak finish," arguing loudlywith a taxicab chauffeur. The man was obdurate over his fare andjust at, the boys came on the scene was suggesting that his equallydetermined passenger get back in the cab and take a ride to thepolice station.

  "The sergeant will settle our dispute," he said angrily.

  "What's the trouble, Ben?" exclaimed Frank, giving the angry man onthe pavement a hearty slap on the back.

  "Why, this here piratical craft," the other was beginning whensuddenly he dropped the battered bag he carried and burst into amighty roar--a regular Cape Horn hail.

  "Back my topsails if it ain't you, Frank," he cried, wringing theother's hands till the boy's arms were almost dislocated. "And youtoo, Harry, and keel haul me ef here ain't Billy too. Well, if itain't good to see, you Chester boys again."

  "Say, are you the Chester Boys--the Boy Aviators?" suddenly cut inthe chauffeur in a respectful tone.

  "We are," replied Frank, "why?"

  "Oh, well," said the chauffeur, "then I'll let your friend off withfifty cents. I thought he was a 'greeny'."

  With that, he calmly twisted the dial of the cab which registered$1.00 back to the fifty cent mark and coolly pocketed the coin theindignant Ben handed.

  "Does that thing work backwards?" demanded the amazed oldadventurer, as the taxi whizzed off before he could frame words toexpress his indignation.

  "Not often," replied Billy with a laugh. "I guess that chap readsthe papers and thought it wouldn't do him any good to try to fool aparticular friend of the Boy Aviators."

  "Well, boys, what are your plans?" demanded Ben, as--after therugged fellow had been introduced to Mrs. Chester, a sweet-faced oldlady, and Mr. Chester, a fine-looking, gray-haired man of aboutfifty--he and the boys sat in the garage discussing the Africanoutfit.

  "We hardly know now," replied Frank, and then in a few words hedescribed Lathrop's letter and its contents.

  "Wherever that boy is there's bound to be doings," remarked Ben,sententiously, when the young leader had finished. "Down in Floridawhen he wasn't tumbling into alligators' mouths or getting bit byserpents he was allers up to some mischief--you mark my wordsthere's something in the wind now."

  The boys talked late and long that night over the letter and whatpossible plan Mr. Barr, the ivory importer, could have to discussthat would be of interest to them, but they were able to arrive atno definite conclusion except that there was nothing to be doneabout it till morning.

  As for Ben with his usual philosophic attitude toward mysteries, hefilled his pipe and silently smoked. To those of our readers whohave not met Ben this phase of his character may seem inexplicable,but to the boys Ben's passive acceptance of any situation had becomequite familiar. Ever since they had rescued the rugged oldadventurer from a marooned treasure-mine in Nicaragua and he hadshared their strange adventures in Florida on the Chapin RescueExpedition, the old man had become as much a part of their necessaryequipment as the Golden Eagle itself. He had arrived that night inresponse to a telegraphed request to his cottage at Amityville onLong Island, where he cultivated an extensive farm--also part of theQuesal ruby profits--and devoted himself to fishing and hunting.

  'The Boys' mere word, however, that they were off to Africa had beensufficient to arouse the old man's roving instinct and here he wason deck once more as active as a boy and almost as impatient for thestart for the Dark Continent. Ben slept at the Chester's home thatnight and if his dreams were not as populated with visions ofelephants, leopards, deer, huge snakes and pigmy savages as theirsit was not any lack of interest in the coming expedition that wasresponsible for it.