“Let’s go, Dan! Here’s where we give our royal domain a visit of inspection.”

“Okay, Dick. But first let me finish my breakfast. One more slice of wild pig please!”

“Get a move on, Dan! The sun’s up. We’re all ready but you!”

Dick’s first interest was to explore his new kingdom, and he set out early on this expedition with his two chief lieutenants, Raal, who was the best fighter among the Taharans, carried a treasure, wrapped in a zebra skin. Kulki, the young leader of the Gorol tribe, which lived in the mountains in huts built in the trees, carried Dick’s long flint knife as an emblem of royal power.

Kulki was the son of Wabiti, an old chief who could not lead his tribe in battle, but was still respected for his wisdom.

These two warriors led the way, and for his bodyguard, the Boy King took two Taharan tribesmen armed with bows and arrows and flint knives. Kurt and Kurul were devoted to him, and had proved their courage in more than one stiff fight.

Dan Carter, his chum, went with the expedition as right hand man and counselor, though as a matter of fact, Dan was so easy-going and light-hearted that he was more useful for his company than for his advice. As a sign of high rank he was allowed to carry the binoculars.

The party set out from the fertile hills that rose from the Sahara and climbed by winding trails up the cliffs to Gorol Land.

Here the country was rugged and covered with a growth of trees and where the forest was thick and hard to penetrate lurked many wild animals. Leopards, panthers and other fierce creatures were in those shadowy recesses, together with poisonous snakes and other reptiles. Great apes and chattering little monkeys clambered boldly among the trees while gaily colored tropical birds screeched and scolded the intruders.

“Jiminy crickets!” cried Dan excitedly. “This beats any zoo I’ve seen yet! Animals in cages don’t seem as interesting as the ones that go climbing about in the forest.”

“You’re right at that,” Dick answered. “And as for the Gorols, they are more like the side-show ‘wild man of Bornéo’ than anything I’ve ever heard of.”

“Listen. That sounds like war drums along the trail.”

Dan put his hand on his bow, but Dick held him back.

“Don’t be foolish!” he said. “Those are drums of welcome.”

He spoke a few words to Kulki in the Gorol language, which he was beginning to learn, and the savage answered grinning:

“They are the drums of Chief Wabiti, my father. We are near his camp now.”

“Here they come!” exclaimed Dan. “Say, this beats a circus parade!”

Ahead of them on the forest trail the boys caught sight of dark figures moving among the trees and spots of gay color. As they reached a small clearing, Kulki led the party to a fallen log at one side, where Dick sat with his followers standing around him.

Then Chief Wabiti and his people entered to greet their new ruler, the Boy King, with drums beating and voices raised in a shrill song of welcome.

“Quick, Raal, where is the crown?” Dick asked and his savage henchman hastily unwrapped the heavy diadem from a covering of zebra skin and handed it to his master, bowing low as he did so.

Dick placed the crudely fashioned crown of soft gold and uncut gems upon his head, while Dan inspected him with a grin, remarking, “It sets a little sideways, Dick. Say, you need me along to keep your royal crown from slipping over your eye.”

“Lay off, Dan! Don’t get funny!”

Dick turned to Kulki. “Where’s my sword of state?”

Down on his knees went the hairy, dark-skinned Kulki, and presented the flint knife on both open palms.

“Good! Now Dan, you stand close to me and hold out the field glasses where they will impress the natives.”

Dick with his zebra skin garments, his crown, flint knife and respectful attendants looked enough like a tribal king to impress Wabiti, who entered the clearing at that moment, following his bodyguard and a procession of young girls ornamented with garlands of flowers. Behind him came his sons, princes of the Gorol tribe, but all of lesser rank than Kulki.

At the sight of Tahara, the new king, who was now ruler of both the tribes, Wabiti fell flat on his face and crawled forward to embrace the young monarch’s ankles.

His followers prostrated themselves at the same moment, all but the drummers, who stood to one side beating furiously upon the instruments with their flat hands.

“Tahara, hal!”

The words came from the aged Wabiti in a submissive growling voice from the pit of his stomach. His gray head was almost between Dick Oakwood’s feet.

Kulki echoed the words in a ringing shout.

“Tahara, hal! Tahara!”

All the Gorol tribe followed, chanting at the top of their lungs, while the women and girls repeated the words of submission in shrill, piercing voices.

The uproar terrified the brightly plumaged birds in the treetops and sent the curious little monkeys scuttling to safety.

Dick was about to raise Wabiti to his feet, when Dan remarked, “Let him stay where he is a while longer. I remember that old scoundrel did not lift a hand to save me, the night of the witch hunt. Let him stay there till his joints get stiff!”

“Don’t blame him for that,” said Dick. “Wabiti couldn’t help himself.”

“That’s right. He was scared of old Cimbula. By the way, where do you suppose that rascally witch-doctor is hiding out?”

“Can’t say, Dan! But don’t worry! The tribes are through with him and his so-called magic.”

While Dick and his chum were talking, the tribe of Gorols showed some degree of uneasiness. Dick was not aware of it, but his delay in giving the signal for Wabiti to rise was taken as a sign of anger.

The Gorols remembered how Dan had been chosen for sacrifice in the Boiling Black Spring that night of the terrible witch hunt, and when they saw him talking earnestly with Dick, they thought he was urging the new king to punish them.

The women and girls of the tribe began swaying and weaving their arms over their heads in a dance of terror. Their high pitched voices broke into a wailing plea for mercy:

“Ah-woe, ah-woe, Tahara!”

Even the drummers joined in begging for a pardon, for the drums rolled in a melancholy rhythm.

Kulki bowed to the ground and cried, “May I speak, Master?”

“Speak, Kulki!”

“Is my lord angry?”

“Angry at what, Kulki?”

“We did wrong! Be merciful, O King. Touch my father with the flat of your knife as a sign of pardon.”

“Pardon?”

“Yes, O mighty Tahara. If one of us must be slain, strike me. But do not kill my father before the tribe that loves him.”

Dick was astonished at the earnestness of the young savage, and also at the spirit of sacrifice.

He smiled and spoke to Dan.

“Pretty sporting, eh?”

“I’ll say so! Kulki shows the right spirit.”

As the tribe saw Dan and Dick smiling, their fears were turned to rejoicing, and a great shout went up as Dick stooped and patted the old chief on his grey head.

“We are friends,” he said.

“I am your slave, O Tahara,” exclaimed Wabiti.

“And I!” Kulki cried while Wabiti’s other sons all shouted in their own language, “Long live Tahara, King of the two tribes!”

After this ceremony, Wabiti led the way to the clearing under his airy village in the trees.

In a great pit, filled with glowing coals, were the carcasses of mountain goats, antelopes and wild boars. Small birds were roasting on skewers held by women of the tribe, while girls came forward with woven trays heaped high with tropical fruits such as Dick had eaten among the Taharans.

There were melons, dates, pomegranates and many others that he did not know by name, also gourds full of a delicious drink made from honey and wild grapes.

“Oh boy! This is the life!” exclaimed Dan. “Hey sister, bring over that basket of figs! Look at this, Dick! Ripe figs, purple and white figs! They’re sweet as sugar.”

Dick smiled and tasted the fruit but Dan insisted on keeping a basket beside him while the guests and Wabiti sat on the grass and the feast began.

Dan Carter, who enjoyed his meals and never passed up anything, was the hero of the hour. The savages believed in doing everything thoroughly: if they fought, they fought to kill and when they ate, they stuffed to bursting.

Dick Oakwood, with his habit of moderate eating, would have made a poor impression but for the exploits of Dan, who upheld the honor of both by his attacks upon the food.

As Dan picked a bone, he threw it behind him, over his shoulder and instantly a child of the tribe would snatch it as a prize.

The Gorols were in high spirits. They foresaw happy days ahead, days of hunting and feasting with no more fear of war with the Taharans to disturb their sleep.

“We are all friends and brothers!” said Wabiti, rising with a gourd full of the honey drink.

“Friends and brothers,” echoed Dick.

Wabiti chuckled sleepily, sat down abruptly and the next moment his head fell forward and he began snoring like a buzz saw.

Dick was not displeased. He looked forward to many happy years, studying these simple people, left over from the Old Stone Age, and watching them develop as he taught them the arts of peace.

After the Gorols had eaten all their skins could hold, they began to drop off to sleep and Dick called Raal to him.

“Now is a good time for us to explore the country undisturbed,” he said. “You and I will look over the Black Boiling Spring that I saw one terrible night. And I would enter the cave of the Great Gorol, where we stole the sacred black image.”

“I hear. I obey!”

Raal ordered one of the Gorols to bring a bundle of torches and told Kurt and Kurul to stay where they were and look after Dan, who was stretched out in a happy doze.

But as Dick rose to go, Dan started after him. “I wasn’t sleeping,” he cried. “I just closed my eyes to think! I’m going along.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I’d just feel better to go with you.”

“You’re not afraid, are you?” laughed Dick. “The Gorols are all friendly.”

“Of course not. But I was just thinking, suppose that old witch-doctor, Cimbula, happened to smell the cooking and crash the party. He might persuade those fellows to throw me into the Boiling Spring after all.”

“Well, come along, if you’re able to walk,” answered Dick.

They followed the winding trail to the hot sulphur spring that still sent its suffocating fumes from the black pit and bubbled menacingly as the boys looked down.

“Jiminy crickets! I’ll never forget how they wanted to chuck me in there,” exclaimed Dan. “Walk a little faster!”

“Come along. There’s the cave mouth just ahead.”

The chums paused to stare at the tall posts that marked the entrance, each crowned with a polished human skull, then Raal got the torches flaring and passed them out to light their way.

Dick followed close beside Raal, with Dan at his heels, as they plunged into the darkness of the cave. The narrow walls rose straight beside them as they proceeded slowly, and soon Dick reached the place where the passage turned at right angles.

Here the walls were flat surfaces, smoothed and cut artificially. It was no longer a rugged cave but a tunnel.

“Look!” exclaimed Dan. “The walls are all covered with drawings.”

Dick held up his torch to the rocky surface and saw that it was painted with pictures of hunting scenes, men pursuing boars and antelope. The drawings were done in outline and rubbed with some brownish color to make them show clearly.

“These are real Stone-Age pictures,” said Dick as they went deeper and deeper into the cave. “They are like the ones that Umba is painting now in his cave, but they show animals that have died out long ago. See, here are drawings of extinct animals. There is the sabre-tooth tiger. And look, that is a mastodon with long, curved tusks.”

“Jiminy, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could find one or two left over?” said Dan.

“A mastodon? Not likely! The climate has changed since the time that picture was made and those giants died out long ago,” Dick replied.

“Well, anyhow, some day we will go hunting in the high mountains. Maybe we can find one or two animals that are extinct everywhere else.”

“We’ll certainly do that little thing,” said Dick. He held his torch closer to the wall to examine a large crack in the surface. It was of rotten, crumbling stone in the fissure and as Dick pried at it with his flint knife, a handful of fragments dropped out.

Dan stooped to look at them. He rose to his feet with his eyes bright with excitement.

“Do you know what this is?” he exclaimed. “Quartz! Rotten quartz! And it’s heavy with gold.”

Dick stared at the glittering bits of ore and echoed: “Gold!”

“We have stumbled on the place where all that metal comes from,” said Dan. “This is a mine. See how the passage goes on at a right angle. It was dug to follow the ledge of gold.”

“I wonder. These people don’t value gold. They use it the way we use any common metal.”

“It’s the only metal they know,” said Dan. “And it’s common here as old iron is with us.”

Raal showed no interest in their find. Gold was nothing more to him than lead or tin. He picked up a yellow nugget from the floor and carelessly threw it away again.

“I don’t think the tribe hollowed this tunnel for gold,” said Dick. “I believe they cut it for use as a temple. And from the rock that was dumped outside they collected the gold that happened to be mixed with the crushed stone.”

“What a find!” Dan repeated over and over. “Why, Dick, this would lead to a gold rush if the news ever got out. Just like the California and Yukon stampedes.”

“I hope nobody lets the word get out!”

“If Jess Slythe knew about it, he’d be here with an army of ruffians,” said Dan.

“And kill off all the tribesmen. It would be a tragedy.”

By this time the boys had reached the square dark chamber, with the stone block on which the idol of the ape-god had once been worshipped. Here the seams of ore were richer and thicker than in the tunnel and the floor of the room was heavy with glinting particles of yellow.

“Jiminy crickets!” gasped Dan Carter. “Gold dust! Think of it, Dick, the place is carpeted with gold dust! We’re rich! Millionaires!”

But Dick was not happy. He had not come there to make money but to discover an ancient tribe. The secret of the gold would mean the slaughter of those people, if the word spread.

When he left the cave he had resolved to swear Dan to secrecy, and as for the cave, he would order the natives to wall up its mouth for fear of evil magic.

Following his visit to Wabiti’s tribe, Dick returned to the Taharan village, where he began teaching the natives the simple arts that they could practice.

The women were shown how the wool of wild sheep and the hair of goats could be spun into yarn, and he had primitive looms set up in caves, where cloth was woven.

Veena, the pretty little handmaiden of the old queen, was quick to learn and as she was fond of Dick and anxious to please him, she was among the first to produce a fine piece of cloth.

Veena blushed with pleasure when he praised it and looked at him shyly, then cast down her blue eyes much like one of the girls at home. With her fair skin and blond hair, Veena might have been his own sister.

The sharp-faced Queen Vanga, was given an occupation to keep her quiet. Now that she no longer ruled the tribe, Vanga was set to overseeing the women who spun and wove. She did it with relish.

“Work faster, you lazy creatures!” she cried. “Don’t stop to gossip! Don’t go to sleep over your work!” and if any of them talked back, she did not hesitate to box their ears. Old Vanga was still a queen.

Dan was especially useful in teaching the men of the tribe something about farming and horse-breaking. Both Dan and Dick had been in Arizona long enough to see how the cowboys did things and soon the Taharans had learned to make lariats out of their palm fibre ropes. Dick and Dan took turns in showing them how to lasso and throw the little wild horses, which the tribe owned but had never learned to use.

“Can you beat it!” exclaimed Dan. “These fellows think a pony is good for just one thing. They raise them for food.”

“They are rather small to ride,” said Dick, “but I’ll tell you what, we’ll break a few to the saddle anyhow.”

“First we’ll have to make a saddle.”

“And then we’ll show these Taharans what a horse-breaker their king can be.”

But that plan had to be delayed for before the horse-breaking could begin a reign of terror swept like a hurricane over the peaceful kingdom of Tahara.