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 Dick’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 Dick 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 Dick. “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?” Dick 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, Dick. 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 Dick. “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 Dick 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.
Their bodies were dripping and it was hard to breathe.

Most of the time they were in the shade of the huge trees, but once in a while the canoe darted into a patch of sunshine and then the rays of the afternoon sun beat down upon them fiercely.

The Taharans minded the humidity and so did the Gorols, while Dick and Dan were terribly fagged, but the black men did not seem to notice it. Their ebony-like bodies were wet with perspiration, but they seemed cheerful and eager. Only the command of the Mahatma kept them from breaking into song.

The boys looked into the jungle on both sides and saw that it was densely tangled with hanging vines. Here and there a clump of bamboo made a barrier that only a hatchet could cut through; elsewhere the forest was overgrown with small trees forcing their way to the sunlight, and among them could be seen the stealthy shapes of wild beasts.

“Hope we don’t run into leopards or lions,” said Dan. “It’s going to be tough to fight the tribesmen, and we don’t want to be clawed by wild animals before the scrap begins.”

“That’s a chance we have to take.”

“You said it! Hey! Look at that! Duck for your life!”

From a near-by branch, a long sinuous object like a giant creeper, suddenly swung toward them. It showed a murderous head, with wide open jaws and a tongue that darted angrily.

“Great snakes!” shouted Dan, striking at it with his paddle.

But the canoe had darted past the danger before the scaly monster could attack and Dan breathed more easily.

“Look there in the shadows,” said Dick. “Elephants, as I’m alive!”

“And whoppers!” cried Dan. “Say, I never saw them that big before. Not even in a circus!”

“They are dangerous to fool with,” Dick remarked. “I would hate to be in front of that old bull if he started to charge.”

The biggest elephant in the herd seemed the size of a freight car as he calmly reached into the tree tops and pulled down the tender foliage. His trunk stretched high above his head as he felt for the tender shoots.

“A regular boarding house reach!” laughed Dan, forgetting his suspense for a moment. “Say that bozo would never have to say, ’Please pass the butter.’ He could grab it from the other end of the table.”

One of the Taharans gave a cry of astonishment at seeing the huge creature so near by, and at the noise the elephant faced about, waving his enormous ears and looking at the intruders with an expression of anger in his little, intelligent eyes.

“I feel safer out here!” Dan observed. “What use would a bow and arrow be against that tough hide?”

“You’re right. Even my old fashioned Arab gun would hardly send a bullet through it.”

“How do you suppose the Stone-Age men ever hunted mastodons?” asked Dan. “Those woolly mastodons with long curving tusks were lots bigger than the elephant.”

“I guess it was the mastodon that did the hunting in those days,” Dick answered. “The cave-men were not the hunters but the hunted, if you ask me.”

“And that goes for the sabre-toothed tiger, too.”

“I bet it was a toss-up whether the human race would conquer the animals or be eaten by them in the Stone-Age,” said Dick. “Maybe that’s why the people of today get scared and have panics so easily. It may be a hang-over from the fear that haunted our ancestors.”

“I can’t say I’m exactly scared ” Dan Carter began, but before he could finish his sentence a shout from a boatman startled him and he answered with a yell of terror.

The canoe was passing close to a shallow spot and suddenly a pair of jaws snapped open right alongside. They were so wide that it looked as though they could crash through the canoe with one bite, and the vicious rows of teeth could easily slice through a man’s body.

Dan thought he was facing a horrible death in that instant and in fact he had never had a narrower escape. As he yelled, he threw himself flat, but the black guide, Mutaba showed no sign of fear.

Mutaba had hunted crocodiles before and knew what to do. His black arm shot out like lightning with a heavy stick in his fist. It was sharpened at both ends and as Mutaba thrust it upright between the monster’s rows of teeth and the jaws snapped to close, the upper and lower jaw were stuck on the points of the stake.

Mutaba grinned as he jerked away his hand and the canoe darted past, just in the nick of time, for the enraged monster thrashed about with his tail, churning the muddy water to foam.

The man-eater was trapped.

The harder he struggled, the more firmly he impaled his open jaws upon the sharp stick, and all his thrashing about was futile, for the following boats sped by close to the opposite bank.

“Those black fellows are smart!” gasped Dan. “Jehosephat, I thought I was a goner, sure!”

“The natives are pretty well pleased!” said Dick. “Listen to them laugh and jeer at the unlucky beast.”

“Don’t waste any pity on crocodiles! This one was ready to make a lunch out of me.”

“I am not sorry for him. And it’s no wonder the natives hate those man-eaters that lurk in the shallows to snap off an arm.”

“I’ve read that they are particularly fond of black children,” said Dan, “so there’s one croc’ at least that won’t eat any babies.”

“Hush! Listen!” said Dick.

Close to his ear came the even voice of the Mahatma as before:

“Quiet, my children. We are near the journey’s end.”

Dick and Dan stared at each other. It was uncanny. They were sure this time that they had not actually heard the Mahatma’s voice, but that their minds had received the message in some occult way.

Shadows were slanting from the west. The river was wider now and the surface was sluggish with hardly a ripple.

From the depths of the forest echoed the weird call of a bird with a human note that sounded like lunatic laughter. Otherwise all was still and the shadows of the jungle seemed to grow blacker and more mysterious at every moment.

“It’s spooky,” whispered Dan. “Like passing a haunted house at midnight.”

“Cheer up,” said Dick. “It’s going to be worse when we have to cut a path through it.”

“Just the same, I’d go through worse than this to save your father and my sister.”

“I don’t suppose my Dad worries as much as we do. Being a scientist, he is seeing so many new plants, animals and birds, that he has no time to get scared. But Ray, poor girl, she must be terrified. If only we can get to her before it is too late!”

“The Mahatma said we would save her.”

“But you didn’t believe a word he said. You were always kidding him.”

“I believe in him now,” said Dan. “Boy, how I believe in him!”

“I would like him better if he would let us have some of his warriors,” said Dick. “He’s doing us a good turn by lending the canoes and showing us how to reach the Muta-Gunga camp but what worries me is that the Taharans and Gorols are not used to this country and won’t know much about fighting in the jungle.”

“That’s so, they will be at a disadvantage in a battle with these jungle savages who know every inch of the ground,” said Dan thoughtfully. “They’re brave enough but it would help if they had a few of the natives of the section to show them the way around.”

“Never mind, we will take a chance,” said Dick. “We’re going to win out! And come through with flying colors!”