oyously, dancing around the two men. "I knew
Cap'n Mac was all right! Hurray!"

"I wish you'd take us an' get after them white pigmies, though," put in
Critch disconsolately.

"I'd certainly like to get hold of that mummy," asserted Mr. Wallace,
his eyes sparkling. "To say nothing of the ankh!"

"An' to say nothin' o' the ivory an' gold," laughed Montenay.

"But," cried Burt excitedly, "why didn't you get after that lion an'
kill him? I should ha' thought you'd do that right away!"

"No," and Montenay shook his head. "As I told ye, my nerve was pretty
well gone, laddy. The pigmies had guns, but they were old trade-muskets.
None o' them except Mbopo, mebbe, would ha' stood up to the lion. That
chap Mbopo was a good sort. He stood by me right along, took care o' me
when I was sick wi' fever, cured up my wounds, an' learned to speak
passable Scots dialect. It was amusin' to hear the boy speak the
tongue."

"That feudal business interests me," said Mr. Wallace thoughtfully. "Was
this Mbopo a chief?"

"I don't know, rightly," returned the other. "The old witch-doctor was
the boss, but Mbopo seemed to be second in charge. The women o' the
place cultivated yams an' plantains, while the men hunted. They didn't
seem to use poison, like the black dwarfs. That's another queer thing.
They had poisoned weapons, right enough, but they got supplies o' the
stuff from the blacks. Ye mind, the Wambuti and other black dwarfs are
simply parasites on the bigger tribes. Well, these white chaps were
parasites on the black dwarfs, near's I could figure it out."

Critch related what had happened on the launch coming upstream, when the
black boy had caught a glimpse of Montenay's shoulder. The eccentric
explorer laughed heartily.

"They all know it," he said. "The whites couldn't draw it out o' them
wi' tortures, but every tribe hereabouts knows what Pongo is, or think
they do. It's mostly reputation. These niggers are mighty
superstitious."

"Well, we ain't goin' to leave that white pigmy business without doin'
anything, are we?" asked Burt. Captain Mac glanced at his uncle.

"Not if I can help it," he smiled. "How about my original proposition,
Wallace? Now that ye know the yarn, will ye wait here for me while I
take a crack at the pigmies?"

"Why, yes," returned Mr. Wallace slowly. "But frankly, Mac, I think you
would be foolish. We are on the edge of their country, but you'd have to
get through the black fellows first. They wo