stand for
that branding stunt?"

"Not if I know it," came the quick response. "S'pose we can't help
ourselves, though. See what turns up."

"No talkee," cautioned their guide. They drew near the fires, and saw
that the whole tribe was gathered around in a semicircle, enjoying a
huge feast. In the center of this semicircle, not far from the thorn
wall, the old chief reclined on his throne of rugs, the tom-tom beaters
near him. Mbopo, who plainly stood in great awe of the wizened
potentate, fell on his face in salute. Once more the boys calmly met the
evil black eyes that stared at them, and Burt could see small hope in
the malevolent glare of the chief.

After a few murmured words from Mbopo the chief gave a sharp order. A
dozen feet distant stood a small fire, over which hung some meat on
spits. This was removed, and a warrior brought forward a long thin
object that sent a thrill through Burt. It was a rudely-fashioned
branding iron.

The warrior thrust one end into the fire. Burt moved closer to his chum,
with fists clenched. He knew well how useless it would be to put up any
fight, but he was determined not to give in to the torture without a
struggle. The old chief smiled slightly at the action, and gave a
motion. Four of the little warriors, only reaching to the shoulder of
the boys, stepped forward with axes ready.

"No use, old man," said Critch quietly. "We'll have to take our
medicine, I guess."

The four warriors led the boys to the fire. One of them reached up and
deliberately tore Burt's tattered shirt from his shoulder. The
pale-faced boy made no move to resist, and next moment the white-hot
iron was taken from the fire, and the tom-toms rolled forth their
thunder.

But at that instant even the noise of the great drums was drowned in an
appalling roar that turned the eyes of all upon the thorn wall. The
startled boys saw the latter bend, there came another terrific roar,
then the stout thorn zareba was burst apart and into the enclosure
rolled the form of an immense lion!

Before a move could be made the cat-like animal regained his feet, gave
one quick sniff of the air, and pounced on the old chief, who was
struggling to rise. To the surprise of the boys the crowd fell
prostrate; a murmur of "Pongo! Pongo!" went up, and a moment later the
lion gave one bound and had vanished in the night, unharmed. And with
him went the chief of the white dwarfs.

CHAPTER XV

THE IVORY ZAREBA

The w