al's proposed trip, a number of men
who had been in Africa promptly carried all three off to the library and
there ensued a high discussion. Most of them flatly declared that living
on the land might be possible, but that moccasins and traps were absurd.

"But why?" laughed the General. "You fellows wear puttees and leather
breeches to keep dry, and safe from scratches or snakes. Moccasins are
equally as good, especially high ones like ours, and a whole lot more
comfortable. You chaps who go in for big game with all the comforts of
home don't know what real work is like!"

This good-natured taunt happened to hit most of those around, and the
situation looked stormy until a little, awkward-looking man strolled up
and joined in.

"Nonsense!" His irritated voice shrilled high above the rest. "Shut up,
you fools! Why, what do you know about East Africa? When I tramped from
Fort Rosebury to Kituta in my bare hide I got nothing worse than
mosquito bites, and I've had to make moccasins many a time or go
barefoot. I'm leaving this afternoon for Africa; how many of you chaps
want to go with me? Don't all speak at once, please."

Charlie stared, expecting to see the little, bitter-tongued man mobbed.
But to his vast surprise not a word was said, and the dilettante hunters
faded away one by one. The little man turned to Schoverling with a
bristling laugh of delight.

"See 'em run, General? Going in, I hear."

"Boys, I'd like to have you meet Mr. Mowbray," said the explorer,
introducing the two. "You aren't going to British territory, I suppose?"

"Never you mind, my son," snapped the little man. "Give me back my map.
Just got in from Washington an hour ago, and leave in another hour. I'll
need that map worse than you will--got wind of something big."

As Schoverling pulled out the folded map and handed it over, Mowbray
lowered his voice.

"I'll beat you there by some time, old boy, but I'll be around. Let you
in on it, if I can't handle it. Good-looking boys, there. Keep your ears
open for a nigger who says 'Me debbil man.' You can trust him. Got to
go, General. Mighty glad to have met you, boys--see you later, maybe.
Besselama!"

"Jumping sandhills!" ejaculated Charlie. "Who's he? A grand mogul around
here? What's that last word mean?"

"Arabic for 'so-long,'" smiled the General.

"What made 'em all shut up when he handed it to them?" inquired Jack
curiously.

"That's the chap, of course, who lent me the map, boys