on her heart by rescuing her, the
little savage girl was no longer jealous of Ray and wanted to be her
friend.

As for the Mahatma, he stayed in the camp, promising to guide them from
his resting place.

The trail of the fleeing Arabs was not hard to follow, as there were
plenty of hoof prints in the soft earth of the forest, and the
undergrowth gave them no chance to stray from the narrow path.

Yet Dick saw how wise had been the Mahatma's advice to make no attempt
to follow in the previous night's darkness. The way was crooked as a
snake's trail and passed on narrow strips of hard ground between
treacherous swamps, while sometimes a fallen tree was the only bridge
across a sluggish stream.

The mist hung heavy over the forest, so that the depths were veiled in
gray shadow and the sun could not penetrate the low-hanging fog, though
it soon warmed it until it resembled the steam room of a Turkish bath.

"Glory be!" exclaimed Dan, yawning and mopping his wet brow. "This is
a terrible place to be lost. I'd rather be back on the desert. There
you can see where you are going, at any rate!"

"Don't make a noise," cautioned Ray. "We don't know what enemies may
be lurking about."

"That's a fact. Mobogoma and his blacks may be behind any of those
trees, waiting to shoot us full of arrows and make us look like a
pincushion."

"Yes. Or the Arabs may be close by. And that terrible Jess Slythe."

"I hope he is!" Dan exclaimed. "I'd like to get my hands on that
fellow."

"Don't, Dan! It makes me shudder to think of it. He wouldn't think
twice about killing you in cold blood."

"I'm not scared of him!" boasted Dan, who always liked to show off a
little before his sister. "If I could meet him in a fair fight, I'd
soon show you who is the better man."

He was interrupted by the sound of a distant drum. The noise came from
some native camp, that might be miles away and the message it tapped
out in code seemed to convey a lugubrious warning.

"Gosh, that's enough to make a fellow want to creep in and hide,"
muttered Dan. "Suppose it is a signal for some war party to attack us!"

"It does scare a person," Ray admitted. "Here in the jungle everything
is so terrifying and the drums get on my nerves."

Dick was far in advance at the head of the party with Mutaba.

"What do you make of that drum?" he asked.

The guide shook his black head and grinned.

"Is it a war drum?"

"No, Bwana Dick."

"Is it a