“But I won’t be here long,” groaned C. C. “I haven’t much longer to live, boys. That’s why I sent for you.” “They all imagine that,” whispered the steward to Joe and Blake. “It’s only a bad case of sea-sickness. He’ll be over it soon. The doctor has given him some stuff. But they all imagine they’re going to die, and some of ’em are afraid they won’t. He will be up eating as hearty as an elephant soon.” “Never!” cried C. C., gloomily. “I’ll never eat again,” but, even as he spoke he seemed to have gained a little in hope, since the boys had come to see him. Blake decided to solve the mystery. “How under the sun did you come here?” he asked. “The last we heard of you was that you had taken a few days’ vacation.” “I decided to take a longer one,” said Mr. Piper, his voice growing stronger. “When I got away from the theatrical crowd I just couldn’t bear to go back. I had some money saved up, and the idea of doing more moving picture dramas was distasteful to me. So I just decided to go to Africa with you boys.” “Go to Africa with us!” cried Joe. “Yes. You won’t object; will you? I’ll pay my own way, and I may be able to help you. I used to be a good shot, and I have traveled considerable. I’ve been in India, and shot lions and tigers, to say nothing of elephants.” “You have!” exclaimed Blake, with a new admiration for the actor. “Yes, I know something of big game, though not in Africa. Let me go along.” “I haven’t any objections,” spoke Blake, rather glad, on the whole, that C. C. was along. In spite of his gloom he could be jolly at times. “Me either,” added Joe. “But how did you happen to come here, and we not know it?” “Well, I decided to make it a sort of surprise,” said the actor. “I learned which ship you were sailing on, and engaged passage. I asked the purser and captain to keep my name off the list until the last minute, and they did; so you never saw it. I intended to keep to my room, or at best go out on deck only at night, until we got to the other side. I was afraid your father might object,” he said to Joe. “I guess he’ll be glad to have some one along who knows how to shoot,” spoke the boy. “Blake and I aren’t much with guns.” “Well,” went on C. C., “the storm was too much for me. I was afraid I might die, and I wanted to see you before I went. So I sent for you; but, I declare, I feel better already.” “That’s always the way!” declared the steward. “You had better have something to eat.” “Eat! Ugh--er--I think I will!” cried Mr. Piper. “It may kill me, but I might as well die that way as starve. Bring me a good meal, steward,” and as the man left C. C. told the boys how he had secretly purchased his ticket, and had sent a note to Mr. Ringold, telling the theatrical man that he would have to get another comedian.