“I guess so,” said Joe, but even this thought could not make him forget his sister. The trip to Mombasa was without incident, and they were soon dropping anchor in that beautiful harbor. It is an ancient African city, and the boys and their companions found many Englishmen there as well as some of their own countrymen. They put up at a hotel, and on making inquiries learned where best to apply to be fitted out for a trip into the interior. They had, besides their personal baggage, their moving picture cameras, and a considerable quantity of film. “And now, since we know we may have a brush with the natives,” said Joe, “we’ll have to get arms.” “Yes, indeed,” agreed C. C. “And I want a heavy hunting rifle. I’m out after big game, though it may get me----. Oh, I don’t mean that!” he cried hastily. “I’m going to try not to be gloomy on this trip,” and he smiled reassuringly. Our friends were fortunate enough to obtain the services of a veteran hunter and guide, a Sergeant Hotchkiss, who had fought in the Boer war. He agreed to accompany them into the interior, and to arrange for a safari once they reached Lake Nyanza. “But you had better bargain for your provisions and supplies here,” he said; “that is, all but the meat, which you will have to shoot as you want it. You’re going to a good game country.” This was done, and, about a week after arriving at Mombasa, Joe, Blake and the little party took a train on the Uganda railroad, their supplies, cameras, films and other things going with them. “Off for the jungle!” cried Blake, as they pulled out of the station. “Into the interior.” “For Jessie and the wild animal pictures,” added Joe. “But it’s Jessie first!” “That’s right!” cried his father. CHAPTER IX THE SAFARI The queer English-style coaches, specially made to afford protection against the tropical sun; the odd little engine and many other things about the railroad through Africa, making it much different from the lines in the United States, caused the moving picture boys, Mr. Duncan and C. C. Piper no small amount of wonder at first. Everything seemed to be done contrary to what it was in their country. “But you’ll generally find,” said Sergeant Hotchkiss, with pardonable pride in his nation’s progress, “that we get along fairly well over here.” “That’s right,” agreed Blake. And when they came to think of a railroad actually being built through part of the former “Dark Continent,” where, until comparatively recently, no white man had ever set foot, they marveled. “The British government,” went on the sergeant, “has made this a game preserve, almost up to the line of the railroad, in fact, with the idea of having travelers, who wish to, see nature at its wildest and as it really is. Nearly all game is protected, and licenses have to be procured to shoot a certain number of each species.” “We don’t need any,” said Joe, “for all we’re going to do is to shoot ’em with our moving picture machines.”