“Don’t tell Dad all about it,” suggested Joe to his chum. “He may think it was worse than it really was, and not let us go out again. He doesn’t know that we’ve been used to taking chances; Blake, and he still thinks, in a way, that I’m only a little chap. Do you see?” “Yes,” agreed his chum. “We won’t make him worry any.” But if Mr. Duncan did not understand the danger of filming a hippo at the charge, Sergeant Hotchkiss did, and he warned the boys, in private, to be very careful. The landing of the freight was accomplished, and once more the trip across the lake was begun. Ordinarily this voyage, from Port Florence to Entebbe, takes but twenty-four hours, but the steamer carrying our friends was a slow one, and in addition had to make many stops. Then, too, something happened to the engine once or twice, and there were long delays for repairs. So that they were three days making the passage. Eventually, however, Entebbe was reached. This was quite a large town, where many English and other white residents lived. Many marks of civilization were observed, there being even a private auto garage, while a number of bicyclists were seen on the streets. “Think of that--in Africa!” cried Joe. “I’ll be looking for a sign of Broadway and Forty-second street soon,” said Blake. “Oh, Africa isn’t half so uncivilized as it was,” said Sergeant Hotchkiss; “and yet don’t go away with the notion that this town is far removed from the jungle. It isn’t. Why, on the outskirts the wild animals come in. Herds of zebras often spoil the fruit trees, and flower and vegetable beds. And there is danger from other beasts, too. Often people are attacked going from one house to another at night, and I have heard it said that on going out to spend the evening the men always take guns. They might have to use it on a rhino or something coming home.” “Really?” asked Mr. Duncan. “That’s a fact,” the sergeant assured him, and, to my readers, I might add that all the essential facts given in this book, both as regards the wild animal life of Africa, as well as the making of moving pictures, are true, and can be verified by those who care to do so. In the native part of Entebbe dwelt the young King of Uganda, and the boys had a chance to take some moving pictures of him and his court, some of the attendants at which had adopted European dress, while the others wore nothing but a blanket. Even the king was still enough of a barbarian to delight in the beating of many drums, though he had an English tutor. “This is too civilized for us,” remarked Blake one day, when they had been in Entebbe about a week making further arrangements to go into the interior. “Look at ’em playing tennis, Joe,” and he pointed to a court where some of the English residents were enjoying a game. “That’s right, Blake. We ought to be in the jungle. But I guess we’re almost ready to trek. Dad is getting impatient.”