And so they had traveled on, the expedition making good time. During the terrible heat of midday, almost on the equator as they were, they rested in shade if they could find it, or under their tents. At night they would seek out some spot near water, tether their animals, raise the canvas shelters, and have supper, dining on the provisions they had brought with them, or on what game Mr. Piper or the sergeant shot. Occasionally the boys themselves, under the guidance of the former soldier, would go out and try their luck at providing the larder with something substantial. And often they were lucky, for the country abounded in game. Then, when the porters came back laden with meat, there would be general rejoicing, Happy One leading the chant in honor of the white men and boys. And now they had come again to a night camp. Fires had been lighted in several places, about which squatted the blacks, with their scanty blankets. But they did not mind the ticks and mosquitoes, as long as they were warm and well fed. “A strange sight,” murmured C. C., as he looked from the tent where all the whites slept, out on the surrounding camp fires. The flames played on the strongly-marked features of the blacks, throwing them into bold relief. Happy One, who had resumed his hyena skull headpiece on getting rid of his burden, went from place to place, here starting a weird song, there pausing to tell some story of the ancient days. The smell of cooking was in the air, for the African porters never seemed to tire of eating. Even as they sang they roasted strips of meat on slender sticks at the blazes. “It sure is strange,” agreed Blake, as he looked on the scene. “Getting the films of the Indians was nothing to this.” “But we haven’t got many films as yet,” said Joe. “No, but we will,” said his chum. “We will soon be at Kargos, and then----” “Then we may find some trace of Sister Jessie,” said Joe, in a low voice. “I only hope we do.” They talked for some time longer, and then turned over and tried to go to sleep. It was not easy work. Their surroundings were strange, and they were not as comfortable as they might have been, though they had brought all the conveniences they could with them. Even at that, with the chattering of baboons in the distance, the night-noises of the wild fowl and the birds, the occasional grunt of a hippo or the louder noise of the rhino, like some locomotive whistling and blowing off steam at the same time, there was enough disturbance to keep even a bigger camp awake. Then, when they did drop off into a doze, there came a sudden alarm. From afar sounded a noise like thunder. It rumbled and roared, and the boys sat up on their collapsible cots. “What is it?” cried Joe. “A storm,” answered his chum. “Lions!” exclaimed Sergeant Hotchkiss, who had caught the words of the frightened porters.