A little later there came a shout from the porters who were in the lead. There appeared to be considerable excitement, and at first the boys thought something had happened. “An attack by some wild animal!” cried Joe. “A lion, maybe,” added Blake. “Get the camera ready.” “That isn’t an alarm,” said Sergeant Hotchkiss, quietly. “What is it, then?” asked Mr. Duncan. “They are singing a song of lament--of sorrow,” was the answer. A chill struck to the hearts of the boys, as they pushed forward. What would they see? “It must be the station where--where Jessie was,” said Mr. Duncan, brokenly. “If there are any of the mission people left they may be able to----” But he did not finish. Accompanied by the boys he made a turn in the trail which brought him to the little clearing where the mission had been. But the station was gone. It had been destroyed, and nothing but a fire-blackened area marked where it had stood. There were the ruins of the buildings, and of the charred huts occupied by the natives from whom an attempt had been made to lift the darkness of ignorance. All was gone! The little church was burned--nothing but a pile of charred timbers. The raiders had done their work well. The song of the African porters seemed to become more and more melancholy. They felt for their white employers, for the story of the search for the daughter of Mr. Duncan was known to all. “Nothing left!” exclaimed Mr. Duncan, and he placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Not a trace. Oh, my poor Jessie!” There was silence for a moment, and then C. C. Piper, who had gone forward, uttered a cry--a cry of joy, it seemed. “What is it?” asked Blake, eagerly. “Have you a clue?” “I think I have, and a good one, too!” replied the actor-hunter. CHAPTER XIII THE LION HUNT Crowding around Mr. Piper they all tried at once to look at what he had picked up. It was something covered with dust and ashes--something swollen with the rains that had fallen--a strange, misshapen thing, that seemed to be a book, and yet which might have been almost anything. “What is it?” cried Joe. “Is it any message from my daughter?” demanded the former sailor, as with trembling hands he reached for it. “It’s a small Bible,” said C. C., as he examined it. “But there is some writing on the first page.” Blake, feeling that this was too sacred a moment for him to intrude, held back, as did Sergeant Hotchkiss. Joe and his father took the little book, which had almost lost semblance to itself. “It is a Bible,” spoke Joe, softly. “And here is Jessie’s name in it,” went on Mr. Duncan, as he scanned the writing on the first page. “It is a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Oh, how glad I am that I have this memento of my little girl. If only----” “There’s more writing there, Dad!” exclaimed Joe, as he looked over his father’s shoulder. “And it’s in a different hand from the other. Could Jessie have written that?” Anxiously Mr. Duncan scanned it. Then he cried out: