“And they’re used to being clawed,” explained the sergeant. He talked with the head hunter, who explained that the lion was the very one that had been devastating their village. They recognized him by a spear wound in his flank, given by a native the beast had attacked. There was further rejoicing among the blacks, as they carried off the body of the lion, as well as the form of their comrade, on their shields, Joe and Blake filming the triumphant march and the dance of rejoicing around the fallen foe. Then, returning to where they had left their porters, our friends once more started on the trail they hoped would lead to the captive missionaries and Jessie Duncan. For three days they traveled on, sometimes easily and again under hardships. The trail seemed to become more and more plain as they advanced, and there were indications of foraging and hunting parties having made trips into the jungle. “We’ll soon be up to them,” said the sergeant, one afternoon. “And what will happen?” asked Mr. Duncan. “It’s hard to say,” was the answer, “but we must prepare for the worst.” “Or the--best!” exclaimed C. C., in hearty tones. Just as dusk was settling down they came to the outlying huts of an African village. The expedition closed up, and the porters grasped their spears. The whites got out their guns. “According to all signs this is where the trail ends,” said the sergeant. “We will ask them what we want to know, and if they have the captives here----” “We’ll make them give ’em up!” cried Joe, fiercely. Nearer they came to the village. Men and women and children ran out. There were excited shouts and cries, and then, to the astonishment of all, the porters began to sing and dance. They rushed forward and clasped hands with the villagers. “What does that mean?” asked Joe, bewildered. “They don’t seem very hostile,” said Blake. Sergeant Hotchkiss talked rapidly in the native dialect. Then, turning to the whites, he said: “We’ve made a mistake. We’ve been on the wrong trail all the time!” “The wrong trail?” asked Joe. “Weren’t these the natives who were at the burned mission station?” “Yes, but not until after it was burned. They came from there, and it is their trail we have been following. But the other savages were there before them, and did the damage. We have followed the wrong trail!” CHAPTER XV AT THE WATER HOLE Disappointment was the portion of our friends. They had been so sure all along that they were on the right trail that to get to the end and find that all their work had been a failure came as a shock to them. “Are you sure you are right?” asked Mr. Duncan. “Is it not possible that these natives may be deceiving us? Have they hidden my daughter away somewhere?” Eagerly he looked through the gathering dusk amid the native huts. Joe, too, started forward, followed by his chum. “No; I think these natives are honest in what they say,” spoke Sergeant Hotchkiss. “But there is just a chance,” said Blake.