“Well, that’s what he _thought_ it was,” said Mr. Hotchkiss. “It really was only a big thorn he stepped on, though. But he might have raised the whole jungle about our ears if he hadn’t been quieted.” “What did you do for him?” asked Blake. “I handed him an old key-ring I happened to have in my pocket,” said Mr. Hotchkiss. “It had some keys on it, and he was tickled almost to pieces with the jingle. He forgot all about his hurt, and quieted down. I just had to have silence. It’s ticklish business at best, sneaking up on an African camp.” “Are we near there?” asked Joe. “Yes, pretty close now. Don’t make any more noise than you can help.” Again the line was formed, and the advance continued. It went on in silence for some time, until suddenly, off to the left, there came a sound like distant thunder. “What’s that?” asked Joe. “Lions, I guess,” replied Blake. From the natives about them came the murmur: “Simba! Simba!” “Quiet there!” commanded Mr. Hotchkiss. “No lions will come near this party. Move on!” The roaring died away, only to be repeated a little later, somewhat farther in advance. “This is bad,” murmured Blake. “It sure is,” agreed his chum. “If those beasts make an attack it’s bound to give the whole game away.” “Oh, what a picture this would make!” murmured Blake. “But we wouldn’t dare try to film it,” said Joe. “It would give us dead away. Hark to that, would you!” As he spoke the very ground seemed to vibrate with the sound of the roaring of the lions. There was almost a panic of fear among the natives until the white men in charge had assured them that there was no danger. A halt was made, and a number of the black men begged that fires might be lighted to scare away the jungle beasts. But Mr. Hotchkiss knew this would be risky. Instead, he ordered those of his companions who had them to display their pocket electric torches. These tiny, flashing lights seemed to have the desired effect, for the roaring of the lions died away. Then the cavalcade advanced once more, Joe’s mind filled with anxious thoughts about the rescue of his sister. The natives carried their spears, or bows and arrows. The white men had their guns, Joe and Blake had a revolver each for use in emergency; but their main arms were the fireworks, carried for them by several bearers. On reaching the mound where they had spied on the camp that afternoon a party, under C. C. Piper, was sent around to begin hostilities in the rear. “Fire as soon as you are there,” said Mr. Hotchkiss. “But shoot in the air. If we can scare them, without hurting any one, so much the better. Ready now! March! As soon as you attack, we’ll get busy here!” CHAPTER XXIV A VICTORY