“They’ll never come back alive,” predicted C. C., in his most gloomy tones, and then he continued to hum a comic song. “Oh, don’t be so melancholy,” said Miss Lee, one of the actresses. “Terrible place--African jungle,” went on the comedian. “Fevers, wild animals, wilder natives, snakes, elephants, bugs of all kinds, swamps--ugh! Excuse me!” “Oh, I guess we can manage,” said Joe, cheerfully. “If we can’t we’ll send for you,” added Blake, with a laugh. “Never!” cried C. C. Piper. The final scenes at the lighthouse were filmed, the boys and their friends packed up, and then, accompanied by the theatrical company, Joe, Blake and Mr. Duncan started for New York, soon to embark for the jungles of Africa. CHAPTER III THE CIRCUS WRECK “We’re making good time, Blake.” “That’s right, Joe. It’s a little too fast to suit me. I always get to thinking what would happen if we hit anything at full speed,” and Blake Stewart looked out of the window rather apprehensively at the landscape flitting past. “Oh, don’t come any of that C. C. Piper talk,” urged Joe, with a laugh at his chum. “Where is he, anyhow?” “Up in the smoker, I fancy. He said he was going there.” “And he’ll come back, and complain that he’s full of tobacco germs, or something like that, and won’t live a week.” “That’s right,” agreed Blake. The boys, with Mr. Duncan and the theatrical company, were speeding East in a fast train, all of them anxious to reach New York. It was their second day since leaving the coast, and to Joe, though the train was making exceptionally fast time, as Blake remarked, the cars seemed fairly to crawl along. “I suppose you’re anxious to get there,” remarked Blake, when they had stopped at a station, and were again on the move. “Yes, they can’t reach New York any too soon for us; can they, Dad?” and Joe glanced toward his father, who was looking at some papers. “That’s right, son,” came the answer. “Every time I think of poor little Jessie, out there among those savages, it makes me nervous. I haven’t seen her since she was a baby, when I left her in the care of the family I supposed would keep her until I could get back.” “What did they do with her?” asked Blake, who had not heard all the particulars. “Well, they had bad luck, too, it seems, and had to separate. In that way both Joe and Jessie became lost to me, but I have Joe back,” and he glanced fondly at his son. “And you’re not going to lose me again in a hurry, either!” exclaimed the lad. “Folks are too scarce with me to get rid of ’em when I don’t have to. But, Dad, do you really think there is any danger for Jessie?” “I don’t know, son. I’ve been watching the newspapers lately, and they haven’t said anything about trouble with the natives in Africa. Though it’s so far off, and news travels so slowly in the jungle, that anything might have happened and we wouldn’t know of it until it was all over.” “Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” suggested Blake. “She is in good hands; isn’t she?”