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"I for one am not going to stand calmly by and have my throat cut, or worse still be taken prisoner by this old Muley-Hassan." Old Sikaso glanced approvingly at him. "Well spoken, Four-eyes," said he; "spoken like a son of a warrior."
He had heard enough from Frank of the ways of Muley-Hassan to know that they could not well fall into the hands of a more pitiless foe and that now, with the Golden Eagle gone and the Boy Aviators already at the ivory cache, it was probable that the slave-dealer's rage would render him even more savage than was his wont. In a few rapidly whispered words Billy apprised Lathrop of the situation.
A more unwholesome resting-place in Africa, particularly on the steamy, swampy banks of a river, could hardly be imagined. So indeed Muley-Hassan seemed to think, for after a short time, during which the boys vainly tried to secure some sleep, he ordered Diego to provide them with blankets to place between themselves and the bare earth.
Although Diego in his hurry had not carried off the map but left it lying on the ground, still Frank realized that the Portuguese had not actually needed the document to aid Muley-Hassan to find the cache. The Arab was no doubt familiar with the location anyway, but to head off all danger of the boys getting there first, it was vital to stop Diego at all costs.
He had then dispatched native canoe-men to Muley-Hassan and apprised him of the coming of the boys, and Diego had been at once sent out by the Arab to secure possession of the map if possible and, failing that, to destroy the boys' canoes. That the aeroplane would also have been put out of commission there is little doubt, if Diego or Wiseman could have found an opportunity.
It was a wild scene and the two boys hardly knew whether they were awake or dreaming, as they were roughly hustled into the presence of their captor. Diego de Barros, his cruel, thin lips curled in a sneer that showed his yellow teeth, stood by the side of Muley-Hassan, the latter a tall determined-looking man with a crisp, curly black beard and a sinister cast of features.
"Muley-Hassan," echoed Billy, "why, he is the most cold-blooded fiend in the slave-trade to-day." "Perhaps," answered the old man, "but he was good to me when he was a young man and I have never forgotten it." "Well," he went on, picking up his narrative, "it was not long before retribution overtook the Arabs.
The boys were then given to eat some sort of stew in a big wooden basin and being just healthy American boys and not heroes of romance they ate heartily of the compound and felt better. Muley-Hassan himself examined the cut on Billy's forehead and Lathrop's two wounds and pronounced them mere scratches. Just as it appeared that a start was about to be made the signal bell of the wireless rang.
His ebony body was cut and scarred with the signs of his battle with the thorns and saw-bladed grasses of the dense forest, across which he had cut in desperate haste, scorning all paths in order to warn the Boy Aviators and their chum Ben of the rapid approach of Muley-Hassan.
Why they did not kill me I do not know, unless it was because of the intercession of a young Arab, a mere youth and the son of the chief. I have never forgotten his name or his kindness." "What was his name?" asked Billy, who was deeply interested and wanted to get every detail of the extraordinary story. "Muley-Hassan!" was the amazing reply.
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