e village people have 'em, John. The witch doctor'd
kill 'em sure. They'll sleep till morning. If they wake they can be
thankin' us for it."

Critch said nothing. He was pale and his knees felt shaky, for their
task had been no pleasant one, and he fervently trusted that they would
have no more poisoned arrows in future. A few moments later all were
once more gathered about the table in the dining-tent, where Burt
rejoined them. Montenay calmly refilled his pipe and began.

"As I was sayin', Wallace, the yarn is a long one. I'm thinkin' it'll no
bore ye to listen, though," and the Scotchman chuckled.

"Fire away," smiled Wallace grimly. "We have time to burn." For a moment
the other puffed away in silence, his eyes fixed on the tent-wall behind
Burt. Then he began his story, the strangest story which the two
American boys had ever listened to.

"Two years ago, it was. I started out o' Nairobi wi' the most elegant
bunch o' fightin' men ye could find. Took me nigh a month to select 'em.
I laid it out as a scientific trip, to the British authorities, but the
men knew better. I bought 'em all trade-guns wi' lots of ammunition, for
I was after two things.

"Trip before that, I had met up with an Arab dealer called Yusuf Ben
Salir, what misused me like a nigger. He was a slave-merchant on the
quiet, an' would ha' sold me upcountry if I hadn't got away. I was after
him first, and ivory next. We headed off for the Congo line, baggin' a
little ivory as we went.

"One day we learned from the natives that Yusuf was twenty mile ahead of
us wi' plenty o' tusks and a big trade-caravan. Two days later we
caught up, formin' a zareba near his. He had twice as many men, but mine
were picked, ye remember.

"Well, the details o' what happened don't matter. We were busy for three
days, and I will admit that Yusuf had his merits as a fighter. But at
the last his nerve failed him, and when we rushed his zareba, he and his
men made their getaway--leaving everything behind. While I was lookin'
over his stuff I found two things wrapped up in oilskin.

"One was a queer shaped bit o' wood which I flung away, like a fool. The
other was a bit o' cloth with Arabic written on it. I can read the
lingo, and I made out that Yusuf had been down near the pigmy country
an' had run across some yarn about white pigmies."

"White pigmies!" ejaculated Mr. Wallace in astonishment, while a look of
keen interest swept across his face. "Then the story was