ce glanced around the little
room. On the walls stood shelves of books and stuffed birds and animals.
Bottles of liquids stood in the corners, and over the door was a stuffed
horned owl mounted on a tree branch.

"That looks good!" commented the explorer approvingly. "That owl's a
mighty good piece of work, boys!" He turned to Howard. "There you have
him--nice and clean! You know how to handle a knife, I see. Ever hear
how we tackle the big skins?"

"No," replied Critch with interest. "Tell us about it, Mr. Wallace, if
you don't mind! I've read a little, but nothing definite."

"With soft-skinned animals like deer we usually do just what you're
doing with those rabbits--simply make incisions, slit 'em from neck to
tail and peel off the skins. By the way, what do you use for
preservative?"

"Get it ready-mixed," replied Critch and pointed to the bottles. "It's
odorless, takes the grease out o' the skin, and don't cost much. Guess
I'll use arsenic on these, though. They need something pretty strong."

"I see," went on Mr. Wallace. "Well, with thick skins like elephant or
rhino, it's a different matter. I never fixed an elephant skin myself
but I've seen other fellows do it. They take it off in sections, rub it
well with salt and let it dry after the fat's gone. Then a dozen blacks
get around each section with their paring knives and get busy."

"Paring knives!" cried Burt. "What for?"

"Pare down the skin," smiled Mr. Wallace. "Thick skins are too heavy to
carry and too thick to be pliable, so the skinners often spend a week
paring down a skin till it's portable. Then it's rubbed with salt again
or else packed in brine and shipped down to the coast or back wherever
your agents are, who get it preserved right for you."

They talked for half an hour while the rabbits were being finished. Then
Burt and his uncle left the building, and finding that Mr. St. John had
already gone to lunch, started home themselves.

"Say, Burt," said Mr. Wallace as they walked down the street, "how'd you
like to come to Africa with me next month?"

CHAPTER II

MR. CRITCHFIELD IS INTERVIEWED

"What! Me?" Burt stopped short and stared at his uncle. Mr. Wallace
chuckled and lifted one eyebrow.

"Of course, if you don't want to go--" he began.

"Want to!" shouted Burt, careless of the passers-by who were looking at
them curiously. "You can bet your life I want to! I'd give a million
dollars to go with you!" His face dropped