was a V. C.," commented Burt, turning past the first
page. "Say most o' this is spoiled!"

The pages were many of them torn, all were smudged and streaked with
dirt, and ominous dark red stains covered a large portion of the
booklet.

"Here's the first place you can read," and Critch turned over a number
of unreadable pages. "Start in right here." Burt settled back and read
aloud as follows:

"'June 1st. Five men down. Yusuf cut off from supplies. Will rush
to-morrow.

"'June 2nd. Rushed. Lost thirteen. Finished Yusuf. Got lots of ivory,
unmounted yet. Read burial service this evening. Big loot to divide.'"

"That next you can't read, most of it," broke in Critch. "There's
something about Pongo, though." Burt nodded and continued:

"'--with odd bit of wood. May be some truth in it. Must investigate.
If the boys will have a go at it--'

"That's all, there," announced Burt. "All that's about the time he
cleaned up on the Arab caravan, eh? Let's see--there's five pages where
everything's mussed up."

"Looks like blood," laughed Critch, "but it ain't. That's the red stuff
the dwarfs use to stain their things with. See here, on this
spear-shaft. There's a lot comes next that he wrote after he set up in
Pongo's place--it was his left arm that was hurt, so he could write all
right. But you can't make out more'n a few scattered words. Turn to the
last page that's written on. There's where the big thing is."

Burt obeyed, turning over the pages rapidly. Most of the writing had
been obliterated or stained over, but although the final page was half
torn away, the remaining words were clear and legible.

"'Dec. 16th. Impossible to carry off the stuff. Must slip away while out
hunting if possible. Not much hope. River runs northwest. May find Arabs
or English traders to the east or north. Will find from Mbopo
whether--'

"And that's all," announced Burt, looking puzzled. "I don't see what you
mean by sayin' there's anything big there, though."

"Read it over again," suggested Critch with a grin. Burt did so, and
once more glanced up with a wondering look.

"You got me, Critch. What are you getting at, anyhow?"

"Don't you see?" cried his chum excitedly. "That part about the river
running northwest!"

"Well, what about it?" demanded Burt.

"Why, which way does the Makua run?"

"If I remember the map," replied Burt slowly, "it runs due west, joins
the Loangi, and meets up with the Congo on the way south. Oh, I s