folks!" As he spoke Mr. Wallace pulled out a pencil and
pointed to the mouth of the Congo River.

"Here's the mouth of the Congo, you see. Here we step aboard one of the
State steamers. These are about like the steamers plying between New
York and Boston. Following the Congo up and around for twelve hundred
miles, roughly speaking, we come to the Aruwimi river. Up this--and here
we are at Yambuya, the head of navigation on the Aruwimi. From here
we'll go on up by boat or launch for three or four hundred miles
farther, then strike off after elephants."

"But how do you get down there in the first place?" asked Mr. St. John,
who seemed keenly interested.

"Any way you want to!" returned the explorer. "There are lines running
to Banana Point or Boma, the capital, from Antwerp, Lisbon, Bordeaux,
Hamburg, or from England. We'll probably go from England though."

"My gracious!" said Burt's mother. "I had no idea that the Congo was so
near civilization as all that! Are there real launches away up there in
the heart of Africa?"

"Launches? Automobiles, probably!" laughed her husband.

"Of course," agreed Mr. Wallace. "There are motor trucks in service at
several points. We could even take the trip by railroad if we wished,
and we'll telegraph you direct when we reach there!"

"Well that's news to me!" declared Mr. St. John. "I thought that Central
Africa was a blank wilderness filled with gorillas and savages. Seems to
me I remember something about game laws in Roosevelt's book. How about
that?"

"There are stringent laws in Uganda and British East Africa," replied
Mr. Wallace. "But I intend to depend on trade more than on shooting for
my ivory. Now look at this Makua river that runs west, up north of the
Aruwimi. I'm not going to take any chances on being held up at Boma
after getting out. There are several trading companies who'd be tickled
to death to let me bring out a bunch of ivory and then rob me of it at
the last minute. So we're going right up to the Makua and down that
river to the French Congo. I've got a mighty strong pull with the French
people ever since they made me a Commander of the Legion of Honor for my
Sahara explorations."

"I see." Burt's father gazed at the map reflectively then looked up with
a sudden smile. "You say 'we' as if it was all settled, George!"

"Oh, I was talking about young Critchfield and myself," laughed the
explorer. "Come now, Etta, doesn't it sound a whole lot more reasonab