uch grinding, anyhow. The General didn't fall for his line of talk
worth a cent. Well, let's get back; it's almost time for lunch--or what
do they call it here? Tiff 'em?"

"Tiffin," chuckled his friend; "same's they do in India. There's a heap
of Indians all down the coast, 'cause it's a Mohammedan country an' they
don't lose caste by coming over to work."

All of which explanation was largely lost on Jack. Charlie knew a good
deal of the East Indians, having witnessed most of the Hindu immigrant
riots in western Canada, and he was frankly interested in them as a
race.

When they returned to the after awning they found Selim just saying
good-bye. He was to leave the ship at Ras al Kyle, a port on the Italian
Somaliland coast, and they were nearly due to reach there. So he suavely
bowed himself away, in odd contrast to his Boer-like appearance, and the
boys immediately deluged the General with questions. Dr. von Hofe
rumbled out a laugh.

"Would you prefer my absence, General? I--"

"Nonsense, Doctor!" broke in Schoverling sharply. "Here is all I know,"
and he told the big German of meeting Mowbray, and of the latter's
words.

"So!" drawled von Hofe. "Then, this Selim ben Amoud is who?"

"I have heard that he is the wealthiest Arab on the east coast," replied
the American. "You noticed, I suppose, what he first said?"

Charlie nodded eagerly.

"Privately, I have no doubt that he is a slaver," went on the explorer.
"He has a hand in everything, and is always in hot water with the
British authorities. He was trying to find out whether or not our
expedition had anything to do with that of Mowbray. I have met him
before and we know each other slightly."

"Well," asked Jack, "is Mowbray going to the magic lake?"

The explorer laughed. "Who knows? The whole yarn may be a
bluff--probably is. Selim would like the British to think that
Mowbray's party is merely exploring, and perhaps he thinks we will
spread the news, in which he is mistaken. Or, he may have been honest in
the matter; you can never tell what lies behind his words."

At this Charlie's face fell slightly. He had been intensely interested
in the Arab's tale, and the thought that it was a put-up job did not
appeal to him in the least.

"But wasn't it true?" he inquired, disappointed. "It sounded pretty good
to me!"

"Frankly, Charlie, I don't believe a word of it. You can hear yarns like
that wherever you go, and they usually pan out pretty small--