CHAPTER IV.--TREASURE-HUNTERS. THE FOREST.

The exact topography of Cannibal Glen, as the boys had named this blood-reeking territory, was, however, not the only discovery made to-day.

The other was singular in the extreme. It was nothing less than that of a ruined fort, at no great distance from the place where the balloon was anch.o.r.ed, but high up on the side of a hill and surrounded by a clump of trees.

The fort was built of stone, and still of considerable strength, and so constructed that it could be defended, if occasion demanded, by two resolute young men against four score savages.

Duncan thought it somewhat strange, that there was no footpath leading towards it, and that it seemed to be avoided by the natives.

They found out afterwards that the place had been the scene of a cruel ma.s.sacre of white men--Portuguese without a doubt--and that it was now supposed to be the abode of evil spirits.

All the better for our young adventurers. And they made up their minds to take possession of the old fort the very next day.

That afternoon, however, they removed everything from the car of the balloon, and camped just a little way therefrom.

They had lit a fire really more for the sake of light than heat, and for, many hours after the sun's last glow tipped the snowy summits of the mountains with pink and blue, and the stars had come out, they sat here talking of home. But not of home only, but of their future prospects.

"From several strange cavities I have observed in my rambles to-day,"

said Duncan, "I have come to the conclusion that the white men who built that fort were also miners. Everything points to this fact, and also, alas! to that of their murderous extermination by fire and by the spears of these fiendish savages."

"Yes, Conal, it may have been many long years ago, centuries perhaps, but who can say what discoveries we may not make next. There may be buried treasure!"

Both Conal and Frank opened their eyes wider now.

"What!" cried Frank, "you think--"

"I don't think, Frank, my boy, I am reasoning from a.n.a.logy, as it were.

First and foremost, it is not for nought the glaud whistles."

"I don't hitch on," said the c.o.c.kney boy.

"The glaud," said Conal by way of explanation, "is a wild Scottish hawk, that always whistles aloud before darting on his prey."

"The glaud in this case," said Duncan, "is the Portuguese, who never go into any savage country except for the sake of treasure or plunder.

"Secondly," he continued, "if the band were all ma.s.sacred, they doubtless had hidden their dust, and it is evidently there still.

Thirdly, these cannibal outcasts care nothing for gold, and would at any time give a large and valuable diamond for a coloured bead."

"I do declare," cried Frank, "I sha'n't sleep a wink to-night for thinking of all this. Duncan, you are clever!"

"Have you only just found that out?" said Conal, laughing. Conal was proud of his brother.

"And now," said Duncan, "shall we, after a few days of exploration, get into the balloon once more, and try to find our way to the sea-sh.o.r.e."

"Before I could answer that question myself," he added, "I would like to think it all out, and so I move that we curl up."

Wrapped in their warm rugs--for, at this elevation, though in mid-Africa, a rug is almost a necessity at night--the boys were soon asleep beside the fire, and no one was left on guard except dear old Vike.

He slept with one eye open, or one ear at all events, and was likely to give a good account of any savage who might come prowling around the camp.

But, by way of making a.s.surance doubly sure, the adventurers slept with loaded revolvers close beside them.

They slept heavily.

And that, too, despite the roaring of lions far down in the plains below, and the unearthly shrieks of goodness knows what, that came, ever and again, from the dark depths of the forest.

The sun was just rising over the distant green and hazy horizon when Duncan sat up.

He rubbed his eyes, and gazed around him almost wildly.

"Conal, Frank," he cried them, "awake! awake! Where is the balloon?"

Had there been any echo it might well have answered "Where?"

The balloon was gone!

The explanation was not difficult. For, relieved of its load, it had quietly slipped its moorings during the darkness and gone on a voyage on its own account, goodness only knows where. And our heroes would never see it more.

To say that they were not deeply grieved would be far short of the truth. The loss seemed to cut them off entirely from the outer world.

But their hearts were young and buoyant, and so they did not mourn long.

After breakfast, indeed Duncan, who was the recognized leader, laughed lightly, saying as he did so:

"Come, you fellows, don't look so blue. Perhaps the loss of the balloon is a blessing in disguise."

"I don't quite see it," said Frank.

"No, you don't see the balloon. You've looked your very last on that; but listen to logic: We might have journeyed away in that balloon and been carried into regions from which we never could have got free again."

"True enough!" said Conal.

Indeed everything his brother said was right in Conal's eyes.

"Well," said Frank after a pause, "I'm not going to bother about it.

The Pope was correct in saying, 'What is, is right.'"

"It wasn't the Pope, Frank, but Pope the poet."

"Ah, well, it doesn't matter; only I had such grand dreams last night."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, indeed. I was wandering through the diamond mines of Golconda, with Aladdin's lamp in one hand and a horse's nose-bag in the other.

And I filled that nose-bag too, you bet."