CHAPTER III

THE CIRCUS WRECK

“We’re making good time, Blake.”

“That’s right, Joe. It’s a little too fast to suit me. I always get to thinking what would happen if we hit anything at full speed,” and Blake Stewart looked out of the window rather apprehensively at the landscape flitting past.

“Oh, don’t come any of that C. C. Piper talk,” urged Joe, with a laugh at his chum. “Where is he, anyhow?”

“Up in the smoker, I fancy. He said he was going there.”

“And he’ll come back, and complain that he’s full of tobacco germs, or something like that, and won’t live a week.”

“That’s right,” agreed Blake.

The boys, with Mr. Duncan and the theatrical company, were speeding East in a fast train, all of them anxious to reach New York. It was their second day since leaving the coast, and to Joe, though the train was making exceptionally fast time, as Blake remarked, the cars seemed fairly to crawl along.

“I suppose you’re anxious to get there,” remarked Blake, when they had stopped at a station, and were again on the move.

“Yes, they can’t reach New York any too soon for us; can they, Dad?” and Joe glanced toward his father, who was looking at some papers.

“That’s right, son,” came the answer. “Every time I think of poor little Jessie, out there among those savages, it makes me nervous. I haven’t seen her since she was a baby, when I left her in the care of the family I supposed would keep her until I could get back.”

“What did they do with her?” asked Blake, who had not heard all the particulars.

“Well, they had bad luck, too, it seems, and had to separate. In that way both Joe and Jessie became lost to me, but I have Joe back,” and he glanced fondly at his son.

“And you’re not going to lose me again in a hurry, either!” exclaimed the lad. “Folks are too scarce with me to get rid of ’em when I don’t have to. But, Dad, do you really think there is any danger for Jessie?”

“I don’t know, son. I’ve been watching the newspapers lately, and they haven’t said anything about trouble with the natives in Africa. Though it’s so far off, and news travels so slowly in the jungle, that anything might have happened and we wouldn’t know of it until it was all over.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” suggested Blake. “She is in good hands; isn’t she?”

“Yes, the head of the missionary society writes that Mr. and Mrs. Brown have had much experience in Africa. They know the natives, and the latter trust them. Jessie went as a sort of assistant to Mrs. Brown, you know. I can’t imagine, though, why she should go into foreign work.”

“Maybe she wanted to find you, Dad,” suggested Joe. “You know one reason I came out to film those crazy Indians was to have a chance to look you up. Maybe Jessie did the same thing.”

“Perhaps,” admitted Mr. Duncan. “Well, I only hope she is all right. It will be some time before we can see her, even if we have good luck.”

“What route are we going to take?” asked Blake, who was always interested in geography.

“From New York,” spoke Mr. Duncan, consulting some memoranda he had made, “we take a German steamer for Naples, Italy.”

“Italy!” cried Joe. “I thought we were going to Africa.”

“We are,” said his father; “but unless you want to land on the West coast, and travel all the way across the continent, which is almost impossible, in order to get to the Victoria Nyanza, the practical route is by way of Naples, the Mediterranean Sea, Suez Canal, Red Sea, Gulf of Aden, and so out into the Indian Ocean. We will land at Mombasa, and after a trip on the Uganda Railroad we will strike into the interior.”

“It’s a long trip,” sighed Joe.

“Oh, we’ll soon make it,” spoke his father. “It’s better than going around by way of the Cape of Good Hope, and striking up through the Mozambique channel between Africa and Madagascar. It won’t take long, once we get to New York. But the journey in Africa, after we leave the railroad, may be tedious, and, I may as well add, not a little dangerous.”

“Dangerous!” cried Joe.

“Yes, from wild men and wild beasts. But I am going to take all the precautions I can. I am, as you know, boys, fairly well off now, and I can afford to hire something of an expedition to help us in this quest after Jessie. We will have a safari and----”

“What’s a safari?” asked Blake.

“It’s what they call an expedition in Africa,” explained Mr. Duncan. “It consists of porters and native policemen. It’s the only way to travel. Of course, we won’t have as large a one as certain well-known hunters have had, but we will do the best we can. I am bound to find my daughter if I spend my last cent!”

“And we’re with you!” cried Blake. “You can have all my share of the business, Joe!” and he held out his hand to his chum.

“Thanks, old man!” replied the other, and moisture came to his eyes. “It’s good of you, but I don’t want to take your share of the profits.”

“Of course you will!” cried Blake. “Didn’t we make it together? And we’ll spend it together!”

I might explain that the boys had done very well in their moving picture business, and the prize they won for the Indian films had given them a substantial bank account. Mr. Ringold also paid them well, and, though their expenses were heavy, they were fairly well off for boys.

“I don’t believe we’ll have to call on you, Blake,” said Mr. Duncan, with a smile; “but I’m just as much obliged. If my funds do run out, I’ll let you assist me, though, for I know you’ll be glad to do it.”

“That’s what I will!” cried the lad. “I haven’t many folks myself--only my aged uncle--but I want Joe to get all the relatives he can.”

“And I’ll share ’em with you,” added his chum.

The train rushed on, seeming to increase in speed, and others than Blake looked apprehensively out of the windows as the landscape seemed fairly to fly past.

“What’s the hurry, conductor?” asked Mr. Hadley, when that official came through, as the cars swept around a curve with such force that several held on to their seats in fear.

“Making up lost time,” was the short response. “Don’t get nervous. This is the best stretch of the whole road here.”

“Then there’s sure to be a wreck,” predicted C. C. “It’s always on the best stretches that the accidents occur. We’ll leave the track, roll over in a ditch, or go through a bridge--I’m sure of it!”

“Oh, you horrid thing!” cried Miss Shay, another of the actresses. “Can’t some of you men do something to him?” and she appealed to the actors of the company.

“We’ll drop him at the next tank station, if he doesn’t cut out that line of talk,” declared Mr. Levinberg, who played the “villain.”

“What! And have me starve to death?” cried Mr. Piper. “I had almost rather be wrecked in some nice locality where there was plenty to eat. A wreck there----”

He did not finish his words, for at that moment there came a grinding of the brakes on the wheels, so suddenly that several of the passengers were thrown from their seats.

“It’s a wreck, all right!” yelled Blake, getting to his feet.

“Hold on, everybody!” cried Joe.

The train shook and trembled as the engineer endeavored, by the use of the emergency air brake, to bring it to a stop. Then there came a crash, a splintering of wood and a clang of metal.

It was followed by a curious combination of sounds. There were grunts, roars, squeals and trumpetings--the neighing of horses, and the shouts of men. Chains clanked, and a rumble, as of thunder, was heard.

Then the train came to a stop with a jolt that further shook up the theatrical company, which was traveling in a private car.

“For cats’ sake--what’s happened?” cried Blake.

“Some sort of a smash!” declared Joe, crawling out from under a seat, where he had been thrown.

Women were screaming, men were yelling and shouting. The hissing of escaping steam could be heard, and the moving picture boys, looking toward the forward end of their car, saw that part of the roof was torn off. But otherwise the vehicle was not much damaged, and no one appeared to be hurt save for minor cuts and bruises.

Suddenly Miss Lee, who had slid along the aisle to the front end, uttered a scream and came running back.

“What is it; are you hurt?” asked Blake, catching her as she was about to fall.

“No! No! I’m not hurt! But look! A snake! A snake is coming into the car! Oh, stop it!”

The boys looked to where she pointed. Through the crack in the roof something long and sinuous was thrust inside, and began feeling about. It was a dull slate color.

“Snake!” cried Joe. “That’s no snake!”

“What is it, then?” demanded Blake.

“It’s a trunk--an elephant’s trunk!”

“An elephant!” screamed Miss Lee.

“Yes, we----”

“Then we’ve wrecked a circus train!” cried Blake. He put Miss Lee in a seat, and looked out of the window. “That’s what’s happened!” he yelled. “We’ve run into a circus train, and the wild animals are all over the track--most of ’em alive, too!”