"Leave Mbopo to skin him, Critch. I'm goin' back where it's cool."
His chum nodded, directed Mbopo to skin the lion and followed Burt back to the shade of the hut. There the two boys settled down for a talk.
"We got nothing to worry over now," remarked Critch, "except the getting away. How'll we keep the skin of Pongo?"
"Let Mbopo do that," replied Burt. "They can fix it so it'll keep long enough to get down the river with anyhow." He suddenly sat up. "Say, building that raft is going to be some job! Let's have a look at the river."
"Come on," and Critch sprang to his feet. "If we do get off, Burt, let's take a collection o' these pigmy weapons. Wouldn't they be swell in our rooms at home?"
"Right now I'd take the rooms without anything at all in 'em," grinned Burt, who was fast recovering his spirits in the fresh morning air. A few moments later they reached the village, which stood on the river bank, and descended by a well-worn path to the edge of the stream.
"There's some big trees growin' handy," announced Critch. "How'll we make it?" Burt thought a moment.
"Why," he replied slowly, "take four big logs an' lash 'em in a square. Then put four on top o' them, with a platform. That ought to float pretty high even with a good load. Guess we'll have to make two rafts, though. We couldn't carry any men an' that ivory on one, 'less we made it almighty big."
"The river wouldn't stand for a very big one," suggested Critch. "Go an' get a bunch o' the men, Burt. We might as well pitch in right now."
Burt nodded and returned up the path, leaving Critch to inspect the trees growing at the edge of the river. He returned with a score of men, all of whom brought their little axes. They looked wonderingly at the two boys.