One of the hunters appeared in a highly excited state and John motioned to the boys to get out their guns. They now advanced more cautiously as they saw the Bantus in front gesturing to them and in another moment sighted two giraffes standing in an open glade ahead.
As the boys raised their guns something flashed out from the farther side of the thicket and both animals gave a leap. Without stopping to think what it was the boys fired. Burt hit the animal on the right and he dropped to his knees, then bounded off and the boy brought him down with his second barrel. Critch had hit the other giraffe in the brain and killed him instantly.
The boys sprang forward with a shout of joy but were stopped by John's voice. "Come back!" cried the big Liberian. "Pigmies in there."
"What!" Critch whirled incredulously. "Where?"
"Them shoot arrows first. Maybe mad 'cause we kill giraffes. Go back quick—"
The hurried order was stopped by a frenzied yell from the Bantus. Dark objects flitted through the trees at their side and the hunters broke in wild fear. Before the boys could stir in their tracks they saw John reel and fall suddenly. At the same time something struck and threw them to the ground, and despite their struggles they were bound hand and foot while skins thrown around their heads made them gasp for light and air.
It was all done so swiftly that Burt hardly realized what had happened before he felt himself picked up and carried off. He could not know that Critch was close behind him and he was in an agony of suspense. Had his chum and big John been killed? He tried to call out but the skin around his head stifled him. He could hear nothing save an occasional guttural clicking word from his bearers and was forced to resign himself to his fate.
It seemed that he was borne along for ages. His head was protected, but mosquitoes and gnats settled on his bound hands until his arms seemed to be dipped in living flame. Then he heard his captors splashing through shallow water and knew that they were crossing the river into the jungle beyond. After this they slipped through thorn-laden bushes that ripped his clothes to shreds, and once a black wasp's sting drew a groan of pain from the boy, for the touch was like hot iron to his hand.
He did not doubt for a moment that he was captured by pigmies. If only they had grasped John's warning an instant sooner! Burt groaned again as he remembered how the big Liberian had reeled and fallen. And what would his uncle do? The thought gave him sudden hope. His uncle would know he had been carried off, surely! But if Captain Mac had failed to penetrate the jungle even with his "pull," how could he look to his uncle for rescue?