CHAPTER XIV
THE LAKE OF MYSTERY
"This stream must be the outlet of the warm lake, all right," said Schoverling the next morning as they sat at breakfast. "There seems to be low hills ahead of us, but I think the wagon can get along."
"Yes," announced the doctor. "The hot lake must be of volcanic origin, a very long time ago. These things one meets with often in Africa. I must shoot one of those big buffalo, please."
"Then you'd better take my heavy gun," offered Charlie. "I've shot all of 'em I care to." The doctor's white teeth flashed, as he nodded.
"If it was anywhere else we could ride ahead and pick out a road," said Jack. "But we wouldn't dare leave the wagon here."
"Not much," laughed Schoverling. "If we'd been gone yesterday we'd have had to settle down here for life. Well, let's inspan."
"Let's see that plan of Mowbray's—the Arabic one," said Charlie. The explorer found it and tossed it over. The two boys pored over the rudely-drawn chart while the oxen were being inspanned.
"This must be the river we're on," and Jack pointed to the line of a stream flowing to the south and west of a small lake. "Why couldn't we—"