In half an hour they were standing on a slight rise that sloped down gently to the waters of the lake. These were thickly cloaked with reeds, but there was no sign of the high jets of hot water of Selim's story on the Mombasa.
"See that steam up at the other end of the lake?" said Schoverling, looking through his glasses. "That's where the hot springs are, no doubt."
"There's the island," cried Jack excitedly, who had moved a hundred feet away. Joining him, the others were now able to see a low island which had been hidden by intervening trees. It lay barely half a mile beyond them, and seemed almost a part of the shore. Beyond this the trees seemed to get thicker, while across the lake itself the green and brown hills rose to the height of a few hundred feet. In fact, hills seemed to be all around them, save to the south.
"Shouldn't wonder if this was one of the craters of an old volcano," declared the General.
"The ground has risen slightly, since we left the wagon, and those hills all around would indicate such a thing, as would the steaming hot springs up at the other end. Well, we can ride forward to the island. Mowbray's camp must be there somewhere."
Keeping a wary eye open for any danger, they rode on until they arrived opposite the island. Here, under a group of spreading mimosas, they saw vague signs of an old camp. All was overgrown with vegetation, but as they rode down to it the indications of a camp were clear.
"There are tattered old tents, all right," exclaimed Charlie in huge excitement. "But animals and the weather have covered things up pretty well."
Arriving on the spot, they leaped from their saddles and kicked away vines.
"Here's a gun-butt," shouted Jack, holding up a moulded fragment of wood. "And here's the rest of it—an elephant gun."
Schoverling took the pieces and fitted them together. The barrels were twisted and bent, the stock splintered. Rubbing the latter clear of mould, something gleamed in the sun and he uttered an exclamation.