“Are we going?” cried Frank eagerly.
Mr. Hampton nodded, and Jack shouted, “First thing in the morning.”
“Fine,” cried Bob. “I was about fed up with this district, anyway. Not enough excitement.” Mr. Hampton looked grave.
“You’ll get enough of that where we’re going,” he said.
“Anything beside volcanoes?” queried Bob, struck by something in the older man’s tone.
“Ransome said there was some unrest amongst the natives,” Mr. Hampton replied, after a pause. “He seems to believe some of the German officials driven out of East Africa are at the bottom of it, although he said there was no evidence of any such thing. All the native reports, he said, laid the trouble-making at the door of a new medicine man who has appeared in the devastated areas and is known as ‘The Prophet.’ I couldn’t, of course, gain a very comprehensive survey of the situation during our rather brief conversation. But I did find out that this medicine man has gathered considerable of a following about him.”
“Won’t it be dangerous?” asked a voice from the doorway, and they turned to find Niellsen standing there. So engrossed had all inside the tent been that they had failed to note his approach.
He put down his motion picture camera and pulling a camp chair toward him sank into it with a sigh of weariness.
“I gathered enough to understand a trip to some place which might become hot for us is under discussion,” he said. “What about it?”
Mr. Hampton explained, adding: “Like you, I’m afraid it may be too dangerous to undertake. At least, that is,” he added hastily to forestall the remonstrances which all three boys looked prepared to make, “we can go part of the way. Certainly, into the volcanic region. But whether we push on amongst the disturbed tribes where this medicine man, The Prophet, is supposed to be operating will have to depend on circumstances.”