The faces of the three boys grew bright again. “Oh, of course,” agreed Jack, quickly.
“But what I can’t understand,” added Bob, harking back to the question he had earlier propounded to Frank, “is why this chap Ransome is going in. Does he have plenty of money and time to go running around like this? And why did he call us and ask us to go along? Why has he been waiting at Entebbe for a week, trying to get us, instead of setting out?”
Mr. Hampton knew more than he was prepared to state. Had the boys but known, which they did not, they would have suspected as much from the fact that at Kisumu he had been in closest conversation for more than an hour with Ransome, the ostensible invalid trader, in a locked room at the Club. But of that conference they were unaware. This much, however, he did state:
“I believe him to be a secret agent of the British government, fellows. And, although the Mountains of the Moon lie in Belgian territory, yet Great Britain is vitally interested in anything which may tend to upset conditions amongst the natives. As to his reasons for wishing us to accompany him, it is possible that Mr. Ransome wants us to act as a cloak for him.”
“I see,” said Frank. “You mean that if we go in to take motion picture records of events, he can go along as a member of the expedition without arousing suspicion as to his real status?”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Hampton, nodding his head in approval.
“Time to go to the celebration of Chief Ungaba,” spoke a voice at the tent flap as Mr. Hampton concluded.
All turned about hastily. As in the case of Niellsen’s approach, they had been unaware of anyone present.
It was Mabele, the interpreter who had been employed at Kisumu. He stood in a respectful attitude, holding up the tent flap, but not venturing to enter the tent.
“All right, Mabele,” said Mr. Hampton, shortly. “We’ll come at once.”