“Or to use the common African term,” laughed Mr. Holton, “we’ll ‘push off into the blue,’ which means start into the unknown.”
The automobile that the naturalists had engaged was a well-known American make and had seen many miles of service but was still in good condition.
It was still early when the four placed their paraphernalia in the automobile and climbed in themselves. Mr. Holton took the wheel, sending the car ahead at a good pace.
The road was little more than a clearing cut out of the dense jungle, and in the rainy season would have been impassable. Now, however, it was in good condition.
“We’re out of the protectorate now, aren’t we?” inquired Bob, fingering his rifle.
“Yes. But to tell the truth,” began Mr. Holton, reading his son’s thoughts, “I’d rather you wouldn’t shoot anything along here. We’ll have plenty of that to do later.”
As a result of this, the chums refrained from using their rifles, although they saw numerous wild creatures that could have been brought down easily.
Just before nightfall, the little party of explorers chugged into Mbarara, which was a mere village at the edge of the primeval forest.
Here the explorers were welcomed by a huge Negro, to whom the automobile belonged. He was well acquainted with Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis, having met them on their previous visit to this town.
“Boys,” said Mr. Lewis, addressing the chums, “I want you to meet Migo, an old friend of ours,” indicating the native. “Migo, this is Bob Holton and this, Joe Lewis.”