“What’ll we do?”
“Nothing that I know of, only keep on going. It seems to me that they were traveling this way, but I’m not sure.”
Blinded by the torrents of rain, bruised and cut by the countless pointed thorns and brambles, the young explorers moved along painfully, hoping against hope that they would meet up with their elders or some of the blacks.
But luck was not with them that day. With every step they were unknowingly moving farther into the depths of the unknown forest, instead of following a set course.
“Looks like we’re not going to find them,” said Joe, panting for breath. “But we won’t stop now.”
All the remainder of the afternoon the hurricane continued as violently as before. Then very slowly it began to subside, although the rain continued to fall. But at least the terrible gale was no longer blowing, and this was what had bothered the chums most.
“But where are we?” asked Joe, looking about as the darkness gave way to dim light.
The region they were in was one of the wildest they had yet seen. Gnarled, twisted trees grew in profusion; deep gulches broke the ground in a number of places; strange, odd plants, including huge ferns, were everywhere. Once they caught sight of an unusually queer animal slinking through the underbrush.
“Maybe we’re miles and miles from the safari,” said Bob in a voice of hopelessness.