“What a contraption!” said Bob. “But, say! Speaking of turning cranks, that reminds me. Joe and I haven’t notified the Neuman Motion Picture Corporation that we’re going to Africa. And they told us to let them know when we left for a little-known land. If we’re going to take movies of Africa, we’ll have to telegraph them at once and maybe go to Philadelphia to see them.”
“I’ve already sent them word,” said Joe. “Forgot to tell you about it. As soon as our mothers said we could go, I went down and telegraphed. They said they’d send the cameras and film at once by express.”
“You did?” asked Bob in astonishment. “Good old Joe. Gotta hand it to you, all right.”
But despite what the Neuman Corporation had informed Joe, the motion-picture cameras and film had not arrived Thursday evening, as the youths and their fathers prepared to retire. On the morrow—Friday—they were to leave for Baltimore, whence they would embark on the steamer Zanzibar.
“Doggone it, anyhow!” exclaimed Bob Holton, who was fairly fuming at the mouth. “What will we do? We haven’t time to go to Philadelphia now.”
“Looks like you fellows aren’t going to take movies of Africa,” remarked Mr. Holton, who also felt the youths’ bitter disappointment.
“But—but they would be better than any we’ve ever taken,” mourned Joe. “No,” he went on, “we’ll have to arrange it some way. It might be best for you men to go on and let Bob and me take another ship. We——”
“I’m afraid you couldn’t do that, boys,” said Mr. Lewis, shaking his head. “We’ve already made reservations for you, and those could not easily be broken. A contract is a contract, you know.”
“The only thing for you to do,” came from Bob’s father, “is to telegraph Neuman the first thing in the morning to send the cameras and film on to Africa if they haven’t sent them yet. Of course, if they have, your mothers can forward them on to Africa by another ship.”