Bob and Joe smiled instinctively.
“Hunting is great sport,” said the latter. “But we never kill anything just for the pleasure of killing it. We have a good reason whenever we shoot an animal.”
“Ugh!” exclaimed Cecil with a shudder. “I never could bear the thought of a gun. Believe me, they certainly give me a creepy feeling. Once I went with Mamma to India. We intended to travel through a part of the country that was a little—dangerous, but when they told us we had better carry firearms I revolted right then and there. The very thought of such a horrible thing made the cold chills creep down my back.”
“But there isn’t anything bad about a rifle,” Joe told him. “That is, if you know how to use it. My friend and I may find our guns very useful when we get among such animals as gorillas.”
“Gorillas! A beastly word. But don’t inform me you are going to search for such terrible things!”
“Well, not exactly,” answered Bob. “But if any come our way we’ll probably bring a few down for specimens. And we’ll also be on the lookout for other dangerous game. Lions and leopards, for instance.”
“Gracious!” Cecil Stone’s mouth was wide open. “And you expect to return from that horrible country alive?”
“We hope to,” returned Joe with a smile. “And you—what do you intend to do in Africa?”
Cecil Purl removed a bright blue comb from its case. He fixed his hair very carefully before he again spoke.
“We wish to visit the cities,” he told them, “and mingle with the socially prominent people. It will be most enlightening, believe me. We hope to be invited very often to tea. Perhaps——”