Captured by the Arabs. Foster James H.

object of their remarks was indeed not anything to be especially proud of. A well-known American make, it had undoubtedly been of great service in its time, and was still capable of covering many more miles. It had no top, and nothing to show that one had been present, but the seats were in fair condition, and a well-shined windshield promised to keep away the formidable dust of the desert.

      “Well, I suppose we could do much worse,” sighed Joe, taking his place in the back seat.

      After a few more remarks with the keeper of the garage, the adventurers started the motor and pulled out into the street, Mr. Lewis at the wheel. The chug of the engine was almost deafening, but, as Bob remarked, they would probably get used to it.

      “Ought to be some new springs,” said Joe, with a wink at his chum.

      “And there could be new upholstering,” added Bob. “Of course it needs new – ”

      “All right, boys,” smiled Mr. Holton, cutting off their capricious suggestions. “If you don’t like it, you know what you can do.”

      “I guess we’d better shut up,” grinned Bob. “We may get thrown out on our ear.”

      Mr. Lewis had studied the map of Algiers and had no difficulty in finding his way out of the city and to Maison Carrée, which might almost be called a suburb of the metropolis. From here they went almost straight south and soon came to a narrow river, which was spanned by a small bridge.

      “Scarcely any curves from here on,” said Mr. Lewis, as he increased the speed of the car.

      The road remained good, and in a short time they reached Arba, their destination. Here for the first time they caught a glimpse of a camel caravan, for they are never seen as far as Algiers. It was composed of about ten dromedaries, with only three riders. Strapped on the brutes’ backs were packs containing probably dates and other products of the desert.

      Bob and Joe took in the scene with intense interest, for soon they would be fitted out in a like manner for the long desert journey. The youths were particularly anxious to observe the manner in which the brutes are ridden. They had heard that to straddle a camel and be able to bounce freely along was an art that came only of long practice. Whether this was true they did not know but resolved to find out sooner or later from Fekmah.

      “I’ll bet it’s harder than it looks, though,” remarked Joe.

      A little later they saw other caravans of donkeys, the usual beast of burden used near the coast.

      “The Arab, unlike other natives, never carries his load,” explained Mr. Holton. “I guess he thinks it lowers himself too much.”

      They drove on into the town and had more trouble finding good streets than in Algiers.

      Luckily it was Wednesday, and the market was in full swing. Traders were swarming everywhere, buying and selling the queer native goods and foodstuffs.

      “Suppose we park the car where we can and look about a bit,” suggested Joe. “It’s no special hurry to begin the hunt, is it?”

      The others were more than willing, and as soon as possible the automobile – if it could be called that – was stopped at a convenient corner.

      “Sure feels good to get out and stretch,” smiled Bob, taking advantage of the opportunity to relax his cramped legs.

      They left the car and made for the business center of the town, intent upon spending a half-hour or so in watching the busy scene of interest.

      It was soon discovered that except for the large market there was little of interest to be seen. In many respects the town resembled Algiers, although on a much smaller scale and not nearly as modern. The streets were narrow and, in many cases, curving, and the houses were far from attractive. But the hustle and bustle of the natives clearly indicated that Arba was of considerable importance commercially.

      This was especially noted in the city market, where every article imaginable was for sale. Bakers, vegetable dealers, butchers, shoemakers, wine venders, and many others did their best to convince the buyer of the worth of their products.

      “And over there in that tent is a physician,” pointed out Mr. Lewis. “How good he would be considered in the United States is hard to say, but the Arabs seem to have confidence in him. Look at the patients going in.”

      “For my part, I’d rather trust nature to cure my illness,” smiled Bob, as he noted the rather blank expression of the native physician.

      The explorers spent nearly a half-hour in the city, taking in the various sights so strange and interesting to a visitor from a far-away land. At last Mr. Holton moved that they go back to the car and get their rifles and begin the hunt, and the others were in favor of doing so.

      Their lunch, cartridges, binoculars, and other hunting necessities were packed in lightweight ruck sacks, which required but a minute to strap on their backs.

      The car was to be left where it was, as probably no better parking place could be found.

      “Guess we’re ready,” said Mr. Lewis, picking up his rifle.

      It required but a short walk to reach the edge of the town, and one glance revealed that the country here was wild and uncultivated. Mountains were but a short distance away, and some of the peaks were rather impressive.

      “Those forests look like there might be anything in them,” observed Joe, directing his glance at the towering wooded slopes.

      “We’ll see in a short time,” said his father, fumbling his rifle.

      The foothills over which they were passing were, for the most part, bare and devoid of heavy vegetation. But a little later they came to a region that gradually sloped upward, and less than an hour’s traveling brought them to the base of a high, sloping mountain, which was covered with a dense forest.

      With renewed efforts they began the task of climbing, keeping a sharp lookout for any wild animals that might dart out in front of them.

      “About all the wild animals to be found here are rabbits, jackals, hyenas, panthers, and a very few lions,” said Mr. Holton, as they trudged up the hill.

      Luckily there were no sharp cliffs to be scaled. Instead, the way was gradual, unbroken.

      “I’d like to get a glimpse of one of those queer creatures that have been reported to exist in these woods,” remarked Mr. Holton with a smile.

      “What’s that?” asked Joe.

      “Another Arabian myth, most likely. At any rate I know of nobody who has ever been fortunate enough to see one. It is supposed to be about the size of a badger and is a very peculiar combination of six or more well-known animals. The face, eyes, tail, abdomen, and other body regions are supposed to be taken from other creatures; and all the details are very accurate and convincing, to hear the Arab tell it. Again arises the question of where such queer conceptions get into his head.”

      As they hiked on, Bob and Joe began to get behind their elders. There was much to be seen in the way of odd plants and colorful flowers, and their attention was continually diverted from one thing to another.

      “I suppose when we get as seasoned in the art of exploring as our dads we’ll not notice such minorities,” said Bob. “But right now – ”

      He stopped suddenly as he caught sight of something that made his blood turn cold.

      Not five feet away was a huge wild boar, showing its terrible tusks savagely as it prepared to rush at the youths.

      CHAPTER VII

      Good News

      “WHAT is it?” cried Joe, as he noticed the look of anxiety on his chum’s face.

      For answer, Bob pointed to the wild boar, and as Joe glanced around he shrank back in consternation.

      “Quick!” he cried. “It’s going to charge!”

      There was no time to lose. The animal, angered because cornered, was getting ready to stand its ground savagely. And the boys had heard of the