THE ROVER BOYS Boxed Set: 26 Illustrated Adventure Novels. Stratemeyer Edward

      Mortimer Blaze went ashore at once, after bidding all of the party a hearty good-by. "Hope we meet again," he said. "And, anyway, good luck to you!"

      "And good luck to you!" cried Tom. "Hope you bag all of the lions and tigers you wish," and so they parted, not to meet again for many a day.

      It was decided that the Rovers should not leave the ship until morning. It can well be imagined that none of the boys slept soundly that night. All wondered what was before them, and if they should succeed or fail in their hunt.

      "Dis aint much ob a town," remarked Aleck, as they landed, a little before noon, in a hot, gentle shower of rain. "Nuffin like New York."

      "There is only one New York, as there is but one London," answered Randolph Rover. "Our architecture would never do for such a hot climate."

      Along the river front was a long line of squatty warehouses, backed up by narrow and far from clean streets, where the places of business were huddled together, and where a good share of the trading was done on the sidewalk. The population was a very much mixed one, but of the Europeans the English and French predominated. The natives were short, fat, and exceedingly greasy appearing. Hardly a one of them could speak English.

      "I don't see any Americans," remarked Dick. "I suppose — "

      "There is an American store!" burst out Sam, pointing across the way. He had discovered a general trading store, the dilapidated sign of which read:

      SIMON HOOK,

      Dealer in Everything.

       English Spoken by an American.

       Horn of All Kinds Bought.

       Yankee Boots Are the Best!

      "He believes in advertising," laughed Dick. "I'd like to go in and see Simon Hook. Perhaps he'll remember something about father!" he added suddenly.

      "That's an idea!" returned Tom. "Let us go in, Uncle Randolph."

      Mr. Rover was willing, and they entered the low and dingy-looking establishment, which was filled with boxes, barrels, and bags of goods.

      They found the proprietor sitting in an easy chair, his feet on a desk, and a pipe in his mouth.

      "Is this Mr. Hook?" asked Randolph Rover.

      "That's me," was the answer; but Mr. Hook did not offer to rise, nor indeed to even shift his position.

      "We saw your sign and as we are Americans we thought we would drop in," went on Mr. Rover.

      "That's right; glad to see you," came from the man in the chair; but still he did not offer to shift his position.

      "Been here many years?" asked Dick.

      "About twenty."

      "How is business?" put in Tom, bound to say something.

      "Aint none, sonny."

      "You don't look very busy."

      "It's a fool's place to come to, sonny. When these goods are sold I'm going to quit." Mr. Simon Hook paused long enough to take an extra whiff from his pipe. "What brought you here?"

      "We are on a hunt for a missing man," answered Randolph Rover. "Did you ever meet him? His name is Anderson Rover, and he is my brother."

      "Anderson Rover?" Simon Hook thought for a moment. "I remember him. He was a gold hunter from Californy, or somethin' like that."

      "Yes; he was a mine owner."

      "Went up the Congo four or five years ago — maybe longer?"

      "Yes."

      "I remember him. He had lots of money, and took several guides and a number of other, natives along."

      "Have you seen or heard of him since?" questioned Dick eagerly.

      Simon Hook shook his head. "No, sonny. 'Twasn't to be expected."

      "And why not?" put in Tom.

      "Because them as goes up the Congo never, comes back. It's a fool's trip among those wild people of the interior. Stanley went up, but look at the big party he took with him and the many fights he had to get back alive."

      At this announcement the hearts of the Rover boys fell.

      "You never heard one word of him?" persisted Sam.

      "Nary a word, sonny. I reckon he's either lost in the jungle or among the mountains, or else the natives have taken care of him."

      "Did he say anything about the trail he was going to take?" asked Randolph Rover. "I understand there are several."

      "He was going to take the Rumbobo trail, most all of 'em do." Simon Hook drew a long breath. "Say, can I sell you any of these old things of mine cheap?"

      "Perhaps you can," said Randolph Rover.

      "We are bound for the hotel now. We will come in later."

      "Glad to see you," and as they left the shopkeeper waved them a pleasant adieu with his hand. But he never stirred from his chair.

      "I guess he has grown tired of trying to sell goods," observed Tom.

      "Perhaps he knows that if folks want the things he has to sell they are bound to come to him," said Dick. "His store seems to be the only one of its sort around."

      The hotel for which they were bound was several squares away, located in something of a park, with pretty flowers and a fountain. It was a two-story affair, with spacious verandas and large rooms, and frequented mostly by English and French people.

      They had just entered the office; and Randolph Rover was writing his name in the register, when Dick caught sight of somebody in the reading room that nearly took away his breath.

      "Well, I never!"

      "What is it, Dick?" asked Tom quickly.

      "Look at that boy reading a newspaper. It is Dan Baxter — Dan Baxter, just as sure as you are born!"

      CHAPTER XV

       CAPTAIN VILLAIRE'S LITTLE PLOT

       Table of Contents

      Dick was right: the boy in the reading-room' was indeed Dan Baxter, but so changed in appearance that for the minute neither Tom nor Sam recognized him.

      In the past Baxter had always been used to fine clothing, which he had taken care should be in good repair. Now his clothing was dilapidated and his shoes looked as if they were about ready to fall apart.

      More than this, his face was hollow and careworn, and one eye looked as if it had suffered severe blow of some sort. Altogether he was most wretched-looking specimen of humanity, and it was a wonder that he was allowed at the hotel. But the truth of the matter was that he had told the proprietor a long tale of sufferings in the interior and of a delayed remittance from home, and the hotel keeper was keeping him solely on this account.

      "How he is changed!" muttered Tom. "He looks like a regular tramp!"

      "He's been in hard luck, that's certain," came from Sam. "I wonder how he drifted out here?"

      While Sam was speaking Dan Baxter raised his eyes from the newspaper and glanced around. As his gaze fell upon the three Rover boys he started and the paper fell to the floor, then he got up and strode toward them.

      "Dick Rover!" he cried. "Where did you fellows come from?"

      "From Putnam Hall, Baxter," answered Dick quietly. "And what brought you here?"

      Ordinarily Dan Baxter would have retorted that that was none of Dick's business, but now he was in thoroughly low spirits, and he answered meekly:

      "I've been playing in hard luck. I went down to New York and one night when I was in a sailors' boarding house I drank more than was good for me, and when I