“Perhaps,” Mr. Tagore suggested, “the jewelry was not burned but was stolen.”
Nancy had not thought of this possibility and agreed that it could be true.
Mr. Tagore had evidently finished his lunch because he said good-by and went into the hotel.
Nancy and her friends found two tables under a flame tree overlooking the large grassy area, which was surrounded by other small, tree-shaded tables, To one side were spits on which turkeys, squabs, and pigs were roasting. In front of these stood long tables loaded with a variety of food, including tropical fruits. Smiling chefs were in attendance to help serve the buffet.
Bess was ecstatic and started to heap her plate. One dark glance from George and she put back a luscious-looking pork chop.
Halfway through the meal, Ned said, “Here come the dancers.”
Members of the Choku tribe, all men, appeared from a rear garden. Their gay costumes included short, fringed skirts, large shaggy headdresses, and anklets. They carried bongo drums between their knees and moved in a circle as they played and danced. Each motion was part of a story. At times the men swung the drums under one arm. Every so often they would squat.
“The rhythm is great,” said Dave. “And the dance is not very different from some of ours. Now at our next fraternity dance maybe I’ll get a costume, a bongo drum, and—”
“Dave Evans,” said Bess, “if you dare show up in a brief costume like these men are wearing, I—I won’t let on I know you!”
An hour later the group left the patio. The plan was to take a hike and later go swimming. Nancy, Bess, and George decided to change their clothes and went to the desk for their room key.
The clerk handed each girl a gift-wrapped package. Smiling, he said, “These are with Mr. Tagore’s compliments.”
CHAPTER XIV
Into Lion Country
Puzzled and amazed by the gifts from Mr. Tagore, Nancy, Bess, and George hurried to their room and tore off the wrappings. In each box lay a necklace of African semiprecious stones.
“They’re beautiful!” Bess exclaimed. “I guess Mr. Tagore’s pretty nice after all.”
George, who rarely wore jewelry, clasped her necklace around her neck and looked in the mirror. “Hm! This will go well with sports clothes.”
Nancy was very pleased with her necklace. It was a little more elaborate than that of the other girls and had bold beads between African jade stones. She had seen it in the window of one of the club’s shops.
Suddenly George turned around and said, “As long as we suspect Mr. Tagore of being implicated in the spider sapphire disappearance, I think we should return these gifts.”
“Oh no!” Bess cried. “I don’t believe he’s a crook. He has a real nice face. I don’t care what you do, but I’m going to keep my necklace.”
Nancy smiled. “Whatever we do, let’s not be hasty. Even if Mr. Tagore sent this gift to throw us off the scent, we ought to have a little more proof that he’s not an honest man.”
“How do you hope to do that?” George asked.
“By making a few discreet inquiries among the hotel personnel,” Nancy answered. “I’ll begin at the desk.”
Bess pleaded that she not start her investigation now. The girls had promised to meet their friends at the pool. “Once you get to sleuthing, no telling how long it will take. Ned will be furious.”
Nancy laughed and agreed to wait until after the swim period was over.
It was close to six o‘clock before the girls returned to their rooms. Nancy dressed at once, this time in an intriguing print of African animals donated by a girl named Beth Jones. The young detective walked out to the desk and began talking to the desk clerk about the hotel’s evening entertainment. Gradually she turned the conversation to Mr. Tagore.
The clerk said, “He’s a very fine gentleman. Been coming to the club for six years. He’s a great lover of birds and enjoys our collection very much.”
“And he’s very fond of jewelry too, I assume,” Nancy said. “He wore a beautiful diamond ring and gave us three girls necklaces.”
“That’s just like him,” the clerk said. “Always doing thoughtful things for other people.”
At that moment an arriving guest took the clerk’s attention and Nancy went to her room. She reported the clerk’s high opinion of Mr. Tagore.
“That settles it,” said Bess. “If we try to return these necklaces now, we’d only hurt his feelings. I think all we should do is thank him.”
The other two agreed. But when they looked for Mr. Tagore in the dining room, he was not in sight. Finally the girls wandered back to the desk and asked the clerk where he thought they might locate him.
“Mr. Tagore has checked out,” the man said. “He left here about two hours ago.”
“For Mombasa?” Nancy asked.
“Yes.”
The girls turned away and Bess said, “I guess we’ll have to call on Mr. Tagore in Mombasa to thank him.”
Two mornings later the Emerson group left the Safari Club. There was not a single clue to the person who had burned the suitcases and clothes of Nancy and her roommates. After checking in at their Nairobi hotel, the three girls went shopping. First they bought suitcases, then went from shop to shop filling them.
Everything proved to be easy to find except shoes. They bought some for rough walking but saw nothing for dressy wear except styles with extremely high, narrow heels. They did not want these.
“I guess we’ll have to keep wearing the borrowed ones,” George said finally. “I’m tired of shopping. Let’s go home!”
They took a taxi back to the hotel. At once they changed to some newly purchased attire, and called the laundry service for a quick cleaning job before returning the borrowed apparel.
At that moment Gwen wandered into the room. When she heard the plan, she refused to take back anything she had given and said the other girls in the group felt the same way.
Nancy laughed. “You’re all wonderful. Anyway, if you want to borrow any of your own clothes, let us know!”
Nancy telephoned Ned and asked if he would accompany her to the agency for which Tizam had worked.
“Meet you in five minutes,” Ned replied.
The agency was within walking distance of the hotel. When Nancy and Ned entered the office, the staff was busy with clients who were planning safaris. Nancy noticed that one of the men was free, so she and Ned approached him.
“Won’t you both sit down?” he said. “I’m Mr. Foster.”
As they seated themselves, Nancy said, “We’d like to get some information about a guide you used to have named Tizam.”
Mr. Foster heaved a sigh. “I wish I could give you some definite information but really I have none.”
Nancy looked disappointed. Mr. Foster went on, “Since you are asking about Tizam, I suppose you know he was lost on a safari. Rumor has it that he was mauled by a lioness.”
Nancy told him of the other theory that Tizam might still be alive. “I understand another man saw him being attacked, but killed the lioness before she had mauled Tizam to death.”
Mr. Foster nodded. “Yes, there was that story, but we at this office thought it was probably exaggerated.”
Ned asked Mr. Foster what kind of man Tizam was. There was an immediate enthusiastic answer. “A very fine guide and a most trustworthy man. Everyone spoke highly of him.”
After a pause, Nancy asked, “He wouldn’t be the kind of person to steal any jewels?”
“Oh no,” Mr. Foster answered. “He was a very upright young man. His loss to us has been great. We have never found anyone to replace him.”
Nancy told Mr. Foster about having met Madame Lilia Bulawaya and of Nancy’s promise to try locating her brother Tizam. “Have you any suggestions as to how I might go about this?”
Mr. Foster looked into space for several seconds. Then he said, “I could arrange a safari for you.”
“Would it be very expensive and how long would it take?” Nancy q
ueried.
Mr. Foster smiled. “Since your errand has to do with Tizam I would give you a special rate. You could go by Land Rover to the spot where he was attacked and be back in one day. I could supply a driver.”
“Ned, do you think we should do it?” Nancy asked. “I’m sure the Stanleys would agree if all our crowd could go.”
Reluctantly Ned reminded her that they were to fly the next morning to Mombasa. To change the schedule would upset sightseeing plans for everyone.
Nancy sighed, but already a plan was formulating in her mind. She would ask Professor and Mrs. Stanley if her group of six might stay over one day in order to make the trip.
She mentioned this aloud to Mr. Foster. “If I obtain their permission, could you get the Land Rover for tomorrow?”
“Yes, and I could arrange for Butubu to go with you, if you like.”
“That would be perfect.” Nancy was thrilled. “Ned, let’s hurry back to the hotel and find the Stanleys.”
First Nancy and Ned approached Burt and Dave and then Bess and George to see if they wanted to make the somewhat dangerous trip.
“I’ll go,” Bess said, “but I certainly hope we don’t meet any lions.”
Professor and Mrs. Stanley did not give permission at once, but a little later decided that Nancy and her friends could be relied upon to take care of themselves. With promises of acting with extreme caution, the young people thanked their chaperons.
Early the next morning a large black-and-white-striped Land Rover came to the hotel. The driver introduced himself as Butubu. He had a good-natured smile and was very pleasant. In addition to this, Nancy knew from what she had heard about him that he was fearless and brave in the jungle.
The Land Rover zipped along at a good pace, and though the road was rough, its passengers made no complaints. After a while Butubu announced that he was going to stop at the hippo pool.
“There are two good things to take pictures of,” he said. “Have your cameras ready.”
He stopped the bus and walked forward to where two blacks stood in uniform. The men spoke to one another in Swahili.
The Americans noticed the unusual ear lobes of one of the men. There was a large hole in the center of each one and the flesh hung down in a long loop. Attached were earrings that almost touched the man’s shoulder. Bess snapped their picture. The two guides led the way through woodland to a large pool at the foot of a grassy, stubbly hillside.
“Watch carefully and you may see a hippo come out of the water,” Butubu said. “By the way, these guides belong to the Masai tribe. Formerly it was a custom to treat the ears this way, probably as a tribal identification.”
“I don’t see any hippos,” Bess complained.
She was holding her camera ready to shoot at an instant’s notice. Bess turned to Butubu.
“Would you mind standing alongside these guides and I’ll snap all three of you?”
The men lined up. Bess looked into the finder and decided she should stand a little farther back. Inadvertently she stepped too far back and the next moment lost her balance. She began rolling down the hillside!
In an instant Dave went after her. It was evident from his long strides that he would soon overtake Bess.
But the camera had flown out of Bess’s hands. Now it was bouncing downhill. Nancy rushed after it, but the chase seemed hopeless. In another few seconds the camera would drop into the water!
With a final sprint Nancy reached the camera just in time. At the same instant she saw a huge hippo rising out of the water almost directly in front of her. Quickly adjusting the camera she snapped a picture. Then she climbed the hillside.
As Nancy handed the camera to Bess, she said, “I hope this wasn’t broken and I got a good shot for you.”
Bess examined the camera and it seemed to be all right. “Thanks a million,” she said. “I never would have made that good shot myself.”
The young people and their guides walked back to the bus and climbed in. No more stops were made. Soon Butubu turned into an area which had no visible road, merely very tall grass and here and there some trees.
Wary of lions, Butubu ordered the group to stay in the Land Rover. Slowly he wound his way along, then finally drew to a halt.
He pointed ahead to the shelter of some trees. “Over there is where I saw Tizam and the lioness,” he said.
At that moment six blacks rose up from the tall grass. They held spears ready to throw and advanced toward the Land Rover.
CHAPTER XV
Native’s Help
IN an instant the whole Emerson group dropped to the floor of the bus. Would the native warriors try to break in upon them?
“This is terrible!” came Bess’s muffled wail.
The Americans could hear Butubu calling out in Swahili to the oncoming men. There was a long conversation, which did not sound hostile to Nancy. In fact, she heard a couple of the spearmen laugh.
Cautiously she raised her head and looked out the window. The tribesmen stood with their spears pointed toward the ground and did not appear at all menacing now. Finally Nancy stood up and spoke to Butubu.
“Everything is all right,” he said. “No danger.”
Somewhat sheepishly the young people got up from the floor and took their seats. Butubu explained that these men were stalking a roving lioness. She was reported to have killed a child in one of the villages.
“How horrible!” Bess exclaimed.
Butubu nodded. “These men were amused that you thought they meant to harm you.”
“It wasn’t so funny,” Bess complained.
Nancy asked the guide to find out if the natives knew or had heard of Tizam. He questioned the men, then translated the answer.
“A year ago a man dragged himself into their tribe’s village. He had been mauled by a lioness but had survived the attack.”
“Did they find out who he was?” George asked.
Butubu shook his head. “The man had lost his memory. He had developed fever and it took a long time for the medicine man to make him well. After a while his body was all right, but he could not remember who he was or where he came from.”
“Is he still at their village?” Nancy queried.
Butubu questioned the natives, but the answer was No. The stranger had disappeared one night and they had no idea where he had gone.
Nancy and her friends were dismayed and alarmed to hear this. If the man was Tizam, there was no telling where he might have wandered. He might even have lost his life. In any case, it would account for his never having communicated with his sister or Mr. Foster’s agency.
George said in disappointment, “Just when we were getting within reach of solving the mystery, it slips right through our fingers!”
Nancy continued to ask questions, hoping to elicit some clue to Tizam’s whereabouts. She learned that several times, in somewhat lucid moments, Tizam had said in Swahili, “I must get to Mombasa and report those thieves to the police.”
“What do you think he meant?” Dave queried. “Something to do with the spider sapphire?”
Nancy requested Butubu to ask the tribesmen if Tizam had carried any gems with him.
“No, he had nothing in his pockets and no identification.”
Burt spoke up. “I doubt that we can learn any more. Don’t you think we should start back for Nairobi?”
Butubu nodded, but when he told this to the spearmen, they objected. The guide translated that the men insisted the visitors come to their village for a meal and a ceremonial dance.
“I am afraid you cannot deny them this pleasure,” Butubu said.
The natives started their trek to the village and the bus followed slowly. No one saw any lions, but Butubu pointed out graceful elands and kudus. They resembled American deer but their horns were quite different. Those of the elands were long and straight and pointed slightly backwards. The kudus’ rose straight up from the forehead and curved in such a way that from a distance they resembled snakes.
&n
bsp; Suddenly Butubu stopped the bus. “Look!” he said, pointing toward a tree-shaded area. “There’s a family of hyrax. In Africa we call them dassies.‘”
“Aren’t they cute?” Bess exclaimed. “Are they some kind of rabbit?”
“No,” Butubu replied. “If you will look closely, you will see that they have no tails. People used to think they belonged to the rat family. But scientists made a study of their bodies and say their nearest relatives are the elephants.”
“Hard to believe,” said Burt. “Think of a rabbit-sized elephant!”
The small, dark-brown animals were sunning themselves on an outcropping of rocks. Three babies were hopping about their mother. Butubu explained that they were among the most interesting African animals.
“The babies start walking around within a few minutes of their birth and after the first day they’re on their own. They return to the mother only long enough to be fed, but they start eating greens very quickly.”
Butubu drove on but continued to talk about the dassies. “There is an amusing folk tale about these little animals. It was said that in the days when the earth was first formed and animals were being put on it, the weather was cold and rainy. ”When all the animals were called to a certain spot to be given tails, the dassie did not want to go. As other kinds passed him, he begged them to bring him back a tail.“
Nancy laughed. “But none of them did.”
“That is right,” Butubu answered. “And so to this day they have no tails that they can use to switch flies.”
Everyone in the bus thanked him for relating the charming little legend, then looked out the windows. They were approaching a village of grass-roofed huts. The small homes were built in a semicircle.
The spearmen called out to some of the villagers and men of all ages and women and children came running from the huts. When the visitors were announced, some of the natives hastened back inside.
“They are putting on their ceremonial dress,” Butubu said.
The visitors got out of the bus and were asked to sit on the ground. The meal would soon be served to them. It was not long in arriving and consisted of wildebeest stew and mealies, a sort of coarse cornmeal mush.