CHAPTER XXII.

THE EXECUTION AND WHAT FOLLOWED.

Our friends were up and on hand before sunrise the next morning.

A vast crowd had already assembled about the spot where the execution of Doc Clancy was to take place.

Van and his companions took up a position in the rear of the crowd.

Though none of them were desirous of seeing the execution, they could not resist the temptation to be present.

It was now generally known throughout the city that Van was the son of the president of the board of officers, and many were the looks that were cast upon the boy by the city's inhabitants.

Just as the sun arose, Doc Clancy was led to the rudely constructed gallows that had been erected solely for his execution.

Before he stepped upon the drop, Van's father came forward and faced him.

When the villain saw the man he had abandoned in the African wilds to die, a look of terror came over his face.

"Wha-a-t!" he gasped. "Are you alive?"

"I guess I am, John Moreland. So you were not satisfied when you thought you had left me to die; you made up your mind to find your way back home, after a number of years of your villainy, and murder my brother! But a Nemesis got upon your track, John Moreland! My son, Van, had pluck enough to chase you clear to this spot, which is entirely unknown to the outside world. Now, you vile hound! you have but a few minutes to live! Have you got anything to say?"

During the recital of the president's words the face of Doc Clancy turned the color of ashes, and when he had finished, the wretch uttered a horror-stricken groan and fell to the ground in a faint.

Van's father then spoke a few words to the executioner, and then walked to the spot where our friends were standing.

"Come," said he. "When I let my handkerchief fall the drop will go down. I have no desire to see the execution."

Together the party walked slowly from the place.

A few yards from the crowd the handkerchief was dropped.

The next instant a dull thud was heard, followed by a howl from the excited crowd.

Van glanced back for an instant, and saw the form of Doc Clancy dangling in the air.

The career of the villain who had been chased to the heart of the Dark Continent was ended.

A sigh of relief escaped the lips of our hero.

"Now, if it is possible for us to get back home again, and take father along with us, I will consider my journey to Central Africa the most important event of my whole life," he thought.

As his father was compelled to use a crutch on account of his missing leg, the walk to their headquarters was a slow one.

On the way Van met Metha Arundel, who invited him to call again that evening.

He promised to do so, and a joyous look came into the beautiful girl's eyes.

As soon as the house of the president was reached our hero's father called him in his private office.

"My son," said he, "there is going to be trouble in this hitherto peaceful city before many hours."

"What do you mean, father?" asked Van in surprise.

"I mean just this: the man you struck yesterday for interfering with that girl--who, by the way, has fallen in love with you--has a vast influence among the people of this place. It was for that reason that the council did not indict him last night. I understand by good authority that he has sworn to kill you and all your friends. Now, I want to ask you what you think is the best thing to do."

"As soon as we see it is getting too hot for us we had better leave," was Van's reply.

"That's it exactly. Since you came here I have had a very strong desire to get back to our own country once more. I have long known a way to go, but could not go alone. You and your friends will just make the party large enough, and I think we had better start this very day."

"Let us wait till to-morrow, father. I have an appointment to-night, you know."

"Do you care anything for the pretty Metha Arundel, Van?"

"Why?"

"Well, if you don't I wouldn't get up any foolish flirtation with her, if I were you. Her father told me this morning that she had resolved to have no other man for a husband but you, and when a girl once says a thing like that in this country you may rest assured that she means it."

"I think I will ask her to go along with us," said Van, after a moment's thought.

Contrary to his expectations, his father seemed pleased.

"I know her father would go," said he, quickly. "Her mother is dead, and they two comprise the entire family."

"Very well," returned our hero. "You might as well speak to her father."

The elder Vincent now produced a roughly drawn chart of the African Utopia.

He showed Van a river which flowed near the eastern wall of the city and thence in a southerly direction until it emptied into Lake Tanganyika.

"This map was drawn by a man who came to this place by that route," said he. "If we once reach that lake we will be all right."

"We ought to have a large flat-bottomed boat," replied our hero, in a thoughtful manner. "We could then take our horses with us."

"We have the boat already," Mr. Vincent hastened to reply. "It is a large one, and is used to transport blocks of stone from the quarry about ten miles above the city."

"That settles it, then," said our hero, in a matter-of-fact way.

The interview now being at an end, Van sought his companions and told them of the plan for leaving the place and the African wilds forever.

All seemed much elated over it save Joe. The boy only shook his head in a wistful manner and said:

"I am glad you are going to leave and hope you will have the best of luck, and finally reach your own country. As for me, I am satisfied that I will never leave Africa."

"What, Joe? Aren't you going with us?" asked Jack Howard, in surprise.

"Oh, yes--that is, I will make the start with you. To tell the truth, I feel as--as though I am not going to live long."

"Nonsense!" cried all hands in a breath.

"I have a presentiment that way, and I know it will come true," persisted the boy.

Joe's words were spoken in such an earnest manner that a grave feeling came over all hands in spite of themselves.

During the day they walked about the city a good deal, and toward evening Joe was as happy as any of them.

Van noticed that a large number of the population had congregated to the western portion of the walled-in place.

Presently he saw the man whom he had knocked down among them, and he began to grow suspicious.

"They are getting ready to start a riot," he thought. "I must see my father and get him to start the first thing in the morning."

Our friends were on their way back to the house of the president when Van caught a glimpse of this man.

The villain--for such he was--cast a look of intense hate at the boy, and then, before his intention could be designed, he sprang forward and flung his knife full at our hero's breast.

Van made a nimble dodge and escaped the blade, but a cry of anguish behind him told him that it had struck some one else.

Turning quickly, he beheld Joe reeling backward with the knife sticking in his breast.

Jack Howard caught the wounded boy in his arms, and then, quick as a flash, Van turned and leveled his rifle at the cowardly murderer.

Crack! As the report rang out, the man threw up his arms and fell dead to the ground.