“Oh, you must take me too!” burst out Tom.  “I could never bear to be left behind.”

“And you must take me,” interrupted Sam.  “We always go together, you know.”

At this talk Randolph Rover was somewhat taken aback.  “All!” he cried.  “Why, what would three boys do in the heart of Africa?”

“Look for father!” cried Tom.  “I shan’t stay behind —­ you can’t make me!” he went on half defiantly.

“We have been through lots of adventures, uncle, you know that,” came from Sam.  “We are not afraid.”

“But the danger, boys —­” began the uncle.

“What danger wouldn’t we face for father’s sake!” said Tom.  “I’d go through fire and water for him.”

“You had better let us all go,” said Dick.

“If you don’t let Tom and Sam go, why, the chances are they’ll —­”

“Run away and go anyway,” finished Sam.

“Oh, Uncle Randolph, say we can go; please do!”

At this enthusiasm the uncle smiled sadly.

“All-right, boys; as you are bound to have it so, you shall all go.  But don’t blame me if the perils are greater than you anticipate, and if the undertaking costs one or more of you your lives.”

CHAPTER XII.

OFF FOR AFRICA

It was long after midnight before the conversation in relation to the proposed trip to Africa came to an end.  Mrs. Rover insisted that the boys should eat something, and they sat around the table discussing the viands and the two letters at the same time.

“Have you any idea where this Niwili Camp is?” asked Dick of his uncle.

“It is on the Congo, but how far froth the mouth of that stream is a question, lad.  Probably we can learn all about it when we reach Boma, the capital of the Congo Free State.”

“The Congo is a pretty big stream, isn’t it?” questioned Sam.

“Very large indeed.  At its mouth it is about ten miles wide, and it is from twelve to fourteen hundred miles long.  Stanley traced its course after an expedition in which he fought over thirty battles with the natives.”

“They must be fearfully savage.”

“Those in the interior are.  The natives that live close to the ocean are peaceable enough, so I have been told.”

“And how are we going to get there?” asked Tom.  “I don’t suppose there are any regular steamers running to the Congo.”

“No, indeed, Tom.  I have written to a shipping firm in New York for information, and they will probably send word by morning,” was the answer.

It can well be imagined that the boys slept but little that night.  In the morning they telegraphed to Putnam Hall for their trunks, and also let Captain Putnam and their chums know how matters stood.  Then began preparations for such a tour as none of them had ever before anticipated.

Word came from New York in the early afternoon mail, and the information sent was highly satisfactory to Randolph Rover.  The French steamer Republique was in port, loading for Boma and other African ports, and would set sail on the coming Saturday.  The firm had taken upon itself the responsibility to speak of passage for Mr. Rover and one or two others.