“Hullo, that’s an idea!” mused Dick.

“Will yo’ do it, Massah Dick?”

“We’ll have to speak to my uncle about it first.”

“Well, yo’ put in a good word fo’ me.  Yo know I always stood by yo’ in de school,” pleaded the colored man.  “I don’t want to be driftin’ around jess nowhar, wid nuffin to do, an’ no money comin’ in —­ not but what I’ll work cheap, as I dun said I would,” he added hastily.

A little later Randolph Rover joined the group and Aleck’s proposition was laid before him.  Strange to say he accepted the colored man’s offer immediately, greatly to the wonder of the boys, and from that minute on Pop be came a member of the searching party.

“I will tell you why I did it,” explained Randolph Rover to the boys in private.  “When we get into the jungle we will need a man we can trust and one who is used to American ways.  Moreover, if there is any spying to be done among the natives the chances are that a black man can do it better than a white man.”

“Uncle Randolph, you’ve got a long head,” remarked Tom.  “No doubt Aleck will prove just the fellow desired.”  And Tom was right, as later events proved.

CHAPTER XIV

A STRANGE MEETING IN BOMA

The storm delayed the passage of the Republique nearly a week, in a manner that was totally unexpected by the captain.  The fierce waves, running mountain high, wrenched the screw and it was found next to impossible to repair the accident.  Consequently the steamer had to proceed under a decreased rate of speed.

This was tantalizing to the boys, and also to Randolph Rover, for everyone wished to get ashore, to start up the Congo as early as possible.  But all the chafing in the world could not help matters, and they were forced to take things as they came.

A place was found among the sailors for Aleck, and soon he began to feel like himself once more.  But the sea did not suit the colored man, and he was as anxious as his masters to reach shore once more.

“It’s a pity da can’t build a mighty bridge over de ocean, an’ run kyars,” he said.  “Den nobody would git seasick.”

“Perhaps they’ll have a bridge some day resting on boats, Aleck,” answered Tom.

“But I don’t expect to live to see it.”

“Yo’ don’t know about dat, chile.  Look at uddert’ings.  Did yo’gran’fadder expect to ride at de rate ob sixty miles an hour?  Did he expect to send a telegram to San Francisco in a couple ob minutes?  Did he eber dream ob talkin’ to sumboddy in Chicago froo a telephone?  Did he knew anyt’ing about electric lights, or movin’ pictures, or carriages wot aint got no bosses, but run wid gasoline or sumfing like dat?  I tell yo, Massah Tom, we don’t know wot we is comin’ to!”

“You are quite right, Alexander,” said Mr. Rover, who had overheard the talk.  “Science is making wonderful strides.  Some day I expect to grow com and wheat, yes, potatoes and other vegetables, by electricity,” and then Randolph Rover branched off into a long discourse on scientific farming that almost took away poor Aleck’s breath.