“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

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.