In the Depths of the Dark Continent: or, The Vengeance of Van Vincent

CHAPTER XIX.
DOC CLANCY'S CONFESSION

When Van saw that it was Doc Clancy who had been thrown in to the lion, he could scarcely believe his senses.

Like his companions, he was spellbound for a moment.

As the wretched man cowered close to the side of the pit, the lion halted in front of him, as if to gloat over his victim's misery and terror.

"By Jove!" exclaimed our hero. "Doc Clancy shall not die that way. When he leaves this world, he shall die with a rope about his neck."

Quick as a flash he leveled his rifle at the lion and pulled the trigger.

Crack! As the report rang out on the still, morning air, the king of beasts rolled over upon the ground in the throes of death.

The bullet from Vincent's rifle struck the creature just behind the left fore-shoulder, entering the heart.

It all happened so quickly that none of the inhabitants of the wonderful city could make a move to stop the boy from killing the lion; and as soon as they saw what he had done, a hoarse cry of anger went up from their lips.

"You've played ther part of a fool, Van!" exclaimed Lank Edwards, with a look of disgust. "By saving the life of the murderer of your uncle, you have placed yer own in great danger."

"You are right," put in Poppet, who heard the words. "Young fellow, though you are my guest, I cannot be answerable for your safety."

"It matters not," returned Van. "That man murdered my uncle, and I have chased him too far to see him die before I have a written confession from him. And then, again, when he dies I want to see him do so with a rope around his neck."

It was wonderful to note the change that came over the face of Poppet when he heard the boy's words.

Turning to the excited crowd about the pit, he addressed them in the language of the city, telling them exactly what our hero had said.

This seemed to satisfy them, and the next moment the entire crowd were gazing at the plucky American boy with admiring eyes.

"Well," observed Poppet, at length, turning to our friends, "I am the master of all executions that take place, and overseer of prisoners as well. For the present I will have this man locked up, and to-night the city officers will decide upon what is to be done with him. It may be that they will approve of what you say; and if so, the confession you desire will be forced from him, after which he will be executed after the fashion of your country."

"What did he do that caused him to be thrown to the lion?" asked Joe, turning his large, dark eyes upon Poppet.

"He insulted the daughter of one of the best men in Utopia last night, and when a man does that here the penalty is that he shall be thrown into the lion's pit," was the reply.

Our friends were now conducted back to the house of their host, and here it was that they learned two things which had hitherto seemed rather queer to them.

The first was how it was that Doc Clancy had discovered the horses rigged up in such a curious fashion; and this was explained by Poppet as being a ruse practiced by his people to frighten their enemies who dwelt outside the wall. In this case the man who led the mounted dummies had been killed in some manner, and thus it was that Clancy and his associate had discovered the horses, who had returned to the gate in the huge wall.

The other thing which became plain to them was that of the iron gate opening and shutting without apparent cause, and we will explain it in Poppet's own words.

"Whenever the gate is opened it must be done by a person in the center of our little city," said he. "There are wires laid underground to the gate, and when admission is sought the person in charge of them becomes aware of it immediately, as a bell will ring twice in quick succession. A knob is touched and open comes the gate, and when the person or persons are through it shuts."

"It must be done by electricity," remarked our hero, in great surprise.

"That is exactly what it is done by," was the reply. "All the power used in the city is furnished by it."

Our friends were too much astonished to speak after they heard this.

But the city they had struck was indeed a wonderful one, and beyond this we will not say much of it, as we have not the space at our command, and, besides, it would be deviating from our story too much.

Shortly after noon, Poppet asked Van to take a trip with him to see the prisoner.

Of course, our hero was only too glad to avail himself of the opportunity, and the pair at once set out.

The distance to the place where Doc Clancy was confined was not great, and they soon arrived there.

It was the same place where the villain had been taken by those who captured him on his entrance to the house where the girl was.

The cowardly villain was seated upon the floor of the cell he was confined in, the picture of abject misery.

"How are you, Doc Clancy?" said Van, placing his face close to the bars in the heavy, iron door.

A hopeful expression came over Clancy's face, and he at once rose to his feet.

"Have you come to take me out of here?" he demanded, in an eager tone. "Who was it that shot the lion and saved my life?"

"In answer to your last question, I will say that it was I who killed the lion," was our hero's reply.

An expression of amazement came over Doc Clancy's face.

"You saved my life! You! – when I have tried to kill you so many times!"

"Yes, it was I, and I nearly got into serious trouble by doing it. Now, Doc Clancy, I want to ask you to do something for me."

"What is it? I will do anything you ask."

"I want a written confession from you that your murdered my uncle."

For a moment the wretched man made no reply. Then he looked up slowly until his eyes were on a level with those of our hero.

"I will give it to you," he said, at length. "Write as I dictate, and when you have finished I will sign it."

In a moment Van produced his notebook and pencil from his pocket.

The next fifteen minutes was spent in writing the man's words, and then, with a trembling hand, the wretch signed it, Poppet being a witness.

The confession implicated the lawyer who had charge of all the affairs of Van's murdered uncle, and the boy vowed inwardly that he should suffer for the part he had played in the crime if he ever got back to his home.

"There, now!" exclaimed Doc Clancy, when he had signed the paper and handed it to Van, "I suppose you will get me out of here now, and let me go about my business."

"He has nothing to say about a matter of that kind," said Poppet, coldly. "You have a serious charge against you for insulting the daughter of one of our prominent citizens and you must suffer the penalty of your rash act. Also, it is the law of the African Utopia that a man who is proven a murderer – whether the crime was committed here or in any other part of the world – must die. Your confession proves that you are a vile murderer, and therefore, you must die!"

"What!" screamed Doc Clancy, in a frantic voice. "Van, you will not allow this, will you?"

"Come away!" exclaimed Poppet, taking our hero by the arm. "Bandy no more words with the scoundrel."

As they turned away from the cell, Doc Clancy uttered a yell of terror and fell to the floor in a fit.

CHAPTER XX.
OUR HERO FINDS A FATHER

Shortly after Van and Poppet arrived at the latter's house, a messenger came in, stating that the president of the city board would like an audience with the visiting strangers.

"We will get ready and go at once," said Poppet. "The president, who is a cripple, is an American, and no doubt he would be glad to see some of his own countrymen."

"We are not all Americans," spoke up Jack Howard; "three of us are English, you know."

"Four," added Joe. "My parents were born in England."

"Well, two of us are natives of the United States," said Van; "and so we will be very glad to see the president."

"So will we," exclaimed Jack. "I think just as much of America as any other nation on the face of the globe."

"I think enough of her to give all I am worth if I was only back there now," observed Lank Edwards. "I've got a wife an' three children waitin' for me in ther land of ther free, an' I am wery anxious ter git home again, I kin tell you!"

A far-away look came into the eyes of the honest-hearted mate, which caused his companions to change the subject.

In a few minutes they were ready to go to the president of the African Utopia, and with Poppet at their head, they set out.

As the city was very small, as was before stated, it did not take them long to reach the president's office, which was situated in the most pretentious building in the city.

Without any preliminaries whatever, our friends were ushered in.

They beheld a pleasant-faced man of middle age seated in a huge armchair, and when he arose to greet them they saw he was minus a leg.

Poppet introduced them as the six visiting strangers, but when the president had shaken them by the hand, he requested them to write their names in the book of new arrivals, so he might know their names.

Each one complied with the reasonable request, and then the man looked over the names.

When he came to our hero's signature he started as though he had received an electric shock.

"Which one of you is Van Vincent?" he asked, in a strange, unnatural voice.

"I am," replied Van, stepping forward.

The president gazed at the boy for fully five minutes before he again spoke, and it was plain to be seen that he was undergoing a great deal of excitement.

"I would speak to you alone," he at length said. "Your friends will please excuse us for a short time."

"While you are engaged I will show our friends through the city building," spoke up Poppet.

"Very well, if all are satisfied."

The next minute Van Vincent and the president of the strange city were alone in the room.

"So your name is Van Vincent," said the crippled man, gazing at our hero in a curious manner.

"It is," was the reply.

"Where were you born?"

Van quickly told him.

"Your mother is dead, is she not?"

"Yes," replied the boy, gazing at him in surprise. "My father is, too. He died somewhere in Africa, I believe."

"No, he did not!"

"What!" exclaimed Van. "Did you know him?"

"I did, and do now."

"Where is he, then? Won't you take me to him?"

"He stands before you, my boy. I am your father!"

Had a bombshell exploded, Van could not have been more astounded.

Was it possible that he had found his father in the heart of the Dark Continent?

It seemed scarcely probable, and yet, as he gazed at the man before him, he felt that it was certainly true.

With a coolness that was remarkable under the circumstances, the president drew a time-worn pocketbook from his pocket.

Opening it, he drew forth three small photographs.

"There," said he, handing them to Van, "is the likeness of myself, and also those of my family, when I had been two years married."

As Van gazed at the pictures a mist came before his eyes, and he was forced to catch the back of a chair for support.

The photos were those of a young man and woman, and an infant of probably a year old.

But this was not what caused Van to act so strangely. He carried duplicates of those very pictures in his pockets.

The man and woman were his father and mother, and the infant was himself.

That settled the whole business.

Father and son were united after years of separation.

"But, father," said Van, after both had somewhat recovered from their excitement, "how was it that you never came home?"

"It was impossible for me to make the attempt, my boy. Through the treachery of one of my own party, I lost my left leg just before I reached the gate of this wonderful city.

"I was picked up by the Utopians, and nursed back to health and strength, and then, knowing the terrible dangers I had passed through in order to reach this place, I agreed to live with them always, since it would be naught but suicide for me to start for the coast alone, crippled as I was.

"Your mother was dead, and you were in the care of my brother, whom I knew would take proper care of you, and so I tried to content myself here, and have succeeded very well, though many is the time I have thought of home and found the hot tears streaming down my face."

"You say you lost your leg through the treachery of one of your own party," said Van. "Tell me how it happened, won't you?"

"I will do that in a few words, my son. It was this way: The party I was leading on my tour of discovery had dwindled down to eleven men – six whites and five blacks.

"All, save one besides myself, had often declared that they would travel no further, but, under our persuasion, they would again start out.

"I began to notice that the fellow who took sides with me had more control over the men than I did, but thought nothing of it until one day, when I gave orders to resume our march, after eating dinner.

"It was then that the man I trusted deliberately drew his rifle to his shoulder and shot me; and then without a word they started over the back trail, leaving me lying bleeding upon the ground.

"The man who did that was a cousin of yours, Van. His name was John Moreland."

"What!" gasped Van. "Why, the scoundrel is in the city this very moment. He is the prisoner who is confined in the cell."

Then it was the elder Vincent's turn to be surprised.

Van now proceeded to relate all that had happened since his uncle's murder, and his father was deeply interested in the recital of the story.

"Well, my son," said he, after a rather long interval of silence, "John Moreland, or Doc Clancy, as you call him, will surely be executed, and after that happens I shall endeavor to work things so I shall be able to leave this beautiful country and go back with you to the land of our birth. And now you had better return to your friends and tell them that you have found a father. I will arrange things in my house this afternoon, and you and your companions will be my guests as long as you remain in the city."

Van now left his father and started to hunt up Jack Howard and the rest.

He soon learned that they had gone to take a look about the ancient though beautiful city, and taking the direction they had gone, he started to find them.

The boy was so elated and full of joy at the miraculous finding of his father, that he hardly noticed anything as he walked along.

Just as he was passing a fine-looking edifice, he was startled by the shrill scream of a female in distress.

In a moment Van's chivalric nature was aroused, and he turned his eyes in the direction the cry came from.

By the side of the building he beheld a beautiful girl struggling in the arms of a powerful-looking man.

Quick as a flash, Van leaped over the low fence in front of the house and rushed to the spot.

The girl was doing her best to get away from the man, who now held his hand tightly over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.

The next instant our hero's fist shot out and the brute staggered and fell to the ground.

CHAPTER XXI.
DIVERSE MATTERS

The blow Van had given the Utopian was such a heavy one that the fellow was dazed for a few seconds, and staggered about blindly after he had risen to his feet.

The girl had promptly flown to Van for protection, saying in fair English as he did so:

"Save me from that man! He is a villain, and I hate him."

"All right, miss," replied our hero. "I'll guarantee he shan't harm you while I am around."

Meanwhile the man, who was a big, burly fellow, had recovered himself and now stood glaring at Van like an enraged lion.

He drew a long knife from beneath the coatlike garment he wore, and made a move toward the boy.

Crack! It was our hero's revolver that spoke, and the knife dropped to the ground with a ring, leaving the fellow's arm hanging limp at his side.

The report of the revolver could but attract a crowd, and the next minute over a score of people were on the spot, among them being Poppet and Van's companions.

The cowardly villain watched his opportunity to sneak off, his wounded arm dangling at his side.

"Tell these people what has happened," said Van, addressing the girl.

She obeyed him promptly enough, and when she had concluded a cheer went up from the crowd.

"Thank you," said she, turning to her champion and shaking him warmly by the hand. "Call and see me this evening; my papa will be home then. Don't fail!"

The next moment she left the crowd and entered the house.

"By Jove! Van, you are a dandy, and no mistake!" exclaimed Jack Howard. "Here I have been all over this city, and haven't had an opportunity of being of service to an old woman, let alone a pretty girl like that. You are a lucky fellow, anyhow."

"Why," observed Joe, turning his large eyes upon those of the young Englishman, "do you like pretty girls so much?"

"I like all girls, whether pretty or not," replied Jack, "but in all my travels I never met but one girl whom I liked enough to take for a wife; and I was not with her long enough to learn much about her."

"Where was it you met her, may I ask?"

"Oh, it was here in this beastly African country. It was just after we started on our trip – some days before we came across you. She had a very pretty name, too. Masie Langford, I believe it was."

All at once Joe began to act very strange. He reeled about like a drunken man, and would have fallen to the ground had not Jack caught him.

"Why, what's the matter, my boy?" asked he, in surprise.

"Nothing – nothing. I had a faintness come over me, that's all. You know I am subject to fainting."

"That's so, little fellow. Well, never mind, we'll get back to the house and you can lay down. Here, take my arm, I'll help you walk along."

All hands now left the spot and started with Poppet for his house.

On the way Poppet explained to Van that the girl he had championed was the prettiest in the entire city and that she had suitors by the score.

She was the daughter of one of the city officers, and the same girl who had been insulted by Doc Clancy.

The fellow Van had knocked down was also a city officer, and Poppet was afraid there might be trouble on account of what had happened.

"In such a place as this there should never be any trouble," said Van.

"There has been very little heretofore," was the reply, "but ere long a great trouble will overtake the good people of the African Utopia. I have felt it in the air for months past."

"What is the matter? Is there a sort of split between the people?"

"That's just it exactly. Our good president leads what I consider a loyal faction, and the man you knocked down a few minutes ago is the leader of the opposite side."

"You think there will be a fight, then?"

"It is liable to happen at any time."

"Well, let it happen. We will take a hand in it. I guess we have enough cartridges left to kill off a hundred or two."

"I suppose you favor the president," said Poppet.

"I should say so. He is my father."

"What!" gasped the astonished Utopian. "Your father?"

"Yes, sir, he is."

"Come off, Van. What do you mean?" spoke up Jack Howard, who was listening to the conversation.

Van then related the result of his interview with the president.

Of course all hands were more than astonished. Their whole trip had been a regular romance, but Van finding his father topped it off completely.

But they had arrived at the house by this time, and nothing more was said on the subject.

That evening Van was more than particular in making his toilet.

He was going to call upon the pretty girl as he had promised.

He learned that her name was Metha Arundel before he set out.

He intended to make his call but a short one, as he had promised his father to be at the council meeting which was called to determine the manner of death Doc Clancy was to die.

Van had scarcely rapped upon the door of the house where the fair one lived when it was opened.

A servant ushered him into a brilliantly lighted room, where the girl and her father were awaiting him.

Both had learned by this time that Van was the son of the president, and they greeted him accordingly.

The old gentleman could converse very well in English, and when half an hour had been pleasantly spent he arose and took his departure for the council meeting, stating that he was going to make a charge against the man who had insulted his daughter.

Van soon forgot all about the fact that he intended to go to the council meeting.

Metha's company was so charming that it was quite late when he arose to go.

Though the couple had but met that day, both were badly smitten.

Now that Van had chased Doc Clancy to his doom, and found his father in such an unexpected manner, he felt that he could turn a little of his attention to love.

From the little he knew of Metha she just suited him; and vice versa.

It was too late to go to the council meeting when he left the girl, so he went direct to his father's house.

He found his friends all there with very ample accommodations assigned to them.

From them he learned that Doc Clancy was to be hanged the next morning at sunrise.