The night passed without , and dawn found the boys with the ubiquitous Wimba clinging like a shadow at Frank’s heels, stationed on a rise of ground west of the village.  
The ground here rolled away in an open treeless plain filled with grass of vivid to where a half mile distant a line of trees marked the beginning of a forest. It was rolling country, rich green pasture uplands with of forest here and there, and all rising in the background to a line of low hills that stretched away as far as the eye could see.
 
A never-ending source of surprise to the boys was the striking similarity of this country to the choicest New York State or New England landscapes. Evidences of occupation such as nestling amidst the greenery, the twin steel ribbons of railway, or stone fences or hedges, of course, were lacking. And the colors were more vivid, under the brilliant sunshine and seen through air untainted by the smoke of cities, than at home. The greens were greener, and the purples and greys of distance were deeper. Nevertheless, with cultivated fields and of cattle in the distant meadows, the similarity to scenes of home was so striking that on this particular morning , at least, experienced a of homesickness.
 
This feeling was soon , however, for an from Frank, echoed by Bob who ventured for the first time in days, recalled Jack to the present. Following the indication of Frank’s pointing finger, he saw the distant forest suddenly .
 
“By George, what a sight,” he cried as, the long rays of the newly-risen sun full upon them, the warriors advanced, five hundred strong, spread out in open order, with the beautifully decorated hide shields carried by the front rank gleaming in the sunlight.
 
Frank already was turning the crank of the motion picture camera, while Chief Ruku-Ru, separated for once from his arm chair, stood to one side watching him with absorbed interest. The advance of his drilling warriors meant nothing to the dusky , for it was something with which he was familiar. This strange machine, into which the young white wizard peered, while slowly turning a crank, was, on the other hand, a mystery.
 
So engaged in watching Frank was the chief that he did not at once note the panting messenger who came tearing up to the royal party from the direction of the village in the rear.
 
Then, as his eye fell on the boy, for such he was, the chief a few words to him sharply. The youth replied between , more at length.
 
Watching the advancing warriors, who now had come to a halt in the middle of the plain, where they knelt and took cover behind their shields, only their round black heads and long lances showing above, the boys paid no attention to this by-play.
 
Not so Wimba, however, for as the messenger poured out his tale, he clutched Jack by an arm and, having obtained his attention, repeated hastily what was being said.
 
“Him bad tribe raid village,” he said. “Carry off cattle and women. Boy escape and make tell Chief Ruku-Ru.”
 
“What! Great Scott!”
 
“What’s that? What’s that?” cried Bob, excitedly. “Say, Jack, if raiders cleaned out the village, maybe they went after our camp, too.”
 
Frank, unhearing, continued to crank his camera.
 
But Jack was dismayed. Bob’s words had aroused his own fears. Much of their was at the camp. Other cameras, thousands of feet of film, both taken and unused, clothing, gifts for various chiefs yet to be encountered, rifles and . These latter had been left behind, and the boys wore only their automatics. Above all, their radio had been left in camp. Clumsy handling might destroy it irreparably.
 
“Find out all you can, Wimba,” he commanded sharply. “Did the raiders go near our camp?”
 
“Maybe, they missed it,” he added hopefully to Bob. “You see we lie to one side and out of sight of the village.”
 
Wimba was rapidly the chief who, with a word or two, dismissed him, then turned to face the plain and using his arms as a semaphore went through a set of gestures which quite obviously were some kind of signal.
 
That they were so understood by the warriors was apparent, for the latter leaped forward in a tearing run that ate up the distance.
 
In the meantime, Frank, all as yet of what was going forward, cranked away for dear life, delighted with the marvellous picture he was obtaining, while the others questioned Wimba as to the chief’s reply.
 
“Him say no know,” replied Wimba. “Raid come from other side. Mebbe your camp, baas, not found.”
 
“Anyhow, we left a half dozen bearers with guns on guard,” said Bob. “They’d be able to stand off these armed only with bows and arrows.”
 
“Yes, if they didn’t get scared and run,” said Jack. “Look at those fellows come. They’ll be here in a minute. What’s the chief going to do?” Frank for the first time withdrew his head from the camera .
 
“Say, you chaps,” he cried delightedly. “You ought to see this. It’ll make one great picture.” He was about to place his eyes again to the machine and resume grinding, but Bob gripped him by an arm, and in a few words him of what was up.
 
To within twenty-feet of the chief, who had advanced several paces in front of the boys, charged his warriors at a furious rate. Then they suddenly halted, the whole mass, as if turned to stone. Execution of the in such dramatic fashion left the watching boys breathless. For a moment they forgot their own worries in of the Kikuyus, and Frank mourned loudly because Bob had restrained him from resuming camera operations in time to get that last picture.
 
The black warriors gazed expectantly at their chief, and the latter addressed them in a loud voice. When he had ceased, angry cries went up, and then, like a wave splitting on a rock, the warriors without more ado, parted into two divisions and, flowing on either side of the chief and the dumbfounded boys, charged over the hill toward the village.
 
“Come on, fellows, here’s a chance to see some action. Maybe, to take a hand in it,” cried Bob, starting in pursuit.
 
Chief Ruku-Ru had placed himself at the head of his men and departed on the run before the boys could so much as ask his intentions. The blacks were still flowing along, on either side of the boys.
 
“But my camera,” Frank, who was a great movie fan. “I can’t tote all this stuff myself. And I don’t want to leave it behind. Think of the chance to get a real battle picture.”
 
“I’ll take the dratted thing,” said Bob. And the legs of the tripod together, he gathered up tripod and camera, and started away, automatic already out and gripped in his free hand.
 
Jack picked up one reel case and Frank another, and, with Wimba and Matse clinging to their heels, away they went in pursuit of the running warriors.