Courage, True Hearts Part 48

Frank replaced the beads in his pocket.

The king looked wofully sad.

"The wine," said Frank, and Duncan produced it. He poured some out into a little tin cup and drank, then corked the bottle.

"Goo--goo--goo!" exclaimed the king, excitedly.

"Why, the old rogue," said Duncan, "knows what it is. Let him smell the bottle."

"Confound him, no! He'd seize and drink the lot."

But he handed him some in a cocoa-nut sh.e.l.l, and having gulped that down, he handed the sh.e.l.l back to be refilled.

Frank laughed, but shook his head.

He now offered the beads and the bottle for the diamond, and at once the cannibal yielded.

He waddled over towards the G.o.d, and digging out the glorious gem with the point of an ugly crease--which doubtless had slit many an innocent throat--he handed it to the financier, Frank Trelawney.

Frank first put it carefully in his pocket, then he proceeded to insert three beautiful and large beads in the hole in the G.o.d's forehead, left empty by the abstraction of the gem.

"Goo--goo--goo!" cried the king.

"Don't be a big baby! You'll have the wine in a brace of shakes".

Determined to be honest, Frank not only placed a string of beads about the neck of the idol, but a larger and more handsome one over the king's broad brisket. Then he gave him nutful after nutful of sherry till there wasn't a drop left in the bottle.

The king thought he would sing now.

His song was like the snoring of an Indian frog. But the king was happy.

So was Frank.

"I say, Duncan," he said, "a knowledge of finance is an excellent thing.

And honesty is the best policy, isn't it? Well, we've made one man happy this morning. It is very soothing to one's conscience, and really, Duncan, I wouldn't mind making a few more cannibals happy--"

"At the same price?"

"That's it," said Frank.

The king slept, and, leaving his wives to fan him, the boys slipped away.

They now went back "home", as they called the haunted fort, then arranged for a day's sport.

The stream they soon reached was close to the forest, and seemed alive with fish. The tackle which they used was simple but effective. Not original either, for country boys in Scotland constantly use it, and though the marvellously-dressed and fully-equipped Englishman may fish all day and catch nothing, the ragged urchin not far off is making a string of dozens--a string that the c.o.c.kney eventually purchases and palms off as the result of his own prowess.

Such is life! But the tackle? Oh, yes, the tackle! Well, it was a bent pin, a short string and rod, with a morsel of an insect for bait.

But Duncan and Frank made a discovery to-day that was alarming.

After catching sufficient fish to suffice for more than one hearty meal, they hid their rods and tackle in the bush, and ventured to march towards the forest.

It was terribly darksome and gloomy, with very little undergrowth, and as they knew there were lions about they ventured forward with great caution, keeping close together, treading lightly, and keeping a good look-out on every side.

They had not gone far before they found that this great woodland was the abode of creatures, probably quite as much to be dreaded even as lions.

The first part they traversed, however, was apparently a land of delight, just as it was a land of the most brilliant flowering trees and shrubs, among which thousands of bright-winged birds chattered and sang, while parrots by the score mimicked them.

"Surely," said Frank, "we have come to paradise at last! Did ever you see such glorious fruit? Oh, we must indulge, Duncan, and carry back some guavas and mangoes to poor lonely Conal and Viking."

They did indulge, and that too without stint.

But this paradise soon drew to an end.

"Anyhow, Duncan," said Frank, cheerfully, "we shall know now where to find both fish and fruit."

"Hark!"

Well might he say hark.

The sounds that now broke harsh and terrible upon their ears would have appalled older and stouter hearts than theirs.

CHAPTER V.--FIGHTING THE GORILLAS.

Frank and Duncan had undoubtedly been rash. They had penetrated for fully a mile into the gloomy depths of this dark, primeval forest. The sun-life of beautiful birds and luscious fruits--Frank's paradise--they had left far behind. Here was nothing that could be called inviting: slimy, rotting leaves on the bare ground, with here and there a huge and ugly toadstool; and the branchless trunks of mighty trees covered with white and yellow mildew or flour-like fungi. And these trees towered skywards, forming a dark green canopy overhead, that no sunlight could ever penetrate, nor moonlight or star-rays at night.

The silence for some time had been both cold and irksome. I cannot otherwise describe it.

But now that dread silence was broken, and not only high overhead, but far away in front, the forest suddenly awoke into a sylvan pandemonium.

What yells, what shrieks, what hoa.r.s.e and fearful cries!

The boys instinctively drew closer together, and stood ready to shoot.

But nothing appeared, though the awful noises increased rather than diminished.

Frank saw Duncan's lips moving, but he could hear nothing.

Surely they were in a demon-haunted forest.

They looked at each other, then at once commenced a speedy retreat.

They ran as fast as ever they had done at school, and up behind them came the roar of the demons. But they could see no creature as yet, though they often glanced furtively behind them.

The enemy, however, seeing that they were but little more than a hundred yards from the sunlight, mustered up courage for the attack.