Haviland's Chum Part 17

Pick up that end of him, and we'll carry him out."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

AFTER TEN YEARS.

"I say! Was I very 'dotty'?"

"Pretty well. But that's only natural under the circs."

"Talk much, and all that sort of thing--eh, did I?"

"Oh, yes. The usual incoherencies. But that's nothing. We're used to it. In fact, we now and then take a turn at it ourselves when this beastly up-country fever strikes us. Eh, doctor?"

"We do," answered Dr Ahern, turning away to attend to the unpacking and examination of some scientific specimens, but not before he had added:--

"I wouldn't talk too much if I were you. It won't hurt you to keep quiet a little longer."

A fortnight had gone by since the rescue of the solitary fugitive when in his last and desperate extremity; and, indeed, nothing but the most careful tending had availed to save his life even then--that, and his own const.i.tution, which, as Dr Ahern declared, was that of a bull.

Several days of raging and delirious fever had delayed the expedition at the place where it had found him, and then it had moved on again, though slowly, carrying the invalid in an improvised litter. At last the fever had left him, and his wounds were healing; by a miracle and the wonderful skill of the doctor he had escaped blood-poisoning.

The latter's back turned, the convalescent promptly started to disregard his final injunction.

"I say," he went on, lowering his voice, "it won't hurt me to talk a little, will it?"

The other, his tall frame stretched upon the ground, his hat tilted over his eyes, and puffing contentedly at a pipe, laughed.

"I don't know. Doctor's orders, you see. Still--well, for one thing, we've been wondering, of course, who you are, and how you got into the hobble we found you in."

"Well, I'm Oakley, and I've been inland a year and a half in the plant-hunting line."

"That so? I'm Haviland, and I've been up rather more than two years in the bug-hunting line, as the Americans would call it. Ornithology, too."

"So! Made a good haul?"

"Uncommonly. We've got some specimens here that'll make our names for us."

"Let's see them," said the other eagerly. "I was--am, in fact--keen on beetles, but I'm professionally in plants now."

And then these two enthusiasts set to work comparing notes. They clean forgot about the circ.u.mstances of their meeting or knowing more about each other; forgot recent perils and the brooding mysteries of the wilderness, as they hammered away at their pet subject, and talked bird and beetle to their hearts' content. In the midst of which a displeased voice struck in:--

"I'd like to ask if that's what you call keeping quiet, now."

Both started guiltily.

"My fault, doctor," said Haviland. "I let him go on. He's in the same line as ourselves, you know."

"Is he? He'll be in a different line from any of us if he gets thinking he's all right before he is. Sure, the const.i.tution of a bull won't pull a man through everything--not quite."

The patient accepted this grave rebuke with a smile, and lay still. He had not yet put these friends in need in full possession of the facts of his misfortunes, but there was plenty of time for that.

Ten years had gone by since last we saw Haviland, in imminent danger of expulsion from Saint Kirwin's, and which it is probable he only escaped through a far greater grief than that--the death of his father; and for the most part of that period his career has been pretty much as we find him now--a wandering one, to wit. He had not returned to Saint Kirwin's, for the potent reason that the parson had left his family in somewhat of straits, and the eldest member thereof was old enough, at any rate, to do something for himself. This had taken the form of a bank clerkship, obtained for him by an uncle. But to the young lover of Nature and the free open air and the woods and fields, this life was one that he loathed. It told upon his health at last, and realising that he would never do any good for himself in this line, the same relative a.s.sisted him to emigrate to South Africa. There he had many ups and downs--mostly downs--and then it occurred to him to try to turn his much-loved hobby into a profession. He obtained introductions to one or two scientific men, who, seeing through the genuineness of his gifts, offered him employment, sending him as a.s.sistant on scientific expeditions, and finally entrusting the leadership of such entirely to his hands. And he succeeded wonderfully. He had found his line at last, and followed it up with an entire and whole-hearted enthusiasm.

Yet such expeditions were no child's play. A capacity for every kind of hardship and privation, indomitable enterprise, the multifold perils of the wilderness to face, starvation and thirst, the hostility of fierce savage tribes, treachery and desertion or overt mutiny on the part of his own followers, and the deadly, insidious malaria lurking at every mile in the miasmatic equatorial heat. But the same spirit which had moved those midnight poaching expeditions at Saint Kirwin's was with Haviland now, and carried him through in triumph. Young as he was--well under thirty--he had already begun to make something of a name for himself as a daring and successful exploring naturalist.

He had kept in touch with Mr Sefton, as much as a correspondence of the few-and-far-between order could so be called, and from time to time obtained the latest news about Saint Kirwin's. Among other items was one to the effect that after his own departure the Zulu boy, Anthony-- otherwise Mpukuza--had turned out badly, had become so intractable and such a power for mischief that the missionary who had placed him there had been invited to remove him. This was done, and they had lost sight of him. Probably he had returned to his own land and reverted to savagery; and this, Haviland thought, was very likely the case. Yet he himself had been in Zululand, and had made frequent inquiries with regard to Mpukuza, but could obtain no satisfactory information, even in the locality where the boy was said to hail from. It was no uncommon thing for missionaries to take away their children and place them in schools, declared the inhabitants, and one case more or less was not sufficiently noteworthy to remain in their recollection. Nor did they know any such name as Mpukuza, and in the ups and downs of a somewhat struggling and busy life the matter faded from Haviland's mind as well.

As time went on the injured man, in spite of the steamy heat and a drained system, had recovered so as almost to regain his former strength; but, before this, the information he had given to Haviland and the doctor about himself had caused a change in their plans. Briefly, it amounted to this. His expedition, consisting of himself and a German botanist, together with a number of porters, had been surprised at daybreak by a party of Arabs and negroes who he had every reason to believe const.i.tuted a gang of Rumaliza's slave-hunters. So sudden had been the attack that the whole party was completely overpowered. His German comrade was shot dead at his side, and he himself got a cut on the head with a scimitar which nearly put an end to his days, together with a spear thrust in the shoulder. He had a distinct recollection of shooting two of the a.s.sailants with his revolver as he broke through them to run, and then for the whole day some of them had chased him. He had been wounded again by a spear, thrown by one who had out-distanced the others, but he had managed to shoot the thrower. Then he had lost his revolver while extricating himself from a swamp into which he had sunk waist-deep; and thus that most helpless object on earth, an unarmed man, and badly wounded into the bargain, had taken refuge in the deserted village to die.

"And precious hard dying you intended to make of it, old chap," had been Haviland's comment. "Why, it was the finest thing I ever saw in my life, the way you were laying about you with those old shin-bones. Make a fine subject for one of those groups of sculpture. The Berserk at Bay, one might call it. Eh?"

Well, it was no laughing matter at the time, they all agreed. But the worst of it was, Oakley had explained, that the ruffians who had surprised his camp had, of course, seized everything, including the whole of the specimens he had collected during this expedition, which latter would, therefore, be so much time, trouble, and expense absolutely thrown away. As for his bearers, such of them as had not been ma.s.sacred had, of course, been seized as slaves, and his property as loot; but it was just possible that the marauders, finding the botanical specimens utterly valueless to themselves, might have left them on the ground, in which event they could be recovered.

If, in their heart of hearts, Haviland and the doctor were not exultant over this idea, it is hardly astonishing; for, at the rate they had travelled while bearing the injured man in their midst, to return to the scene of the tragedy would mean about a fortnight's march, and that not merely of a retrograde nature, but one which would take them very near an exceedingly dangerous belt of country. But here was a brother scientist, the fruits of his toil and risk, the reward of his enterprise, thrown away, with just a chance remaining of saving them.

It was not in these two, at any rate, to let that chance go by, merely at the cost of an extra fortnight's march and a certain amount of potential danger.

Well, the march had been effected, and here they were at last on the site of Oakley's ravaged camp. A ghastly spectacle met their gaze.

Many of the bearers had been ma.s.sacred, and the ground was literally strewn with bones, either clean-picked by the ravenous carnivora of the surrounding wilderness, or with mangled tatters of flesh and sinew still depending. Skulls, too; in many cases with the features yet remaining, but all showing the same hideous distortion of the terror and agony which had accompanied their deaths. The remains of the ill-fated German botanist were identified and reverently buried, but everything in the shape of loot which the camp had contained had been borne away by the rapacious marauders.

But to the delight of Oakley, to the delight of all of them, his conjectures had proved correct. Following on the broad track left by the retreating raiders they came upon the lost specimens. The cases had been broken open, and, containing nothing but dried plants, had been thrown away and left. Some had suffered, but the bulk were entirely uninjured, and in his exultation the tragical fate which had overwhelmed his companion and followers was quite overlooked by this ardent scientist. The loot, too, of the camp was nothing. His precious specimens were recovered--that was everything. The doctor and Haviland, moved by vivid fellow feeling, rejoiced with him, and that exceedingly.

Yet, could they have foreseen what was before them, their exultation might have been considerably dashed. Their adventures had been many, their lives had been largely made up of perilous and startling surprises; but the greatest of these was yet to come, and that, perchance, at no very distant date.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

DANGER SIGNALS.

The odd man joining a party of two is by no means necessarily an acquisition, or invariably bound to preserve and promote the harmony already existing. In this case, however, the best happened. No more harmonious trio could be imagined than this one, as, having recovered the lost treasure, the expedition resumed its way. For Oakley proved to be the best of good fellows, and though several years older than Haviland, and with a great deal wider experience, he never for a moment forgot that he was with them now solely in the capacity of a guest. If his advice was asked he gave it, if not, he never by any chance volunteered it. Ahern and Haviland were, of course, tried comrades; and two years of sharing the same hardships, the same dangers, and the same aims, had bound them together as no period of acquaintance within the limits of conventional civilisation could ever have done.

The camp had been set for the day, whose full heat had already begun to strike in through the shading trees. The tired bearers were lying around, for the moon was again bright, and the marches were effected during the comparatively cool hours of the night. Some were cooking their root and grain diet, for game was exceedingly scarce, and they seldom tasted meat--as to which, by the way, they expected soon to strike a river, and all hands looked forward eagerly to a possible and plenteous feed of sea-cow flesh. Haviland and Oakley were seated together, consulting maps, the doctor the while was busy at the other end of the camp with a porter who had somewhat badly hurt his foot.

"By the way, Haviland," said Oakley, suddenly, "do you believe in the existence of that curious tribe of the Spider? I've known at least two men who believe in it firmly. One claims to have actually come into contact with it. If there is such a thing, we can't be far from its reputed country."

"H'm!" answered Haviland, musingly. "The more experience you gain of the interior, the more disinclined you are to say straight out that you disbelieve in anything. Now, that Spider tribe, if it exists at all-- and, mind you, I don't say it doesn't--would be a good deal further to the west than we are now. I don't think we have much to fear from it.

But there's a far nastier crowd than that, and within tolerable striking distance, too. It's a Zulu-speaking tribe, not so very numerous, but occupying difficult country, and the very deuce of a fighting mob. Some say it's of direct Zulu origin, others that it originated in a split among the w.a.n.goni down on the lakes. But I don't want to rub against it if I can help it. Ho, k.u.mbelwa!" he called.

In response there came up a magnificent specimen of a man. His skin was of a dark rich copper colour, and save for a _mutya_ of cat's tails, he wore no clothing whatever. His finely shaped head was shaven, and crowned with the Zulu head-ring. In comparison with the inferior natives who const.i.tuted the carrying staff--though some of these were of powerful and muscular build--he looked like an emperor.

"_Nkose_!" he cried, saluting, with right hand uplifted.

Then Haviland, speaking in Zulu, questioned him at some length. The man professed but a scant knowledge with regard to the tribe under discussion. He could not even tell its name for certain. It was reputed to change its name with every new king, and he had heard that a new king had succeeded rather lately. He was said to be quite a young man, but very stern and merciless in his rule. It was said, too, that towards white men he entertained a most extraordinary hatred. Anyhow, more than one who had entered his country had never been known to come out again. He had made himself troublesome, too, to more than one exploring party.

"Well, we'd better keep our eyes open, so as to give them a warm reception if they bother us," said Oakley, when this was translated.

"I know, and that's why I'm not over-keen on this hippo-shoot when we strike the river," said Haviland. "Far better go without meat a little longer than get ourselves into a beastly unequal fight. And the banging of guns can be heard a deuce of a distance. We'll call Somala, and get his opinion."