In Search of the Okapi Part 60

"Ngonyama, for the sake of the little ones and the women, for your own sakes, if ye wish to live, send a bullet to each mark."

"By Jove!" said Venning, "that's a good notion. The rock must be thin there, and the force of the bullet should crack it."

"Quick, white one. I can hear the death-song of our warriors. Quick, if ye would see the sun again."

Mr. Hume raised his Express. He saw the need as well as she for swift measures, and he planted each smashing shot on the little white mark at each corner of the square.

The square was starred with cracks from side to side, and before the echoes of the reports had ceased to roll and rumble through the vaults, there was a dark stain on the rock.

The water was coming through, but the woman, in her mad impatience, could not bear the delay. Clambering down, she worked feverishly at the cracks with a spear-head, and with a sharp hiss a stream of water like steam shot out.

"Climb up," roared Mr. Hume.

"Another thrust, Indhlovu, and a woman will have won. One blow for the sake of my child--the chief." Her long sinewy arm flew back, and she drove the spear-head into the crack.

Then came a tremendous report. The block of loosened stone flew out as if propelled from a big gun, whizzed far out, and after it, with a deafening roar, flashed a white column, that widened as it leapt forward. Spreading his arms, the Hunter threw himself back, bearing his companions with him, as a ma.s.s of water struck the platform on which they had stood. As the flood poured through the opening, tearing and screaming like a thousand furies, other fragments of rock were torn out and sent whirling down, to increase the terrible din rising up from the cauldron below, where the waters once again rushed and boiled through the dark tunnels, after their terrific leap. The whole upper s.p.a.ce of the great vault was filled with a mist, which condensed and fell in a fine rain upon the three crouching figures, deafened by the uproar, and expecting every moment to be involved in one complete break-up of the interior walls under the smashing blows of the flood. As they crawled back into the pa.s.sage for safety, some solid object crashed against the rock near them, and the broken blade of a canoe paddle shot past them into the pa.s.sage.

It was sign of the terrible fate that must have overtaken those of Ha.s.san's men who had entered the valley by canoe. It served as a spur to urge them to escape.

They crept into the Cave of Skulls, and there finding some relief from the uproar, Mr. Hume asked Compton if he knew the way out.

Compton nodded, lit the last of his candles, and, guided by marks he had made on the wall, led the way out and down to a spot where he pointed to a hole several feet above the ground. They pa.s.sed through that, and after a long and wearying march--during the last part of which the Hunter again carried Venning--they crawled out into the old cave, and through that on to the ledge overlooking the valley.

A glance took in the position. Muata's people were gathered on the tableland where stood the new village, watching the sinking of the river, as unaccountable to them as had been the swift rising in the night that had cut them off and marked them out as easy victims to the men in the canoes, which Ha.s.san, in his great cunning, had brought up to complete his plan for the complete destruction of the community. Of Ha.s.san's men, and the canoes, carried up through the forest with so much labour, there was no trace. Men and canoes must have been sucked into the canon, dashed to pieces, and swept down into the dark, probably to emerge in the Deadman's Pool.

Mr. Hume gave a hail to the people below. "Bayate!" they shouted, recognizing him. Some of the men swam across and came up.

They made a humble salute to the white men. "Great ones, the people are afraid. The earth shook and the water arose, and out of the dark came men in canoes. We were afraid. It was witchcraft. Again the earth shook, the waters sank, and the canoes were swept away."

"Say to the women they may go about their work in peace, for the white chiefs keep watch, and all is well. And say to the headman to send up food, fruit, milk, and the flesh of a kid."

These orders were promptly obeyed, and the three were soon busy at a good meal, that put life and strength into them, so that when they feasted their eyes upon the wonderful beauty of-the garden-valley, the horrors of the underground world swiftly faded into the background, phantoms of reality.

And while they rested in the afternoon, Muata came out of the gorge chanting his song of triumph at the head of the picked warriors who had gone down into the forest to hang on the trail of the wild men.

His song died away as his eye fell upon the still swollen river, on the sheen of pools gathered where the ground was flat, on the banks of debris showing the highwater mark far up the little side valleys.

"Greeting, Ngonyama!"

"And to you, chief."

"My brothers have not slept." The young chief's eagle-glance dwelt swiftly on the three friends. "They have looked on great trouble."

"You have come from victory, chief; your men are fresh."

"Ohe! they are fresh, for the fight was short."

"Then send some of them up the cliff on the other side, so that they may overlook the place where the river goes under."

Muata looked down into the valley again, and asked the question which he had been burning to ask all the time, but could not for fear of showing anxiety.

"So Ha.s.san has tried to drown out the valley?"

"The river rose and the river fell! While he sent some men to attack the gorge, he found the river-gate unguarded, and seized it, blocked the course of the river with a great rock loosened from above, and then, as the water rose, lowered canoes on the inside, and sent his men forward to eat up your village."

"Where was Ngonyama when the gates were unguarded?"

"In the caverns under the cliff."

"Wow!"

"The wise woman led us there. She left us there, fearing I, Ngonyama, would supplant you, her son; and on the second morning, when she found that Ha.s.san was too cunning, she came with an offer of liberty if we would destroy his plan. We told her the way. It was to let the water in."

"It was a good plan. Haw!"

"She let the water in to save the people of the valley, and Ha.s.san's men were lost utterly; but the first victim was your mother, Muata."

"It was a good death," said Muata, after a long pause.

"Ay, it was a good death, chief. Now send your men up the cliff, so that they overlook the river-gates."

"I will see to it, Ngonyama;" and Muata went down with his band to the village once again, chanting the deep-chested song of victory.

The jackal, who had accompanied Muata on the new trail, remained with his white friends. He was thin, he was famished, and he sat with his left front paw lifted. Venning, who had a fellow-feeling for one in distress, being himself worn out, took the paw, discovered a nasty cut on the pad, washed it out with warm water, treated it with carbolic, bound it up, and gave the animal the pot to dean, which he did, polishing it out with his long red tongue.

The boy and the jackal stretched themselves on a kaross to the sun, while Mr. Hume and Compton went away off to make sure about the Okapi; for, as they said, they were in no mind to lose the boat, after all their exertions, just because they were a little tired.

In the drowsy noon the tired boy slept, and through the afternoon, opening his eyes for a moment occasionally as the voices of the women rose to a higher pitch in a mournful dirge they were singing over the missing, and at intervals the jackal would raise his sharp muzzle and sniff the air. There was some note in the dirge that disturbed the boy, and there was some taint in the air that made the jackal uneasy. Once it stood up as if to explore, but the sight of its bandaged foot brought a pucker to his brows, and it curled itself up again after an intent look into the face of his human companion.

For the rest of the day the dirge went on, rising and sinking like the murmur of the sea in its flow and ebb on a still day. At dusk the two came back from their long march to the Deadman's Pool, bringing the report that they had recovered the missing boat, and concealed it in a place of their own choosing this time. Venning awoke to hear the news, but he heard it without enthusiasm, just as they had imparted the news in tones of weary indifference.

The sickness of the forest was on them all--its monotony, its vastness, and its brooding silence--and it caught them when they were most liable to the attack; that is, when they were tired out, with all the spring gone from mind and sinews.

"My poor father!" muttered Compton, as he sat down with his back to the rock. "No wonder he looked upon this as a prison, placed as it is in this wilderness of trees."

Mr. Hume nodded, and sat with his arms resting on his knees, smoking, and staring at nothing.

Muata joined them, but his coming did not rouse them.

"I have looked down on the gates, Ngonyama. As you said, the river was blocked by Ha.s.san; but there is no sign of the thief, only some canoes dropped by his men in their flight."

He sat down and smoked, too, with the same listless look on his face.

The jackal rose at his master's coming, and stood whining and sniffing the air.

No one took any notice of him but Venning, who coaxed him to him, and placed an arm round his yellow neck.

"Why don't they sing something else?" said Compton, irritably, as the mournful wail dinned its misery into his ears.

Muata looked at the white men. "It is the rains," he said.