Tahara: Among African Tribes Part 17

Where is she?"

"She is well treated even though she is kept prisoner, for a white man is bargaining for her sale."

"What's _his_ name?" asked Dan, giving d.i.c.k a poke in the ribs and with an elaborate wink whispered, "I bet the old fakir can't answer a direct question."

"The name of the white scoundrel is Slythe, Jess Slythe. He is a bad man and will in his next life be less than the worms. Thus it is written."

Dan Carter thrust out his hand which the Mahatma grasped without understanding why.

"Attaboy, Old Whiskers!" said Dan. "Now you're talking! I don't wish Jess Slythe any bad luck but I'm hoping everything you say comes true."

d.i.c.k turned at this moment and saw Raal. He was sitting with his head between his knees, a picture of distress. d.i.c.k called him. "Come here, Raal!" And as the warrior obeyed, d.i.c.k talked to him kindly.

"Don't worry, Raal. This man, Mahatma Sikandar, is a very great witch-doctor. He can see things hidden from men and G.o.ds. By his magic, looking through that sacred ball which he holds so tightly in his hand, he can see everything that goes on in the world. He says that he can see into the village of the Muta-gungas." d.i.c.k paused for a moment to let his words sink in.

"Speak O Master! What does he see?"

"He sees Veena, who is kept a prisoner. She is not dead, as you feared, but is being held for a big bargain with Chief Mobogoma, just as Kulki told us. Jess Slythe is asking a big price for the white princess."

"How far away is she, O Tahara?" asked Raal anxiously.

d.i.c.k translated the question for the Mahatma who answered, stroking his beard:

"The village is a day's march from here."

"Then let us go at once, O Master. The bargain may be made quickly and after she is once in the hands of Mobogoma, she will be lost to us.

Hurry, O Tahara!" Raal threw himself at d.i.c.k's feet.

"Yes, Raal, we will go soon," answered d.i.c.k. "And perhaps Mahatma Sikandar will ask one of his tribesmen to guide us in the shortest way!"

The Mahatma nodded his head. "I will take counsel with my chief and it will be decided," he said slowly.

d.i.c.k rose and looked about as if he intended to order the men to get ready. But Dan put up a detaining hand, "Not so fast, d.i.c.k! There is plenty of time." Dan rubbed his stomach, "Don't you smell the eats?

That fruit and water we got a little while ago was just an appetizer.

I'm hungry as a bear!"

"Not thus does a man gain wisdom," muttered the Mahatma. "It is by fasting and meditation."

Raal was scowling angrily at Dan but d.i.c.k quieted him.

"The men are tired and hungry, Raal. Some of them are weak from the long journey. Mahatma Sikandar, the wise man, has ordered a feast to be set before us. After that we will go and the men will be better able to stand the march when their stomachs are full. Is that not true, Raal?"

"Yes, O Master, I know you speak the truth but my heart is heavy for fear that harm will come to Veena."

Suddenly Sikandar, who had been gazing into the crystal ball, said quietly:

"Tell Raal, the great warrior, that the little princess is safe.

Before two days are gone she will be under the protection of her own people. Do not fear."

Raal smiled but looked eagerly toward his horse as if anxious to be gone.

"Rest, my friends, and eat for the journey is hard and beset with many dangers."

"What do you see, Master?" asked d.i.c.k again seating himself beside the Hindu. "Shall we have to fight?"

"Yes, d.i.c.k Sahib, before two days are gone you will have to fight for someone you love dearly." The Hindu gazed into the crystal and did not speak for a long time. Then he straightened up and drew his hand across his eyes.

"I do not see clearly. A fog shuts out the sight. It is not meant that you should know. I cannot see!"

"Say d.i.c.k, don't put any stock in all that talk. I never thought you'd fall for a lot of bunk like that. How can he tell, by looking into a gla.s.s ball, what is going to happen?"

"Dan Sahib has still to learn what sorrow is. He will learn that lesson soon. That much I see."

"What does he mean, d.i.c.k?" asked Dan nervously.

But the Mahatma had put away the crystal, wrapping it carefully in the black cloth.

"There you've done it," scolded d.i.c.k. "We might have learned something that would help us. Instead of that, you insult him, and it's all off!"

At that moment the chief of the Kungora tribe approached and with much bowing announced that food was to be brought. The Mahatma retired to a sheltered spot to eat alone and in meditation. Dan and d.i.c.k sat down with the warriors.

"This is what I call service!" said Dan as a black boy spread large leaves in front of him and deposited there a large roasted spurfowl.

There were large steaks of gazelle meat, wild apricots and a kind of bread which the Mahatma had taught the natives to make, as he did not eat flesh but lived on grains and fruit.

Hungrily the warriors set to on the meal, pulling the birds apart with their fingers and devouring the bits in large mouthfuls.

"You would have made a good savage, Dan!" said d.i.c.k with a laugh, as he watched his chum.

"I wouldn't mind belonging to this tribe," Dan retorted. "If they can cook like this, I'm strong for them!"

But finally even Dan had to cry enough, for one course after another was being served and it seemed as if the feasting might go on for days.

The Kungoras still sat in a semicircle about the visitors and later d.i.c.k learned from the Mahatma that this was a sign of friendship.

"These blacks are a very peaceful tribe, I see," said d.i.c.k to the Hindu.

The Mahatma smiled tolerantly at his warriors. "_My_ ways are ways of peace," he said quietly. "But these savage souls are just emerging.

They will learn through suffering. But just now they are known to be the most warlike tribe in the jungles of Africa. Offer any one of them their choice between a feast and a big battle and they'd take the battle every time. And make no mistake about it, d.i.c.k Sahib, if I had not been here to protect you, this present life would be over for you and your young friend."

"I have no doubt of that, Mahatma Sikandar. And now as my men are refreshed I think we should go on to the rescue of our little friend."

"That will only be the beginning of your jungle journey. Another search will carry you far, far into its depths."

"Have you seen more?" asked d.i.c.k. "Tell me all, Mahatma Sikandar."

"It is not well for you to know all, d.i.c.k Sahib. For that reason a cloud comes between me and your search. But this much I can tell you.

Through suffering and dangers you will finally win. Make ready, my friend. The time is short."

"Your tribesmen are great warriors. Could you not send them with us to help us in our search?"

"My ways are ways of peace, my son. I cannot send my men into battle.