The Blind Lion of the Congo Part 25

"Say, was last night all a dream?" asked Burt, soberly, as he stared at his chum. "Or did we really put it over--"

"You bet we did!" cried Critch with a grin of recollection. "No dream about that, old man. We've only been here two days, but we've done a heap of things. Now we got to finish the lion. Then we can see about getting off."

"I'm not anxious to monkey with Pongo," stated Burt. "However, we might send out Mbopo to trail him. I'll take him over to the hut if you'll get some breakfast fixed up."

"I'm on," exclaimed Critch. Upon leaving the hut, the two boys found themselves objects of awed veneration from the pigmies. They met Mbopo, and Burt took him out to the sacred hut. Here he described the fight with Pongo in detail, not mentioning when it occurred and purposely leaving the dwarf rather confused. There could be no such doubt about the struggle itself, however, and Mbopo nodded understandingly.

They then left the ivory zareba while Mbopo made a cast around the place for the lion's trail. Burt accompanied him, and Mbopo soon uttered a shout of excitement. Running to his side, Burt saw the beaten spot in the tall gra.s.s where the lion must have alighted from his last leap over the ivory zareba after having been wounded. There was a speck or two of dried blood in evidence, and Mbopo found more blood farther on, as well as a clearly defined trail. The excited pigmy was for following it up at once, but Burt held him back. By dint of much patience he made Mbopo understand that Critch, whom the pigmies called "Mwanzi," or "Red-head," must accompany them, as well as some warriors. Burt had had one experience with a wounded lion and he intended to take no chances this time.

The two returned to the village where Mbopo shouted forth his news, and Burt was instantly the center of an excited mob. He pushed through them, however, and found Critch with breakfast ready. Over the meal they discussed the matter of the lion, and decided to start out at once.

"Mebbe they'll go without waitin' for us," suggested Burt, glancing at the chattering crowd of warriors around the young chief. Critch shook his head.

"Not much. They ain't got the nerve. They'll do whatever we tell 'em, but they won't leave us out o' the game, take it from me."

As soon as they had finished, the boys joined Mbopo. Their first object was a search for weapons. Critch suggested taking two of the spears, whose blades were over a foot long and keen as a razor, but Burt objected.

"We don't know how to use them," he said. "Let's see; didn't Cap'n Mac say something about trade-guns?"

"Mebbe he did," a.s.sented Critch, "but I haven't seen any sign of guns around here. Let's ask Mbopo."

They tried to make the young chief understand, but without success.

Thereupon the boys took matters into their own hands, and began a search among the largest huts. This was presently rewarded by the finding of an old Snider, wrapped in tarpaulin. There were three cartridges in the magazine, but no more. These were displayed to Mbopo, but he stated that there were no more weapons of the kind in the village.

"Well, she seems to be in pretty fair shape," remarked Burt, squinting down the barrel of the rifle. "Get some palm oil, Critch. Three bullets ought to do."

"Don't catch me around when you fire that thing," sniffed his chum disgustedly. "She's liable to bust. I'll bet she's twenty years old."

"Better'n a spear at that," chuckled Burt, oiling the rifle until it worked perfectly. "We ain't so badly off, Critch. There, I guess that'll do. Ready?"

Critch armed himself with one of the spears, and at the head of twenty picked warriors they left the village. Mbopo led the way to the spoor already found, and Critch at once ordered the pigmy warriors to follow it up.

"Let 'em take the chances," he grinned. "They ain't scared now I'm along. If they find Pongo you can finish him with the gun--unless the gun finishes you."

"You're sore because you didn't find the gun yourself," retorted Burt.

"Come on, they're quite a ways ahead."

The pigmies had started at once along the spoor of the lion, spreading out on either side and calling to one another continually. The boys followed more carefully with Mbopo. The spoor led them through the long rank gra.s.s into the forest, and was easy for the boys to read.

The lion had made only one leap after leaving the zareba. This had taken him almost across the gra.s.sy s.p.a.ce. Upon reaching the first thicket he had crawled along and left a plain blood-marked trail for the hunters to follow. A hundred yards farther on they heard a shrill yell from ahead, and hurried on.

Emerging from the thicket, they found the pigmies cl.u.s.tered about a clump of thorn-bushes. These were almost impenetrable save by the trail left by the lion. The pigmies reported to Mbopo, who turned to Critch.

"Him Pongo in there," he stated, pointing to the bushes with a grin.

"Mwanzi kill? Vera good!"

Critch hesitated. He glanced at the waiting pigmies, who evidently had not the slightest intention of robbing him of the honor of going first.

"Come on," he muttered to Burt. "We got to pull the bluff through right here. Have your gun ready."

Burt nodded. The two boys, their hearts beating fast, advanced to the edge of the thicket. No sound came from the bushes, and Burt thrust the first branches aside as he entered. The thorns made sad havoc with their clothes, but the boys were too anxious to heed this. A moment later Burt gave a startled exclamation. Critch came to his side, and the boys saw a tawny shape lying ahead of them.

"Is he dead?" whispered Critch.

"Can't see him plain enough," responded Burt. "If he jumps and I don't stop him, try to catch him on the spear."

A few steps farther on and the lion came into full view. He was lying on his side, stretched out, and something black hid his head. Burt levelled the gun, but as he did so the black object resolved itself into a swarm of flies, who buzzed up at the noise made by the boys.

"Hurray!" shouted Burt, flinging down the gun, "he's dead!"

"Look at the axe!" yelled his chum, pointing to the weapon that was almost buried in the skull of the beast. "Golly, you must have hit like fury! Hey, Mbopo!"

The pigmies were not far behind the boys, and at the shout they came dashing forward. A shrill yell went up as they saw the dead lion, then all remained silent and motionless, gazing down at the form of the beast which they had worshipped for so long. That he was blind could be easily made out, for the white scar ran across his eyes, which were not pleasant to see. Burt turned away with a shudder.

"Leave Mbopo to skin him, Critch. I'm goin' back where it's cool."

His chum nodded, directed Mbopo to skin the lion and followed Burt back to the shade of the hut. There the two boys settled down for a talk.

"We got nothing to worry over now," remarked Critch, "except the getting away. How'll we keep the skin of Pongo?"

"Let Mbopo do that," replied Burt. "They can fix it so it'll keep long enough to get down the river with anyhow." He suddenly sat up. "Say, building that raft is going to be some job! Let's have a look at the river."

"Come on," and Critch sprang to his feet. "If we do get off, Burt, let's take a collection o' these pigmy weapons. Wouldn't they be swell in our rooms at home?"

"Right now I'd take the rooms without anything at all in 'em," grinned Burt, who was fast recovering his spirits in the fresh morning air. A few moments later they reached the village, which stood on the river bank, and descended by a well-worn path to the edge of the stream.

"There's some big trees growin' handy," announced Critch. "How'll we make it?" Burt thought a moment.

"Why," he replied slowly, "take four big logs an' lash 'em in a square.

Then put four on top o' them, with a platform. That ought to float pretty high even with a good load. Guess we'll have to make two rafts, though. We couldn't carry any men an' that ivory on one, 'less we made it almighty big."

"The river wouldn't stand for a very big one," suggested Critch. "Go an'

get a bunch o' the men, Burt. We might as well pitch in right now."

Burt nodded and returned up the path, leaving Critch to inspect the trees growing at the edge of the river. He returned with a score of men, all of whom brought their little axes. They looked wonderingly at the two boys.

"Here's a good tree," declared Critch, pointing to one about two feet through. "We'll take an axe an' show 'em how to do it."

Shedding their upper garments, for the place was by no means cool, the boys fell to work on the tree. The pigmies comprehended at once, and also went to work on three other trees picked out by the boys. The latter, having started things satisfactorily, flung themselves down in the shade and directed operations.

When the first tree was about to fall, they showed the dwarfs how to make it fall toward the stream, so that it lay half in the water. There seemed to be no crocodiles in the river, the men splashing about without fear. Then Burt took a spear and measured a straight section of the trunk for three spear-lengths, or fifteen feet. While Critch saw that this was lopped and cut rightly, Burt visited the other workers.

All this, however, was not done in a few moments. The axes of the pigmies were keen, but they were also very small. No sooner had the work begun than the whole tribe came down from the village to look on with wondering interest, and Mbopo shortly after arrived also.

It was well into the afternoon before the four trees were down, and not until noon of the next day were they cut into the proper lengths and trimmed. Finally, however, the logs lay end to end in the shape of a square, in the shallow water. Burt now explained to Mbopo that these were to be fastened together. The young chief comprehended at once, and with strips of tough hides had the first part of the raft completed by nightfall.

The abundance of help lightened the work wonderfully, as the other warriors learned the work. They went at it like children, laughing and playing continually, until the two white boys wondered how they could ever have stood in fear of these pranking dwarfs who were so full of fun and laughter.