The Fire-Gods Part 11

The following day they determined to explore the rapids. They were already acquainted with the river-valley between Hippo Pool and Makanda, but as yet they knew nothing of the country which lay between their camp and the mangrove swamp on the Kasai. M'Wane, from the cocoanut-tree, had caught sight of the Long Ravine, which ended in the waterfall of which the natives had told them, the dull roar of which was frequently audible at Hippo Pool when the wind was in the right direction. They did not expect Edward back for some days, and each was of the disposition that chafes under the restraint of inaction.

Accordingly, soon after daybreak they launched the canoe, and taking with them three days' supplies and a quant.i.ty of ammunition, they shot down-stream to the north. The descent of the river was easy enough.

Throughout the journey Crouch kept his eye on the current. Since this grew stronger and stronger as they progressed, he did not desire to go too far, knowing full well that the return journey would be by no means easy to accomplish.

At a place where the river was exceedingly narrow, and the jungle on either bank even more dense and tangled than usual, they heard, on a sudden, the crashing of undergrowth in the forest, as if some great beast were flying for its life. A moment later a leopard sprang clear from the river bank. For a second the beast was poised in mid-air, its legs extended at full length, its ears lying back, its superb coat dazzling in the sunlight. Then it came down into the water with a splash.

For a few strokes it swam straight for the canoe. Max carried his rifle to the shoulder and fired. The beast was. .h.i.t, for it shivered from head to tail, and then turned round and swam back to the bank whence it had come. As it crawled forth, dripping, with its head hanging low between its fore-legs, the great snout of a crocodile uprose from out of the water, and the huge jaws snapped together.

Crouch, who was steering, ran the canoe into the bank, and a moment later both he and Max, their rifles in their hands, had set out into the semi-darkness of the jungle.

They had no difficulty in following the leopard's spoor. The beast was badly wounded and very sick. Every hundred yards or so it lay down to rest, and when it heard them approaching, rose and went on with a growl.

Presently it led them into a marsh--which Edward Harden afterwards called Leopard Marsh--where they sank knee-deep in the mud. There were no trees here. In the middle of the marsh, lying in a few inches of water, was the wounded leopard, wholly unable to rise.

"He's yours," said Crouch. "I'll stand by in case you miss."

Max lifted his rifle, took careful aim, and fired. On the instant, with a savage screech, the leopard rose with a jerk. For a moment it stood upon its hind-legs, rampant, its fore-feet fighting in the air. Then it came down, as a stone drops, and lay quite still.

Max felt the flush of triumph that every hunter knows. His blood tingled in his veins. He was about to rush forward, to gloat upon his prize, when from somewhere near in the forest a shot rang out, and a bullet splashed into the moist ground at Max's feet.

CHAPTER X--THE BACK-WATER

Crouch's voice was lifted in a shout. "Run for your life!" he cried.

Together they went floundering through the mire. They had to run the gauntlet for a distance of little more than a hundred paces; but, by reason of the nature of the ground, their progress was necessarily slow, and before they had gained the cover afforded by the jungle, several bullets had whistled past them, and Crouch was limping badly.

"Are you hurt?" asked Max.

"Hit in the leg," said the little captain, as if it were a trifle.

"There 're no bones broken, but I'm bleeding like a pig."

"Let me look at it," said Max. "The artery may be cut."

They were now well screened by trees. It was impossible that any one could come upon them unawares. Max took his knife from his pocket, ripped open the seam of the captain's trousers, and examined the wound.

The artery was untouched, but there was an ugly wound in the thigh, which had evidently been made by an enormously heavy bullet.

"Caesar's elephant-gun," said Crouch. "By Christopher, I'll make him pay for this!"

"Are you sure of that?" said Max.

"Yes," said Crouch. "I caught sight of something white moving among the trees. I knew at once that Caesar was there with his Arabs."

Meanwhile, with quick fingers, Max was folding his handkerchief lengthwise for a bandage.

"Wait a bit," said Crouch. "I'll soon stop that flow of blood. I've a special remedy of my own." Whereupon he produced his tobacco-pouch; and before Max could stop it, he had taken a large plug of his vile, black tobacco, dipped it into a puddle of water, and thumbed the lot into the open wound, as a man charges a pipe.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Max, with memories of his hospital days.

"You'll get septic poisoning! You can't do that!"

Crouch looked up. There was a twinkle in his only eye.

"So much for science," said he. "When you get back to London, you can tell the doctors they're wrong. If it amuses 'em to play with antiseptics--and they're fond of the smell of carbolic--they're welcome to do what they like. As for me, I've used this remedy for twenty years, and I'm not inclined to try another."

Max looked worried. He was convinced that Crouch would die of blood-poisoning, and was beginning to wonder how, in that benighted, tropical forest, he was going to amputate the captain's leg.

"Don't you fret," said Crouch, tying the bandage himself. "Maybe, one brand of tobacco's not so good as another. It's my belief that if they cut off your head, you could stick it on again with Bull's Eye s.h.a.g." By then he had got to his feet. "Come on," said he; "this man won't let us get away if he can help it. Follow me."

So saying, he plunged into the jungle, and though he was now limping like a lame dog, it was all Max could do to keep up with him.

Time and again he dived through what had looked like impenetrable thickets. He seemed to know by instinct where to go. He avoided quagmires. He sprang over fallen trees. He wormed his way through creepers, the branches of which were thick as ropes.

Frequently he stopped to listen, and sometimes placed his ear to the ground.

"They're after us!" he cried once. He pulled out his compa.s.s and looked at it. "We must get back to the canoe," he said. "The river's to the east."

Soon after they struck what to all intents and purposes was a path. It was, in fact, the "run" of some wild animals, and doubtless led to the place where they were in the habit of drinking. It was no more than two feet across; and about four feet from the ground the undergrowth from either side met in a kind of roof; so that they found themselves in a tunnel, along which, if they stooped sufficiently, they were able to make good headway.

Suddenly Crouch, who was still leading, stopped dead, and held his rifle at the ready. Max stopped, too, and listened.

Something was moving in the jungle. They heard distinctly a quick, panting sound, coming nearer and nearer.

"There!" cried Crouch. "Shoot!"

He pointed down the tunnel, in the direction they had come. Max turned, and beheld the head of a great beast thrust through the leaves of some creeping plant that bound the trunks of two trees together in a kind of lattice-work.

It is unfortunate that the mind cannot retain a complete recollection of scenes that have momentarily impressed us. Most of us, when asked to describe in every detail even the most familiar objects, fall very short of the mark. How much more so must this be the case when we look upon something for no longer than a second, and then it is no more.

Max will never forget that moment. He remembers the main features of the scene, but there were a thousand and one details, which impressed him at the time, that he is no longer able to remember.

The semi-darkness of the jungle; the moist ground whereon he stood, where multi-coloured orchids showed like little evil faces in the twilight; the tangled undergrowth; and in places, like peep-holes through which the daylight streamed, the shadows of the tall trees towering high above. The scene, in its luxury and darkness, stood for all that is savage, for all that is Africa--the country where the white man ventures at his peril. And if anything were needed to complete this strong suggestion of the wild, it was the great head and white, gleaming fangs of the unknown beast which, half invisible, seemed as if it were the unholy spirit of the place. On the spur of the moment, Max lifted his rifle and fired.

"Well done!" cried Crouch, who brushed past his elbow.

A moment later they found themselves kneeling on either side of the prostrate and lifeless figure of Gyp.

"There lies our thief," said Crouch; "and the thief's master 's not so far away."

Max felt profoundly sorry in his heart that he had killed so magnificent a creature. If the dog had hunted them, she had been told to do so by her master. The only crime which could be laid to the account of the Great Dane was obedience to Caesar.

They remained by the body of the dog no longer than a few seconds, and after that they pushed on upon their way, still following the course of the tunnel, or "run." At length, when least they expected it, they found themselves at the water's edge, at the place where the rapids were inordinately swift.

The water foamed and swirled upon its way, lashing the banks, forming little whirlpools in mid-stream, and bounding in waves over the trunks of trees which had fallen into the river.

"Sit down," said Crouch. "There's no hurry. We may as well talk matters out."