The Fire-Gods Part 8

"Stay," said Crouch; "I've not come here for philanthropic purposes. If I do this for you, you must do something for me. Otherwise you can stay here--and die."

"What is it you want?"

Crouch bent forward and whispered in the man's ear, speaking distinctly and with great deliberation.

"I want to know what's inside the padlocked chest that Caesar keeps in his hut. Come, out with the truth!"

On the instant the man sprang out of bed and seized Crouch by the wrists. He was so little master of himself that hot tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was shaking in every limb. It was as if his neck was not strong enough to support his head, which swung round and round.

"Not that!" he screamed. "For pity's sake, not that!"

"Come," said Crouch; "the truth."

De Costa drew back. "I daren't," said he.

"Why?"

"Because he--would kill me."

"Look here, you have to choose between two men," said Crouch: "Caesar and myself. Trust me, and I'll see you through. You told me you had heard of me before. You may have heard it said that I'm a man who sticks to his word through thick and thin, once it has been given."

As Crouch said this he noticed a remarkable change that came on a sudden upon de Costa's face. The man's complexion turned livid; his jaw dropped; his eyes were staring hard over Crouch's shoulder, in the direction of the door.

Crouch whipped round upon his heel, his revolver in his hand, and found that he stood face to face with Caesar.

"By Christopher," said he, "you're mighty silent!"

"And may I ask," said Caesar, "what you are doing here?"

Crouch made a motion of his hand towards de Costa, who had sunk down upon the bed.

"This man's ill," said he; "in fact, he's dying."

"He is always dying," said Caesar, "and he never dies. He has the vitality of a monkey."

"It doesn't seem to distress you much," said Crouch. "Since you have lived together for two years, in a forsaken spot like this, I should have thought that you were friends."

Caesar threw out his hand.

"Ah," he cried, "we are the best friends in the world--de Costa and myself."

He stood looking down upon Crouch, with his white teeth gleaming between his black moustache and his beard. In that light it was difficult to see whether he smiled or sneered. There was something mysterious about the man, and something that was fiendish.

"And so," he ran on, "Captain Crouch has taken upon himself the duties of medical officer of Makanda? I'm sure we are much obliged."

"I have some experience of medicine," said the captain.

"Indeed," said Caesar. "And do you always operate with a revolver?"

For once in his life, Crouch had been caught off his guard.

"In this country," he said, "I am seldom without one."

"You are wise," said Caesar. "I myself am always prepared."

With a man like Crouch, this kind of verbal sword-play could never last for long. He was too much a creature of impulse. He liked to speak his mind, and he hated and mistrusted this thin Portuguese as a mongoose hates a snake.

"There are no laws in this country," said he, "and there are certain times when it's not a bad principle to shoot at sight. In the civilized world, a man goes about with his reputation on the sleeve of his coat, and all men may know him for what he is. But here, in the midst of these benighted forests, one must often act on instinct. To kill at sight, that's the law of the jungle; and when men come here, they'd do well to leave behind them what they know of other laws respecting life and property and rights. If I'm wise to carry a revolver, perhaps I'm a fool because I hesitate to use it."

Here was a plain speaking, an outright honesty that quite disarmed the Portuguese. If, hitherto, Caesar had held the upper hand, Captain Crouch had now turned the tables. Whether warfare be carried on by words or amid the clash of arms, the victory lies with him who best knows his mind. And Captain Crouch did that. It was as if he had thrown a gauntlet at the tall man's feet, and defied him to pick it up.

But Caesar was never willing to fight. His was a quick, calculating brain, and he knew that the odds would be against him. Listening outside the hut, he had overheard the greater part of the conversation which had taken place between Crouch and the fever-stricken half-caste.

His secret, which he kept under lock and key in the strong chest at the foot of his bed, he was prepared to guard at every cost. He saw now that Crouch was an adversary not to be despised. It was necessary for him to take steps to seal de Costa's lips.

Though the man no longer showed it in his face, Caesar was by no means pleased at the appearance of the Englishmen. Though he was affable and polite, all the time he was scheming in his mind how to get rid of them as quickly as he could. For the present, he decided to bide his time, hoping that, sooner or later, Fate might play into his hands. Whatever happened, he was determined that they should not suspect him of any sinister intention, and on that account it behoved him to keep up an appearance of friendship. He answered Crouch with all the pleasantry of manner he had at his command.

"Captain Crouch," said he, "you are a man after my own heart. I also respect the laws of the jungle. I have shaken the dust of civilization from my feet. It is only the strong man who can do so. In you I recognize an equal."

In his heart, Crouch stigmatized such talk as this as high-falutin'

nonsense. Still, he thought it unwise to hatch a quarrel with the man, and answered with a kind of grunt.

"I suppose you're right," said he.

"And what of our poor invalid?" said Caesar, turning to de Costa.

Side by side, these two men, who were already sworn enemies in secret, bent over the prostrate figure of the half-caste. De Costa lay with one arm hanging listlessly over the side of the bed. His eyelids were half-closed, and underneath the whites of his eyes could be seen. When a man sleeps like that, he is in a bad way. The sands of life are running down.

"He's asleep," said Crouch. "That's all he wants. The fever has subsided. He'll be much better to-morrow. Let us leave him."

Together they went out. The little sea-captain walked back to his hut, and threw himself down upon his blankets. As for Caesar, he remained standing in the moonlight, with his long fingers playing in his beard.

For some minutes he remained quite motionless. The silence of the night was still disturbed by the strange sounds that came from out of the forest. The man seemed plunged in thought. Presently a soft, moist nose was thrust into the palm of his hand, and looking down, he beheld his great dog, which, unable to sleep by reason of the heat, had followed her master into the moonlight.

"Gyp," said he, in a soft voice--"Gyp, old friend, how are we to get rid of these accursed Englishmen?"

The dog looked up, and licked her master's hand.

"Come, Gyp," said Caesar; "come and think it out."

He entered his hut, and sat down upon the great, padlocked chest. There, he took the dog's head between his knees. She was a Great Dane, and even larger and more powerful than the majority of her kind.

"Do you know this, Gyp," said he: "de Costa can't be trusted?

Fortunately, you and I, Gyp, know a way to make him hold his tongue."

At that, the man laughed softly to himself.

Meanwhile, in the other hut, the quick brain of Captain Crouch was not idle. He had learnt much that night; but the secret was still unsolved.

He had not been slow in discovering the weak point in Caesar's line of defence: the little half-caste could be induced to speak the truth.

That the man was not an ivory trader, Crouch was fully convinced.