The Veiled Man Part 13

Among the natives of the Upper Congo and the Aruwimi, even the hordes of that notorious king of slavers, Tippu-Tib,--so called by the negroes because the guns of his men created a noise, from which they have named him phonetically,--were more tolerated than the fierce Songhoi bands, with their black veils, which none ever removed, sleeping or waking; for the track of the latter through the forest or gra.s.s-land was always marked by murder, devastation, and wanton cruelty.

Dubois, when in the service of King Leopold, had been active in endeavouring to put down the trade, but seeing how lucrative it was, and finding Snape, an English adventurer, ready to join him, he had collected a following of the fiercest Touaregs he could gather, and as he paid all well for their services, while on their part they were proud to be led by a white man in whom they had once lived in fear, their trade had, for a long time, been a most lucrative one. They were the terror of the whole region from Stanley Falls to Tanganyika. A dozen times they had been north to El Obeid with ivory of both varieties, white and black, and on each occasion the profits had been far beyond their expectations. The trade is still easy enough in the Congo State, and slaves are captured without very much difficulty. The great risk, however, is to transport them by the route they had been following for the past two months, as, in order to reach the central market, they had to pa.s.s through that portion of British territory where a very watchful eye is kept, and where the notorious Arab raider Kilonga-Longa met his fate only a few months before.

But Dubois and Snape had run the gauntlet many times, and were absolutely fearless. On the present raid through the country of Emin and Junker, they had made their captures in the Moubouttou, within the Belgian sphere of influence, with the complicity of the Belgian agent at Sanga, whom they, of course, bribed with a goodly present of ivory; then, marching through the great Forest of Eternal Night, due northward to Zayadin, they had pa.s.sed through the d.i.n.ka country to Fatik, which, being only two days' march from the Bahr-el-Guebel upon which the British have posts, is a dangerous point. Nevertheless, they had pushed forward night and day, and were now in the centre of that great, sunburnt desert, the Wilderness of Nouer, which stretches northward for three hundred miles to El Obeid.

Dubois grumbled loudly at the Englishman for interrupting his meditations, saying--

"Go and sleep, _mon cher_. You'll be getting fever if you worry too much."

"Worry!" echoed Snape. "There's danger, I tell you. Surely you're not a confounded fool, man?"

"Ah," answered his partner, quite calmly, "is there not always danger here, in Africa? You have a wonderful imagination, my dear Henri, I quite admit; but do allow me to finish my sleep. Then let us talk of this extraordinary hole, whatever it may be."

"Idiot!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Englishman, hitching up his flowing white burnouse. He was a tall, good-looking fellow of forty, whose career, however, had been a singularly eventful one. Since he left Balliol he had met with a good many adventures in various lands, most of them being to his discredit. He had been a born gambler, and had drifted from the London clubs to the tables at Monte Carlo, and thence, by a very crooked channel, to that sink of the world, Africa, where chance had brought him in contact with the scoundrel and arch-slaver Dubois. They were a well-matched pair. At college Snape had taken honours for Arabic, therefore his knowledge of that language now served him in good stead.

He was one of those men who could never run straight, even though he had often tried. He was a born outsider.

"Why idiot?" inquired his partner lazily. The old negress waved the fan backwards and forwards, understanding not a word of the conversation between the headman and the great white Sheikh, who, on account of his raiding, the Touaregs had named The Father of the Hundred Slaves.

"Well, I'm not the sort of fellow to let the gra.s.s grow under my feet when there's any danger," snapped Snape. "You remember what Zafar said yesterday."

"He's like yourself, _mon cher_,--always apprehensive of some horrible calamity," muttered the Belgian, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips.

"This time, I tell you, it's no mere imagination," the Englishman went on. "Last night, after the _dua_, I left secretly, so as not to arouse any misgivings, and rode due east until the dawn, when I discovered, encamped among the _aghrad_, a whole troop of Soudanese soldiers. I got near enough to ascertain that the officers were Englishmen."

"Well?"

"They've got word somehow that we are pa.s.sing through," he said. "And now, if you don't stir yourself, you'll never see Brussels again--you understand?"

"I have no wish to see Bruxelles, _mon cher_," the elder man replied, quite undisturbed. "If I did, it would only be to see the inside of a prison. No; I prefer Africa to the pleasures of the miniature Paris.

Here, if one has a little ivory, one is a king. Life is very pleasant."

"I admit that," his companion said. "But do, for Heaven's sake, get up and let us decide what to do. There's danger, and we can't afford to be trapped, especially with all those n.i.g.g.e.rs tied in a string. The evidence is a bit too strong against us, and the officers are English.

There's no bribing _them_, you know."

The Belgian stirred himself lazily at last, and asked--

"Are they at a well?"

"No. They are without water."

"Then as this is the only well for about a hundred miles, they'll arrive here to-day--eh?"

"Of course. That's why I came straight to warn you. There's no time to be lost. Let's strike camp and get away. It's skip or fight."

"If we skeep--I suppose you mean march--ah! your English language!--then they will skeep in pretty quick time after us. They've got wind of our presence in the vicinity, therefore why not remain and fight?"

"Fight my own people?" cried Snape. "No, I'm d.a.m.ned if I do!"

"Why not?" asked the Belgian, with gesticulation. "Our Touaregs will slice them into mincemeat. Besides, at long range they're as good shots, and better, than those Soudanese, all fez and swagger."

"No," the Englishman argued. "Let's fly now, while there's time. In two days we shall be in the Nioukour, and they'll never find us in the mountains. We hid there quite snugly once before, you recollect."

"Muhala," said the Belgian, turning to the old negress, "go. Call Yakub, and remain outside."

The hideous old woman went forth into the sun glare, and in a few moments an old thin-faced Touareg entered, making a low salaam.

"Now, Yakub," exclaimed the Belgian in Arabic, "answer me. Of what did our caravan consist when we left the Aruwimi?"

"Three hundred and thirty-three slaves, and twenty-nine tusks," answered the villainous-looking old fellow.

"And now?"

"Seventy-three blacks and twenty-nine tusks."

"Then two hundred and sixty have died?"

"Yea, O master," he responded. "The new lash of elephant hide has killed many, and the black death has been responsible for the remainder.

Five are suffering from it now, and never a day pa.s.ses ere one or more is not attacked. I have feared that none will live to sight the mosques of El Obeid."

"In short, Yakub, they are a diseased lot--eh? You think they're worthless?"

"Only two women are left, O master, and both were seized by the black death yesterday."

"In that case," observed the Belgian, turning to his partner, "the whole batch are not worth transporting. The game is not, as you English say, worth the lamp."

"Then what's your suggestion?" asked Snape.

"Well, as you are so much in fear of these confounded English, we must, I suppose, act."

"How?"

"It is quite simple. We just abandon the whole lot, and save ourselves and the ivory."

"Very well," his companion agreed. "I'm open to any move except fighting against the English."

"Bah! You are full of scruples, _mon cher_ Henri," he laughed. "I have none--none. And I am happy--perfectly happy." He was silent a moment, as though reflecting deeply.

"But," he added, "I do wish we could teach these interfering English a lesson. It would do them good. They try to rule Africa nowadays. Ah!

if we could--if we could!" And there was a strange glint of evil in his eyes.

An hour later Dubois and Snape, at the head of their formidable troop of brigandish hors.e.m.e.n, were riding at full speed across the desert due west, towards the far distant forest of Dyonkor, it having been decided to skirt this, and then travel south for a fresh raid in Congo territory.

As for the poor wretches bound together, and dying of thirst and disease, they were still secured to the palm trunks and abandoned to their fate, tortured by being within sight of the well, yet unable to slake the frightful thirst consuming them. Dwellers in the damp, gloomy forest, where the sunlight never penetrates, the intense heat of the desert struck them down one after another, sending them insane or killing them outright.

Time after time Snape turned in his high Arab saddle, glancing back apprehensively to see if they were followed. But his partner only laughed sarcastically, saying--"You still fear your friends the English?

Ah! you have the heart of the chicken. All is quite unnecessary. We have made them a present of the whole lot, and I hope they will appreciate our kindness. Now we shall take it easy, and hope for better fortune with the next batch. I fancy that the new lash must be too hard. The women can't stand it, so it seems."

"A little less whipping and a little more water would keep 'em in better condition," Snape observed. "Yakub is eternally lashing them for some imaginary laziness or offence."