When I had penetrated several hundred yards into the jungle on the bosom of this winding stream, the shadows from the overhanging trees were again exceedingly dense. I confess I had a poor stomach for doing much of this sort of thing at the end of day. My brain began to invent excuses for proceeding home and coming again when the light was better. A number of scares, to which I had been subjected during the day, had contributed largely to this lack of proper enthusiasm. Soon I conceived a brilliant scheme for determining whether this stream were inlet or outlet to the lake. In either case there would be a slight current. I would stop the boat and let it drift. If it went on “up” I could be sure I had found the outlet which in all reason should flow eventually to the sea; if I drifted back toward the lake, I must continue my search on the morrow.
Pulling slowly to the next turning, I brought the craft to a standstill and awaited results. For a long time I failed to detect any movement in either direction, so sluggish was the current. I became absorbed in studying a number of stakes, which stood in the water, near the bank. “Surely,” I thought at last, “we are moving slightly—down the stream.” Was it then actually the outlet for which I was seeking?
I grew excited as I watched the stakes. Then I began to comprehend something. These stakes suggested order. Could it be possible they had been planted? I could not see how they could get there at such semi-regular intervals, in any natural manner. How far did they extend? Where was the first one I had noticed? I looked back. Then I was convinced, abruptly, that the boat was drifting down the stream much more rapidly that I had suspected.
It was the outlet!
This truth flashed upon me with all the power of instantaneous conviction. I forgot the stakes and all the line of speculation which their mysterious presence had engendered. I looked toward that green gate of deliverance. Mentally I saw myself rowing and drifting down this gentle, winding current, hastening away from this extraordinary land—away from this jungle fastness to the great open sea. A thousand suggestions came tumbling in upon me, as to how to provision my boat, how to leave the Links, how to sleep at night on “Outlet” river, how to search for a village when I should find myself at last free, and how then to take a steamer and hasten back to the world which was really a world!
“The outlet!” I muttered in fervent thankfulness. “Freedom—Life—Home!”
I was wrought to a fever in my excitement of hope; I was all but transported, thus to find the gate that let me out of my prison of greenery, when suddenly I nearly froze from chills and paralysis of all my senses and blood-circulation.
A voice rose clear in the silence of ended day—a human voice, in that wilderness of jungle and jungle-creatures,—a voice pronouncing words in English—a singular mixture of words with no reason. Then presently they settled into the musical order of poetry:
“There was a sound of revelry by night,And Belgium’s capital had gathered thenHer beauty and her chivalry, and brightThe lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men,And when music arose with its voluptuous——”
“There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men,
And when music arose with its voluptuous——”
I arose to cry out at the top of my voice. A human being—a man, no doubt, was in reach of my voice—a friend, companion, perhaps, to share my fate and solitude! I filled my lungs for a mighty halloo—a cry to this partner in exile—when out from the trees on the bank, not a spear’s throw distant, issued a black, ungainly form—and then another.
Links! They were black Missing Links!
Those stakes were theirs! I had found their camp. The voice—this human being—was he then a prisoner? What did it mean—and what should I do?
To cry out meant instant detection—perhaps immediate death. The two had failed to see me—they might go back. But I was drifting—drifting toward them. One of them turned about.
A yell went up immediately. I was known. The alarm spread like prairie-fire, up through the wood. I swung the boat about like mad and headed for the lake. A club came whizzing through the air, struck in the water beside the boat and splashed me with spray. A score of the villainous looking devils came running to join their companions. Along the bank they dashed in pursuit, crying out and making crazy gesticulations. The water foamed where it left the oars and it rippled and swashed from the prow of my craft. Club after club came hurtling toward me, end over end. One of these struck the stern a resounding thump; the demons cried out savagely and showered more. A small one would have dashed out my brains had I not been quick to duck to the bottom of the boat.
I shot across the river to the opposite side, but a curve gave my infuriated pursuers a slight advantage. It seemed as if the thickets and trees were simply bridges over which the creatures hurried the faster. Making as if to sweep along below them, I back-watered one of my oars and pulled with the other, at the turn, spinning the boat clean about to hard-a-port, and sent her ahead so swiftly that all the clubs, which the devils threw at point-blank range, plunged stone-head first into the ripples behind.
“Never touched me!” I bawled out in derision.
They screamed in impotent rage. I rounded the curve and sped away with all the advantage mine. They gave up the chase. Ten minutes more saw me out on the lake and well away.
Before I got home I had ample time in which to think. What a strange concatenation of events! The outlet discovered, deliverance almost assured me, and then to find the camp of my bitterest enemy on the very bank of my gateway to freedom! But that human voice—what could it mean?
I began to speculate and to reason from deduction. Inasmuch as I had lost myself and been found by the red Missing Links, it was evident that another man could have met with some accident which would have thrown him in contact with the Blacks of the same family or species. The Reds had treated me with marked consideration from the first, therefore the Blacks might do the same for another of my kind. More than this, the Blacks had manifested not only an extraordinary interest in myself, that day when first I met them at the volcanic peak, but they had also attempted to abduct me without injury to my body or feelings. I had made them my foes by allying myself offensively and defensively with the Reds, but they might not be savage to one who had not so given them cause. Undoubtedly, I reasoned, they knew man and what he is and had recognised me at once. They had desired also to possess me, an inclination, I reasoned, which had resulted from association with this other, mysterious man.
What manner of person was it they held as prisoner in their camp? How long had they held him captive? To this latter question I mentally answered that they had kept him several months at the least, since I had been a considerable time with the Reds, myself, and they had apparently become acquainted with my species before my arrival in the country. Then about his capacity as a man, my thought ran quickly to the conclusion that he must be weak or at least a man of no inventiveness and of no particular inward resources. I arrived at this from two sources of argument. First, he had obviously done nothing to arm his fellows, even with primitive spears, or bows and arrows, to say nothing of never having headed their hunting or fighting expeditions; and, second, he had done nothing to escape, although he must have known that he was living on the very edge of that great outflowing river, which should suggest to his mind the sea beyond, as it had done to me.
Almost without considering anything, my first conclusion had been that I must meet this partner-in-exile, enlist his services and make him my comrade in escaping. Indeed I had been conscious of a great elation of spirits, to think of such an encouraging piece of good fortune. Now, however, when I was sure that he was neither bold, nor alert, nor superior to circumstances, I doubted the wisdom of burdening myself with such a companion, in the midst of my accumulated adversities. This last selfish thought was hardly complete, however, before I banished it with scorn, as utterly unworthy of any man in my position.
Perhaps the poor fellow had been shipwrecked, under conditions that shattered his nerves; perhaps he was crippled, or otherwise disabled; perhaps he had undergone severe illness; he might even have been an invalid when captured; and it was always possible that the Blacks kept him bound or so closely attended that action was rendered impossible. I recalled then that his voice had not sounded strong. His recitation of verses and conning over of words, I could understand precisely, for I had done the same myself on many occasions. Whatever it was that made him helpless, he was a fellow-being and certainly in more or less distress. I felt my heart expanding toward him—my unknown partner! I would see him, help him and take him with me—or die at his side, fighting like a devil!
My plans, which had been nearly complete for my own escape, became immediately most uncertain and scattered. It was not a matter now merely of stocking the boat, securing my weapons and then proceeding down the outflowing river, but of bearding the Blacks in their stronghold, seeing this man and getting him away. Then would come the running of the gauntlet past their camp on the river. The first proposition, that of entering this village of the hostile Links and interviewing my “partner,” loomed up, unsolved, for careful consideration. That the fellows were keenly on the lookout, I had demonstrated fully; they had seen me and sounded the alarm in a style truly masterful if not admirable. That they thirsted somewhat for my unwilling gore, I had precious small reason to doubt. If I got away with their captive and the demons discovered who it was that engineered the feat, there would be a warm jungle-region all about the lake.
How much could I count on the man I meant to assist? Not a great deal, I feared, for he was probably incapacitated in some important manner. However, he had doubtless superintended the hammering down of those stakes I had seen in the river, which evidently meant some sort of fishing operations, so that perhaps, after all, he was more inventive than I had previously supposed. All the way up the lake, I racked my brain for a suitable plan for invading the enemy’s camp. There were wild ideas in plenty, but no one of these was practical or even worthy of a moment’s consideration.
I gave up thinking, when at last the boat was secured on the beach, knowing how far away my thoughts would be driven by the welcome of the Links. All through my dinner, however, even with little Tike in my arms and Fatty languishing about my feet, I was lost in pondering over the doings of the day. That night, although I was weary, I tossed and rolled uneasily, catching but snatches of sleep between the spells of being vividly awake over my new discoveries and their attendant problems. Time after time I awoke with a start, thinking I had solved the difficulty, only to realise that my brain was indulging in the most fantastic of workings. My whole being was dominated and occupied by this scheme of uniting with that human prisoner on the river.
Sometime in the earliest hours of morning I sat up abruptly, having been tortured by a sort of nightmare in which there was an inextricable tangle of Links, alligators and bears. As before, this was intimately connected with the man whom I intended to rescue from the Blacks, but this time I got an idea out of the chaos and it fairly made me twitch, so galvanically did it grip my whole nervous system.
I would visit the hostile camp in safety, because I would go as a bear.
A bear—yes, a sacred black bear! Those superstitious creatures should worship my tracks and make themselves fools over my visit, while I spied upon them, planned against them and robbed them of their captive! I should be more than safe, more than free to come and go as I liked, more respected than the general of the world’s greatest army.
Before attempting to get my plans in operation, I must kill a bear, skin him and cure the hide. This preliminary business presented no inconsiderable sum of difficulties, as I was thoroughly aware. “First find your bear,” said the funny fellow in my brain. This part I thought I could manage, for I had seen a bear in the neighbourhood of the place where the one had appeared that morning after my fight with the alligator. I thought him the same identical animal, which might therefore abide in or about that quarter. But having secured my bruin’s pelt, there remained the task of curing it,—a work which I must conduct alone and away from camp, inasmuch as the Links would be horrified to know that I had committed the deed on so sacred a beast.
There was no more sleep for me after thinking of this. At the first suggestion of dawn I crept out, silently, avoided old Fatty, who was curled down beside my door, and glided noiselessly down the hill, armed with a club, my knife, bow and quiver of arrows. When I arrived at the edge of the lake I went a little into the forest and dug some fresh saltpetre. With this substance I intended to preserve the skin, for not only are its properties well suited to the business, but I was denied the use of our spring of brine by the presence of my bear-adoring friends.
With my cargo of stuff thrown down in the end of the boat, I pushed away from the bank and rowed slowly off toward a point around which I meant to be concealed by the time the Links would begin to stir. The dawn was breaking as I neared my destination, but I waited for full day-break before attempting to go ashore. When at length the boat ran up on the beach I was a mile from the swampy region in which the alligators had proved themselves so numerous and hungry. A small clearing afforded an adequate retreat, where I felt that I could operate without interruption or likelihood of being observed.
With the club and quiver on my back, and the bow in hand, I forced my way through a stubborn growth, coming presently upon the trail of some jungle creature which had apparently broken this path for the purpose of drinking at the lake. I had gone no more than several strides in this beaten track when I nearly stepped upon a hooded snake. Though I jumped back quickly and made ready with speed to hit the reptile with my club, it glided away before I could fetch it a blow, escaping into a maze where I own I dared not follow. Willing enough to let the creature alone, if it would do the same by me, I went on my way. Then occurred the thought, if only I could have killed it and poisoned my arrows, how much better I should be armed for the bear.
Going back I thumped about for several minutes, looking for the venomous serpent, yet dreading to see it. There was little danger of seeing that particular snake again, so I once more resumed my journey. Having the venom thought in mind, I decided to search for a serpent deliberately, for the sake of its poison.
Snake hunting is not in my line. I kept an eye open and peered about in likely places but the reptiles I saw were not the venomous kind and they were often of the constricting variety, so that they and I had nothing in common. I passed them by frequently, in haste to be about my business. The whole morning was passed in this half-hearted search for venom. In the early afternoon, having worked through a wide belt of trees, I issued forth in the largest clearing I had seen since leaving the boat. It was hardly more than fifty feet wide by one hundred long, slightly swampish under foot and overrun with vines, gigantic flowering plants and the rankest of grass.
At the edge of this place I had the luck to see the tail end of what I thought to be a venomous snake. The reptile was nearly safe from harm beneath a mass of interlocking creepers, yet I tried to get at him and became so absorbed while poking about the brush that I clean forgot my more important quest. In the midst of this dallying about, I left my position to run around to the further side of the tangle, and found myself confronted by the creature of all creatures which I regarded as particularly mine—a bear as black as soot.
This animal was nosing about the trunk of a tree. He was only five or six long strides away, paying no tribute of attention whatsoever to me or my prowess. That he had seen me and heard me I could not possibly doubt. I knew at once that the veneration in which he was held by the Links grew out of this remarkable inoffensiveness and the grave, knowing air with which the creature kept about its own concerns. I longed for a well-poisoned arrow, but the time being inopportune for regrets, I silently fitted my choicest shaft on the bow-string and stepped aside for a better chance to shoot.
The bear rose partially up on its haunches, to investigate the tree, presenting an open front, with a bit of white fur at the throat. With this white for a target, I raised my weapon and drew the arrow to the head. It leaped across the meagre distance like a flash of light and quivered a second, buried deep in that snowy fur, which was dyed with red before the creature could drop to a normal position on its feet.
I expected to hear a roar of rage, and then to be attacked forthwith by the infuriated animal, but instead the bear made a sound almost human in its vivid expression of agony. It staggered slightly and brushing at the shaft with its paw, started away toward a thicket. Not to be cheated of my pelt, I threw down the bow and dashed after the creature, club in hand.
In a second or two I was almost on his back. He half turned about—and met the descending club with his head. Simply moaning, this singular animal shuddered down in its tracks, breathed heavily a moment and was dead.
If I hunt till I kill a thousand creatures I shall never feel so guilty of murder as I did to see this harmless bear lying motionless there in the jungle. If only it had fought me, threatened my life, or shown itself malignant, I could have done the deed cheerfully. If only the creature had growled, or even torn up the grass, I should have felt a bit of relief; but to see it die as I knew it had lived, unaggressive, good-natured and retiring—this made me feel that I was the brute and the wanton destroyer of life. Even dead, the animal accused me of lust for blood.
“No,” I finally said to the body, aloud, “I would never have done this merely for fun. I needed your skin,—hang it! there’s a human life at stake and you ought to be glad!”
Fortunately I was easily consoled. I came to my senses in a business-like manner. The skinning did much to remove the last vestige of my sentimentality, for it was a tough, hot job. My knife was none too sharp, despite its recent honing on a rock, and the bear was heavy to turn. When at last I had the hide removed, with the feet and head left on, I rolled the whole mass up and got it on my shoulder. It was heavy and wet; I felt the need of haste, and therefore with my weapons duly gathered together and so disposed as to cause me the least possible inconvenience, I strode away.
The sun was ready to disappear by the time I reached the boat. Embarking as soon as I had cut a large quantity of leaves, I rowed until I was some distance out on the lake before completing my day’s work. This labour consisted of skinning the head of my bear and then of wetting the whole hide thoroughly. With a generous hand I spread the saltpetre upon the fleshy side, after which I rolled the skin up in a bundle and stowed it away in the stern, where I covered it over thickly with the leaves, in order that my fellows might not see the beloved black fur.
Knowing the beach would be deserted as soon as darkness began to descend, I pulled homeward leisurely, reaching the landing after the stars had begun to twinkle. There I got a lot of clay and placed it on top of the leaves which covered the pelt. This I knew would serve the double purpose of hiding my treasure from sharp, inquisitive eyes, and of keeping the moisture in the skin till the saltpetre could permeate the whole mass and convert the perishable and evil-smelling hide into leather. In order further to insure the skin against anything which might be tempted to meddle, I tied a big rock to my painter and dropping it overboard anchored the boat about forty feet from the shore. After this I swam and waded to the bank.
As I had left in the morning before any of the Links were awake, I thoroughly expected a flattering demonstration on my return to the top of the hill. I was totally unprepared, however, to hear the wildest imaginable beating of our drum, the moment I shouted to let them know I had come. And when I came through the gate and loomed up in the glow of the fire, there was more than enthusiasm—there was madness rife in the tribe.
The fellows were nervous, wild-eyed, starting at every sound, chattering crazily in their few poor monosyllables, and they showed a readiness to bury me in a heap of their prostrate bodies, so eager was their supplication for something which they much desired. Males, females and children had evidently been huddled together in a trembling mass, at my arrival, but now the whole population was about me, mad to tell me news of some calamity, I thought, but rendered wholly unintelligible by their haste and fear. I pushed them away vigorously, convinced that something more than merely my unaccountable absence and safe return had wrought this excitement.
“Fatty,” I demanded of my half-blubbering slave, “what’s the matter? Stand still and tell me like a man. What’s eating all these idiots? What has happened?”
He made an effort that was truly heroic.
“Peegs,” he said. “Gee wizz!”
The rascal knew I never exclaimed “Gee whizz!” till something extraordinary occurred. So poignant did the silly words become in this connection that I jumped at what he meant to convey at a single mental bound.
He meant that we were again invaded. The black Links had marched upon the village in force. I was almost carried to the further side of our wall, from which place I could see the campfires of the enemy, fitfully gleaming through the trees, below. The creatures were intrenched at the edge of the jungle, just at the base of our hill. But they had not yet attacked our position, that was evident. I was amazed at this and also at the fact that they dared to remain all night so near the haunts of the savage prowlers.
I worked for an hour endeavouring to calm my fellows sufficiently to get some sort of a “statement” of what had really occurred. The words I knew of their language and the little they tried to comprehend of mine served only to aggravate our confusion. By means of signs and various pantomimes I was able to make some guesses. The most important of these was that the foe had come there late in the afternoon, whereupon my friends had retreated inside the walls and waited, armed with their clubs, while Fatty made a hideous noise on the drum.
Attributing little virtue to the power of our musical instrument, and groping about for the reason why the invaders had not attacked the camp, I concluded that something in the way of a deeply laid “plot” was being formulated by the Blacks, who were perhaps intent upon our total destruction, in payment for all the defeats inflicted upon them by us in the past. Whether only a portion of their force had come up, or whether they reckoned on our disinclination to leave our stronghold and charge upon them and so intended to surround and starve us out, was a matter which time alone could determine. I thought of Grin, however, and wondered if the wretch were with them. Also I mentally nodded my recognition of the fact that my “visit” to their camp had been largely instrumental in bringing about this war-like advance. I thought it likely that the creatures concluded I had been spying upon them, with a possible attack for my object, and that then they had determined to be the first to strike. Doubtless, I meditated, they had long contemplated this war of retaliation, and my presence in their river had precipitated matters, which had been delayed for various reasons of state.
Inasmuch as their reasons and plans could never be known by any man, I gave up pondering about them and devoted my thoughts to planning my own campaign. On the whole I was not exceedingly sorry to have a chance to try my bamboo bombs. I entertained no doubt of the dire effect which these would produce on our foe. For that night, at least, we were safe from attack; no Link would dare proceed a score of yards from his fire in the darkness. If they crept up the hill and surprised us in the morning, while we were still in bed—then so much the worse for us, for being so extremely luxurious and confident in the noise of our drum.
I signified my desire for something to eat and then devoured a hearty meal, a proceeding which surprised and calmed the Links no little. They had been too much alarmed before to do anything but huddle together, like so many animals in a corner, ready to fight if pressed another inch, but more likely to be furious and savage through fear than through any sort of courage. They were not wholly cowardly, but they were mortally afraid of the Blacks (who came back so persistently for more punishment), especially while here on our isolated hill, with neither cave nor near-by jungle into which to run. They were awed by this implacable foe, and having depended on me to defeat the Black army, had become less confident of their own powers than they were when I first came into the tribe. However, they had always evinced the greatest readiness to attack a force smaller than their own, which fact, coupled with their present behaviour, was now as good as an accurate report to convince me that the fellows were sure the number of Blacks below was much in excess of our own.
Gratified to find that our supply of arrows had not been wasted again in my absence—an indication of sense in my fellows which I attribute to the wholesome dread they had of the powder magazine, in which the weapons were stored—I laid out the shafts, with the bows, and otherwise exhibited an assuring alertness and desire to be prepared. The Links did me the honour of picking up a bit of courage, under my influence, making me feel a half-affectionate regard and sympathy for the poor child-like creatures, for it was plain that they strove hard and constantly against their mental limitations. They wished to understand, to enlarge the scope of their brains, to be like men.
I felt a certain pride in knowing that my sentries, when I set the watch and bade the others go to bed, would remain awake and alive to their own responsible position; I felt like something of a general, to see my agitated fellows calmed down and proceeding to rest in an ordinary manner. If I could only hold them together, organised as warriors, shooting steadily in the face of a charge, I knew we could repel those Blacks much more easily than ever before and inflict upon them such a loss that they might be completely quelled for years to come.
Every personal plan had been driven out of my head by this unexpected advent of “war.” I thought of nothing but what might occur in the morning and what would be our most effective means of conducting the hill-top part of the coming engagement. I was undecided, particularly about the use to which I had best put the bombs, for I realised that if I attempted to throw them, I might inflict half the injury on ourselves, not to mention the panic sure to be produced within our walls. Under the influence of such a feeling, my fellows might commit the gravest indiscretions.
Dismissing the whole affair from my weary brain at last, I retired, surrounded by my weapons, and was deep in dreamless sleep in a moment.
When I suddenly sat erect, with a feeling that the battle was on and I too late to assume my part, it took me a second to realise what had aroused me from sleep. It was only little Tike, who had come to my side in the semi-light of dawn and laid his tiny hand upon my face.
Not one of all the babies I have known in my life ever made a sweeter sound of crooning than did my Little Man that morning, as I held him snugly cuddled in my arm. It seemed to me the wee chap told how he had searched my deserted shelter all the day before, and all the other days, since I had been away so much; it seemed as if he forgave me and forgot this neglect and made himself a promise that I would not go away and leave him any more. The light increased, chasing the shadows away from his thin, little face, but under his wistful eyes were shadows far too deep to be dispelled by any light of earth. I noted this and observed that his lip was inclined to tremble; his eye-lids seemed to be heavy as lead. What a singular little face it was—such a homely, tiny, monkey face, with phases of child-humanism coming and going across its lineaments.
“Man,” he said, “man,” and he patted my hand and gave a little shiver of joy.
I carried him out with me when I went to investigate the situation. Below me, where I had seen the fires the night before, there was nothing visible of any of the foe. I noted a thin wisp of smoke, curling lazily upward above the lowest trees, and I presently detected the shaking of a brush, denoting the presence of one of the black fellows, who was spying upon us, unobserved. How I longed for a good rifle to rest on top of our wall with its muzzle aimed down there at the cover of the demons!
My fellows stirred about with commendable promptness, sixty of them armed with the bows, all of them eagerly watching to see what I intended to do. They commanded a certain thrill of admiration, for they were impressively muscular, alert and active. I could almost fancy them soldiers, some day, disciplined, efficient and worthy of trust.
As the sun began to warm the earth, the invaders below commenced to move about more freely. Although they brandished their clubs toward us and seemed to swarm all through that portion of the jungle, there was no indication that the creatures intended to make an immediate attack. I was soon convinced that they were there in great numbers. What their plan would be I found myself unable to surmise, but it was plain the fellows were being held in check for some extraordinary measure. I had been obliged to admit before that these Blacks exhibited certain marks of superiority over my Reds, in points of aggressiveness and stratagem, but this game of waiting and deliberate planning surpassed anything they had performed since I first made their honoured acquaintance.
As far as anything could be deduced from the position now occupied by the besiegers, I concluded they meant to surge up the slope, at this point of advantage, where the grade was easy and unobstructed. I own I should have felt relieved had the savages commenced the war at once. There was something ominous about this deliberation which I in nowise relished. While I was attempting to put myself in their place, for the purpose of thinking what I would do, knowing what they did of the reception they were likely to meet upon storming the summit, I heard distant yelling in the jungle. This drew nearer, after which the sounds receded again in the distance.
What might this incident portend? I inquired of myself, but I could think of no satisfactory answer. In our larder we had a limited supply of fruit and no meat fit to cook. I divided everything as equitably as possible, but none of us had enough for a hearty breakfast. Old Fatty, who observed me putting aside a portion of my share, put away the whole of his, like a faithful dog who refuses to eat while his master is in any way afflicted.
During our meal, and while I was concerning myself with the question of how we should manage to supply the camp with more provisions, I noted a distant tumble of mist, arising from the lowlands, like a cloud of smoke from heavy artillery. This grew and spread with great rapidity. I comprehended at once that a fog would soon envelope all the world. At first I thought this solved the problem of the Blacks’ new game of war. I believed they had waited for this to occur, with a knowledge that it came reliably often, intending to swoop upon us under its cover and strike us down before we could realise the meaning of the charge. A moment later, however, I knew they would never dare attack in even semi-darkness. The fog was not a thing which a Link would think of employing.
Suddenly I had an idea that fog was exactly a thing of which man would take advantage. I would utilise this one to the fullest extent. Watching its progress now in excitement, for fear it might be too local to include our hill, I was aware of a repetition of the yelling in chorus, which I had noted before, out in the forest. I could think of no reason why a portion of the besieging army should thus be off in the jungle, making such a racket, but the fellows about me began to manifest the greatest alarm. The sounds again drew nearer and nearer; the fog rolled in, apparently on the heels of this party in the jungle. It seemed almost like a race between the mist and this battalion of the invading force.
I heard the yelling creatures swerve off to the right. Their very position was revealed by the rising of a large flock of parrots, all of which made a considerable noise as they flashed brilliantly in the sunlight a moment and swept down again, a hundred yards from where they rose. Just as I began to have an indefinite anxiety about the game being played below us, the fog enveloped that portion of the jungle where the foe were conducting their mysterious operations. I fancied a wail of disappointment finished their chorus of cries, after which the fog seemed to blot out all sound as well as all the panorama below our position.
Silently the great pall spread and travelled, till I saw it climbing the slope between ourselves and the camp of the Blacks.
“Now we’ll fix ’em,” I cried to my warriors. “They have played their game and now we’ll play the joker.”
Going to the magazine I hurriedly uncovered all my bombs and took out all but the smallest three, together with a quantity of fuse. This latter had become so dry that I felt the greatest confidence in the dryness of all the powder. Bidding my most intelligent and obedient fellows take these up with care, I lifted the two largest myself and led the way through the gate and started down and around the hill, toward the entrenchment of the Blacks.
At once my fighters halted, afraid of the fog and more afraid of the enemy in waiting. I stormed and coaxed and threatened before I could get them to follow, but Fatty came and then another, after which the others felt ashamed to remain behind. Thus I got the small force a little more than half way down the slope, where I directed them to deposit the bombs on the ground and to dig a long, narrow trench across the path up which I believed the Blacks intended to come when at last they made their assault upon the summit.
In the bottom of this ditch, which was made two feet deep in a time amazingly brief, I arranged my bombs, about a foot apart, hurriedly attaching a fuse to each, making the matches as nearly of a length as possible. The mines extended for so considerable a distance that I determined to lay two series of main fuses. This I did by bringing together the matches of all the bombs on the right, in one bunch, and all on the left in another. At these junctions I cut each fuse off to insure freshness and to guarantee ignition of the powder, after which I weighted them down with rocks, placed the end of the main fuse in contact with them and sprinkled powder plentifully about to unite them all in one train. A similar arrangement being completed for the second group, I had the whole mine covered carefully, with rocks and earth, when I trailed my main matches up the hill, had them weighted down and brought the ends together several rods below our wall.
The Links were willing enough to return inside our gate. I had them remove a few of the stones from the wall at a point just opposite my fuses, and then we conveyed some embers from the fire with which to kindle a special blaze wherefrom I intended to snatch a lighted brand when the moment should arrive for touching off the match.
All being in readiness I should have been gratified to see the fog roll away and the enemy starting up the hill in a solid phalanx. We stood on guard as an extra precaution, in case the Blacks should summon a courage sufficient to attack us under cover of the mist, but the world was silent and the objects about us were ghostly in the vaporous shrouds. The hours wore on and the fog continued thick and warm. We had all been hungry before the mist arose; we were now growing restless and desperate to satisfy our cravings.
To add to my own discomforts I began to worry about the fuse absorbing dampness. Should it be ruined by the fog the mines would be useless. What might happen then was beyond conjecture, for we should have no large bombs to use, and the small ones left in the magazine could not be provided with fuse. In the midst of my troubles, little Tike came stumbling against my leg. He fell down at my feet, but was up at once and gazing in my face with his odd little smile playing lightly on his lips. I took him on my arm and going to my shelter gave him all he would take of the fruits. Fatty, on seeing this, fetched his hidden store and rolled about in ecstasy when he had placed it before me. I ate a piece of his hoarded fruit to please the old fellow, after which I endeavoured, vainly, to get him to eat what remained.
He was ravenously hungry, so much so that he could not keep his eyes from the tempting mangoes and papaw, nor keep his tongue from lapping at his chops, yet he still refused to eat when I signified that I should take no more. He concealed the hoard again, returning to his place with his stomach empty.
Only once, since my advent among the Links, had a fog remained all day to obscure the hills and forest, but this one threatened to perform a similar feat. From time to time it lifted for a moment from a local area, only to descend again more quickly than before. I began to believe that perhaps it might be possible for a party of us to deploy on a foraging tour and visit the grove of fruit-bearing trees. Unfortunately the Blacks had made their camp in the most accessible “orchard,” which gave them a great advantage. However, I knew of several cocoanut palms, a little removed from the enemy’s position, which I thought I could find, even in the dark. I decided to make an attempt to reach this grove.
It was well along in the afternoon by this, and the fog still hung heavily on the country. As before, I had considerable trouble in getting a force of fellows to back me in the enterprise. But the hungriest became the bravest and therefore with ten stout fellows, all armed, I left the wall behind and went cautiously down the hill.
Very soon I found that everything appeared so altered in the mist that piloting my party was not at all an easy matter. I disliked exceedingly the prospect of finding myself in the enemy’s lines, but having started, I was too proud, or too stubborn, to do such a sensible thing as retreat and own myself baffled. We therefore proceeded uncertainly along, near the edge of the trees, getting deeper and deeper, it seemed, into the maze of fog and unfamiliar objects. The mist down here was much more dense than that which floated about the camp above.
As we prowled stealthily ahead, looking aloft at the shadowy trees, the curtain of vapour was rended about us, abruptly, leaving us bare—as it were—and completely revealed. On the second a cry of alarm broke from a Black, not fifteen yards away, and a chorus of yells made answer, as a score of the demons rushed out from the cover of trees, to give us battle.
My nimble fellows vanished like shadows, bounding swiftly up the slope and into the kindly bank of fog, before the Blacks could so much as count their heels. I also started to dash away toward the camp, but tripped over a rolling stone and fell down heavily, my ankle sprained and pain shooting all through my leg and body. Scrambling on hands and knees in desperate haste, I made toward the fog, conscious that three or four of the Blacks were dashing toward me. I breathed a great sigh of relief and thankfulness to see the mist close in upon the place.
Turning instantly, when this veiling pall was about me, I moved at the top of my speed toward the trees and undergrowth of vines. I heard the cry of triumph which burst from the lips of the creatures who thoroughly expected to leap upon me, and I heard even the quick, light tread of their feet as they ran, but the turn had deceived them and diving into the tangle of leaves and creepers, pushing my bow and dragging my aching foot, I lay at full length, to pant, for a brief time, when I crawled laboriously off in the direction which I believed to be opposite the camp of the foe.
My pursuers raced about at random on the slope, chattering in disgust and amazement, but they were soon confused by the fog. They searched about for several minutes, one of them coming almost upon me, as I lay beneath the vines, but at last all returned to their savage companions. I could now guess the direction of the camp they had formed by the sounds they made in retiring. This direction seemed entirely contrary to what I had mentally determined to be right. However, I crawled away from the vicinity which I now knew bordered on their position, and turned to go toward the hill.
Doubtless the pain in my ankle distracted my attention, but at any rate when I had crept a distance which I thought should have been sufficient to place me out of the forest and on the slope, there was no hill visible and the jungle seemed equally deep on every side. Thinking I had probably made a mistake of a point or more, by my mental compass, I started off again, in a slightly different direction.
This soon became hopeless. I realised that the fog had confused me a trifle, but it seemed too absurd that I should not find the clearing and then be able to go to the top of the hill. In fifteen minutes I had become so muddled that I dared not move another yard. It appears ridiculous, but I was lost.
Jungle, I had found before this, was quite sufficiently difficult to traverse toward a given point in the brightest light, but enveloped in a fog it became the most bewildering and maddening maze. To make matters worse, the day was nearly spent, my ankle pained me exceedingly and my dread of snakes became a factor which contributed much to my nervous excitement. I leaned against a tree, finally, convinced of the inexpedience of blundering about in a hit-or-miss effort to rectify my first mistake. If I got any deeper in the tangle, I thought, I might not be able to find myself, even by the full light of day.
To stand there in that inhabited place of horrors, knowing that the sun was departing in its race toward the western horizon, feeling anxious and uncourageous, aching from my foot to my thigh, and angry with myself for being such a fool,—this was about as comfortless a thing as I had ever undergone. I was sure the fog would lift from the hill while it still surrounded me; I was certain the Blacks would swarm up the slope, storm the place, murder half my Links and drive the others pell-mell to the woods; and I was not at all convinced that I should ever issue forth from that jungle alive.
I listened, expectantly, but not a sound could I catch, either of prowling brutes, nor of attack on our village; the silence was particularly oppressive. Darker and darker grew the forest. I knew at last the sun had set on an ocean of fog. Perhaps the attack had been rendered impossible, for that day at least, but wherein my condition was bettered by this descent of night was more than I could discover. My thoughts were hardly more cheerful when I pictured the breaking of dawn, the hill-top clear and distinct in the light, and the blood-hungry enemy sweeping the summit of every vestige of our work and genius.