Chapter Twenty.A Warlike Expedition and a Victory.It was excessively dark that night when we set forth on our expedition.The scout from whom we had already ascertained so much about the intended movements of the enemy also told us that they meant to set out at a little before midnight and march on the village by a certain route. Indeed, it was very unlikely that they would approach by any other, as the jungle elsewhere was so thick as to render marching, especially at night, very difficult.Jack therefore resolved to place the greater proportion of his troops in ambush at the mouth of a small gully or dell a few miles from the enemy’s camp, where they were almost certain to pass. But with a degree of caution that I thought highly creditable in so young and inexperienced a general, he sent out a considerable number of the most trustworthy men in advance, with instructions to proceed with the stealth of leopards, and to bring back instant information of any change of route on the part of the foe.The troops placed in ambush at the dell above referred to were Peterkin’s hundred musketeers, supported by Jack’s spear and bow men. I was ordered to advance by a circuitous route on the camp itself with my fifty musketeers, followed by my small company of spearmen. My instructions were, to conceal my men as near to the camp as possible, and there await the first discharge of firearms from the dell, when I was to rise, advance upon the camp, utter a terrific shout when within fifty yards, rush forward to within twenty-five yards, halt, pour in one withering volley of blank cartridge, and charge without giving my men time to load.Of course I could not speak to my men; but this was a matter of little consequence, as they were now well acquainted with our three words of command, “Forward,” “Halt,” and “Fire,” and fully understood that they must under all circumstances follow their leader. I knew well enough that there must be no little danger in this arrangement, because the leader would necessarily be always in front of the muzzles of the loaded guns. But there was no help for it, so I resolved to act upon my usual principle—namely, that when a thing is inevitable, the best thing to do is to treat it as being unavoidable.Having conducted my men stealthily and successfully to the vicinity of the enemy’s camp, though with some difficulty, owing to the almost impenetrable nature of the jungle through which we had to pass in making the détour necessary to avoid falling in with the attacking force, we proceeded to advance to within as short a distance of it as possible without running the risk of being discovered. This was not difficult, for the men left to guard the camp, supposing, no doubt, that their presence in that part of the country was not suspected, had taken no precautions in the way of placing sentries; so we quickly arrived at the foot of a small mound about sixty yards or so from the encampment. At the foot of this mound I caused my men to lie down, giving them to understand, by signs, that they were on no account to move until I should return. Then I crept alone to the brow of the mound, and obtained a clear view of the camp.The men who should have guarded it were, I found, busily employed in cooking their supper. There were, perhaps, upwards of a hundred of them. To my great satisfaction, I observed the captives sitting near to the fire; and although at so considerable a distance from them, I felt certain that I recognised the figures of Mbango and Okandaga. Hastening back to my men, I endeavoured to give them as much information as possible by means of signs, and then lay down beside them to await the signal from Jack’s party.Although the attack of both our parties was to be simultaneous, the first shot was to be fired by our troops in the dell. I will therefore describe their part of the engagement first. Jack described it to me minutely after all was over.On reaching the dell Jack disposed his forces so as to command the only approach to it. The hundred musketeers he placed in a double row directly across the deepest and darkest part. The spearmen he divided into two bodies, which he posted on the flanks of the musketeers among the bushes. He then showed the rear rank of the latter how to point their pieces over the shoulders of the men in the front rank at a given signal, but carefully reiterated the order not to touch a trigger until the word “Fire” should be given.“Now, Peterkin,” said Jack, when these dispositions had been made, “it is time for you to get ready. Makarooroo and I can manage these fellows, so you have my permission to go and play your own independent part. Only let me warn you to remember your last exploit in this way, and see that you don’t do yourself a damage.”“Thanks, noble general, for the permission,” answered Peterkin, “of which I shall avail myself. In reference to your advice, I may remark that it is exceedingly valuable—so much so, indeed, that I would advise you not to part with it until asked for.”With that Peterkin ran into the jungle, and was soon lost to view.On gaining a sufficient distance from the men, he took off the greater part of his clothes, and wound round his person several pieces of light-coloured cotton that he chanced to have with him, and some pieces of old newspaper. Then he decked his head with leaves and ragged branches, as he had done before in the haunted cave, making himself, in short, as wild and fantastic a looking creature as possible—the only difference between his getting-up on this and the former occasion being that he was white instead of black. For he wisely judged that a white demon must naturally appear infinitely more appalling and horrible to a negro than one of his own colour.The two cones of moistened powder, however, which he had prepared for this occasion, were very much larger than the former, and had been fitted into two wooden handles, or cups, for safety. With these in his hands, he crept to the top of a steep, sloping mound or hill near the entrance to the dell, and considerably in advance of the troops. Here he sat down to await the approach of the enemy.There is something very eerie and awe-inspiring in a solitary night-watch, especially if it be kept in a wild, lonesome place. Peterkin afterwards told me that, while sitting that night on the top of the mound, looking out upon a plain, over which the enemy were expected to approach, on the one hand, and down into the dark dell where our troops were posted, on the other hand, his heart more than once misgave him; and he could not help asking himself the questions, “What if our plans miscarry? What if our united volley and cheer, and my demoniac display, should fail to intimidate the negroes?” Such questions he did not like to dwell upon, for he knew that in the event of failure a regular pitched battle would be fought, and much blood would certainly flow.While indulging in such thoughts, he observed a dark form glide past the foot of the mound on which he lay, and vanish in the obscurity of the dell, which was so surrounded by crags and rocky places covered with underwood that no light could penetrate into it. At first he was startled, and thought of giving the alarm to his comrades; but on second thoughts he concluded the person must have been one of his own scouts returned with news; at all events, he felt that one man could do no harm worth speaking of to so large a party.Presently he observed a large band of men coming over the plain towards the entrance of the dell. These, he felt assured, must be the enemy; and he was right. They came on in a large, compact body, and were well-armed; yet, from the quick and unguarded manner of their approach, he could perceive that they suspected no ambush.They entered the dell in a confused though solid and silent body; and Peterkin could observe, by the dim light, that they were led by one man, who walked in advance, whom he rightly judged to be the Portuguese slave-dealer.The time for action had now come. He examined the points of his powder-cones, to ascertain that they were dry, then held a match in readiness, and listened intently to the footsteps of the foe.I have already explained that Jack had drawn his musketeers across the dell, and placed the spearmen in the jungle on both flanks. They were arranged in such a way as to form three sides of a square, into which the unsuspecting enemy now marched. Jack allowed them to approach to within thirty paces of his musketeers, and then gave, in a loud, deep, sonorous tone, the word—“Hip! hip! hip!”The compound cheer and yell that instantly followed the last hip was so tremendous, coming, as it did, from all sides except the rear, that the enemy were absolutely paralysed. They stood rooted to the earth, as motionless as if they had been transformed into stone.Jack raised his hand, in which he held a bunch of white grass that could be distinctly seen in the dark.Every muzzle was pointed on the instant, but not a sound was heard save the click of a hundred locks.The sound was familiar to the enemy, although never before heard at one moment in such numbers. They started; but before a step could be taken, the word “Fire” was given.Instantly a sheet of flame swept across the entire dell, and the united crash of a hundred guns seemed to rend the very earth. The surrounding cliffs reverberated and multiplied the horrid din, while, led by Jack, cheer followed cheer, or rather howls and yells filled the air, and kept awake the echoes of the place.The enemy turned and fled, and the shrieks to which they gave utterance as they ran betokened the extremity of their terror. It wanted but one touch to complete their consternation, and that touch was given when Peterkin, lighting his powder-cones, showed himself on the mound, dancing in a blaze of fire, and shrieking furiously as the horrified tide of men swept by.In the midst of his wild orgies, Peterkin acted an impromptu and unintentional part by tripping over the brow of the hill, and rolling down the steep declivity like a fire-wheel into the very midst of the flying crew. Jumping hastily up, he charged through the ranks of the foe, flung the two hissing cones high into the air, and darting into the jungle, hid himself effectually from view.Meanwhile Jack still held the bunch of white straw aloft. Every eye was fixed on it, but not a man moved, because it remained stationary. This absence of pursuit in the midst of such appalling sights and sounds must, undoubtedly, have added to the mystery and therefore to the terrors of the scene.Suddenly the white bunch was seen to dart forward. Jack, who now considered the enemy almost beyond the chance of being overtaken, gave the word, “Forward!” in the voice of a Stentor, following it up with “Hip, hip, hurrah!” and the whole host, musketeers and spearmen in a mingled mass, rushed yelling out upon the plain, and gave chase to the foe.“Not so badly done,” said Jack, with a quiet laugh, as he laid his hand on Peterkin’s shoulder.“Why, Jack, how did you find me out?”“Easily enough, when it is considered that I saw you go in. The flame of your wild-fire indicated your movements pretty plainly to me, although terror and amazement no doubt blinded the eyes of every one else. Even Mak’s teeth began to chatter when he saw you perform that singular descent of the hill, and no wonder. I hope no bones have been broken?”“No; all right as far as that goes,” replied Peterkin within a laugh; “but I’ve lost a good deal of skin. However, it’ll grow again. I’m glad it’s no worse. But I say, Jack, do you think our fellows won’t overtake these rascals?”“No fear of that. I took care to give them a good start, and if there be any truth in the generally received idea that terror lends wings, I’m pretty sure that each man in the enemy’s ranks must have obtained the loan of several pairs to-night. But have you heard the sound of Ralph’s guns?”“No; the din here was enough to drown anything so distant.”“Well, we must away to him as fast as we can. I expect that poor Mak is off before us.”“But you’ll wait until I put on my clothes?” said Peterkin, hasting back towards the place where he had undressed.“Certainly, lad; only look alive.”Soon afterwards they left the place together.While this was going on at the dell, I, on hearing the first shot, gave the word “Forward!” in a low tone. My men instantly rose and followed me, and I could not, even at that anxious moment, help admiring the serpent-like facility with which they glided from bush to bush, without the slightest noise. We descended a hill, crossed a small brook, and approached to within thirty yards of the camp without being discovered.Suddenly I leaped on the top of a hillock, and shouted at the utmost pitch of my voice the single word “Halt!”On hearing it all the men in the camp sprang to their arms, and stood gazing round them with looks of consternation.My next word was, “Fire!”A firm, tremendous crash burst from among the bushes, and my single person, enveloped in smoke and flame, was, I believe, the only object visible to those in the camp.“Hip, hip, hip, hurrah! forward!” I shouted; and with a ferocious yell we poured like a whirlwind upon the foe.The same result that had occurred at the dell took place here. The enemy never awaited our charge. They fled instantly, and so great was their terror that they actually threw down their arms, in order to facilitate their flight.On gaining the camp, however, I found, to my sorrow, that we had done the thing only too vigorously; for we had not only put the enemy to flight, but we had also frightened away those whom we had come to deliver!At this point in the engagement I came to learn how incompetent I was to command men in cases of emergency, for here my presence of mind utterly forsook me. In my anxiety to capture Mbango and his friends I ordered an immediate pursuit. Then it occurred to me that, in the event of my men being successful in overtaking the fugitives, they would instantly murder them all, so I tried to call them back; but, alas! they did not understand my words, and they were by this time so excited as to be beyond all restraint. In a few minutes I found myself left alone in the enemy’s camp, and heard the shouts of pursued and pursuers growing gradually fainter and more distant, as they scattered themselves through the jungle.Seating myself by the fire in a state of mind bordering on despair, I buried my face in my hands, and endeavoured to collect myself, and consider what, under the circumstances, should be now done.
It was excessively dark that night when we set forth on our expedition.
The scout from whom we had already ascertained so much about the intended movements of the enemy also told us that they meant to set out at a little before midnight and march on the village by a certain route. Indeed, it was very unlikely that they would approach by any other, as the jungle elsewhere was so thick as to render marching, especially at night, very difficult.
Jack therefore resolved to place the greater proportion of his troops in ambush at the mouth of a small gully or dell a few miles from the enemy’s camp, where they were almost certain to pass. But with a degree of caution that I thought highly creditable in so young and inexperienced a general, he sent out a considerable number of the most trustworthy men in advance, with instructions to proceed with the stealth of leopards, and to bring back instant information of any change of route on the part of the foe.
The troops placed in ambush at the dell above referred to were Peterkin’s hundred musketeers, supported by Jack’s spear and bow men. I was ordered to advance by a circuitous route on the camp itself with my fifty musketeers, followed by my small company of spearmen. My instructions were, to conceal my men as near to the camp as possible, and there await the first discharge of firearms from the dell, when I was to rise, advance upon the camp, utter a terrific shout when within fifty yards, rush forward to within twenty-five yards, halt, pour in one withering volley of blank cartridge, and charge without giving my men time to load.
Of course I could not speak to my men; but this was a matter of little consequence, as they were now well acquainted with our three words of command, “Forward,” “Halt,” and “Fire,” and fully understood that they must under all circumstances follow their leader. I knew well enough that there must be no little danger in this arrangement, because the leader would necessarily be always in front of the muzzles of the loaded guns. But there was no help for it, so I resolved to act upon my usual principle—namely, that when a thing is inevitable, the best thing to do is to treat it as being unavoidable.
Having conducted my men stealthily and successfully to the vicinity of the enemy’s camp, though with some difficulty, owing to the almost impenetrable nature of the jungle through which we had to pass in making the détour necessary to avoid falling in with the attacking force, we proceeded to advance to within as short a distance of it as possible without running the risk of being discovered. This was not difficult, for the men left to guard the camp, supposing, no doubt, that their presence in that part of the country was not suspected, had taken no precautions in the way of placing sentries; so we quickly arrived at the foot of a small mound about sixty yards or so from the encampment. At the foot of this mound I caused my men to lie down, giving them to understand, by signs, that they were on no account to move until I should return. Then I crept alone to the brow of the mound, and obtained a clear view of the camp.
The men who should have guarded it were, I found, busily employed in cooking their supper. There were, perhaps, upwards of a hundred of them. To my great satisfaction, I observed the captives sitting near to the fire; and although at so considerable a distance from them, I felt certain that I recognised the figures of Mbango and Okandaga. Hastening back to my men, I endeavoured to give them as much information as possible by means of signs, and then lay down beside them to await the signal from Jack’s party.
Although the attack of both our parties was to be simultaneous, the first shot was to be fired by our troops in the dell. I will therefore describe their part of the engagement first. Jack described it to me minutely after all was over.
On reaching the dell Jack disposed his forces so as to command the only approach to it. The hundred musketeers he placed in a double row directly across the deepest and darkest part. The spearmen he divided into two bodies, which he posted on the flanks of the musketeers among the bushes. He then showed the rear rank of the latter how to point their pieces over the shoulders of the men in the front rank at a given signal, but carefully reiterated the order not to touch a trigger until the word “Fire” should be given.
“Now, Peterkin,” said Jack, when these dispositions had been made, “it is time for you to get ready. Makarooroo and I can manage these fellows, so you have my permission to go and play your own independent part. Only let me warn you to remember your last exploit in this way, and see that you don’t do yourself a damage.”
“Thanks, noble general, for the permission,” answered Peterkin, “of which I shall avail myself. In reference to your advice, I may remark that it is exceedingly valuable—so much so, indeed, that I would advise you not to part with it until asked for.”
With that Peterkin ran into the jungle, and was soon lost to view.
On gaining a sufficient distance from the men, he took off the greater part of his clothes, and wound round his person several pieces of light-coloured cotton that he chanced to have with him, and some pieces of old newspaper. Then he decked his head with leaves and ragged branches, as he had done before in the haunted cave, making himself, in short, as wild and fantastic a looking creature as possible—the only difference between his getting-up on this and the former occasion being that he was white instead of black. For he wisely judged that a white demon must naturally appear infinitely more appalling and horrible to a negro than one of his own colour.
The two cones of moistened powder, however, which he had prepared for this occasion, were very much larger than the former, and had been fitted into two wooden handles, or cups, for safety. With these in his hands, he crept to the top of a steep, sloping mound or hill near the entrance to the dell, and considerably in advance of the troops. Here he sat down to await the approach of the enemy.
There is something very eerie and awe-inspiring in a solitary night-watch, especially if it be kept in a wild, lonesome place. Peterkin afterwards told me that, while sitting that night on the top of the mound, looking out upon a plain, over which the enemy were expected to approach, on the one hand, and down into the dark dell where our troops were posted, on the other hand, his heart more than once misgave him; and he could not help asking himself the questions, “What if our plans miscarry? What if our united volley and cheer, and my demoniac display, should fail to intimidate the negroes?” Such questions he did not like to dwell upon, for he knew that in the event of failure a regular pitched battle would be fought, and much blood would certainly flow.
While indulging in such thoughts, he observed a dark form glide past the foot of the mound on which he lay, and vanish in the obscurity of the dell, which was so surrounded by crags and rocky places covered with underwood that no light could penetrate into it. At first he was startled, and thought of giving the alarm to his comrades; but on second thoughts he concluded the person must have been one of his own scouts returned with news; at all events, he felt that one man could do no harm worth speaking of to so large a party.
Presently he observed a large band of men coming over the plain towards the entrance of the dell. These, he felt assured, must be the enemy; and he was right. They came on in a large, compact body, and were well-armed; yet, from the quick and unguarded manner of their approach, he could perceive that they suspected no ambush.
They entered the dell in a confused though solid and silent body; and Peterkin could observe, by the dim light, that they were led by one man, who walked in advance, whom he rightly judged to be the Portuguese slave-dealer.
The time for action had now come. He examined the points of his powder-cones, to ascertain that they were dry, then held a match in readiness, and listened intently to the footsteps of the foe.
I have already explained that Jack had drawn his musketeers across the dell, and placed the spearmen in the jungle on both flanks. They were arranged in such a way as to form three sides of a square, into which the unsuspecting enemy now marched. Jack allowed them to approach to within thirty paces of his musketeers, and then gave, in a loud, deep, sonorous tone, the word—“Hip! hip! hip!”
The compound cheer and yell that instantly followed the last hip was so tremendous, coming, as it did, from all sides except the rear, that the enemy were absolutely paralysed. They stood rooted to the earth, as motionless as if they had been transformed into stone.
Jack raised his hand, in which he held a bunch of white grass that could be distinctly seen in the dark.
Every muzzle was pointed on the instant, but not a sound was heard save the click of a hundred locks.
The sound was familiar to the enemy, although never before heard at one moment in such numbers. They started; but before a step could be taken, the word “Fire” was given.
Instantly a sheet of flame swept across the entire dell, and the united crash of a hundred guns seemed to rend the very earth. The surrounding cliffs reverberated and multiplied the horrid din, while, led by Jack, cheer followed cheer, or rather howls and yells filled the air, and kept awake the echoes of the place.
The enemy turned and fled, and the shrieks to which they gave utterance as they ran betokened the extremity of their terror. It wanted but one touch to complete their consternation, and that touch was given when Peterkin, lighting his powder-cones, showed himself on the mound, dancing in a blaze of fire, and shrieking furiously as the horrified tide of men swept by.
In the midst of his wild orgies, Peterkin acted an impromptu and unintentional part by tripping over the brow of the hill, and rolling down the steep declivity like a fire-wheel into the very midst of the flying crew. Jumping hastily up, he charged through the ranks of the foe, flung the two hissing cones high into the air, and darting into the jungle, hid himself effectually from view.
Meanwhile Jack still held the bunch of white straw aloft. Every eye was fixed on it, but not a man moved, because it remained stationary. This absence of pursuit in the midst of such appalling sights and sounds must, undoubtedly, have added to the mystery and therefore to the terrors of the scene.
Suddenly the white bunch was seen to dart forward. Jack, who now considered the enemy almost beyond the chance of being overtaken, gave the word, “Forward!” in the voice of a Stentor, following it up with “Hip, hip, hurrah!” and the whole host, musketeers and spearmen in a mingled mass, rushed yelling out upon the plain, and gave chase to the foe.
“Not so badly done,” said Jack, with a quiet laugh, as he laid his hand on Peterkin’s shoulder.
“Why, Jack, how did you find me out?”
“Easily enough, when it is considered that I saw you go in. The flame of your wild-fire indicated your movements pretty plainly to me, although terror and amazement no doubt blinded the eyes of every one else. Even Mak’s teeth began to chatter when he saw you perform that singular descent of the hill, and no wonder. I hope no bones have been broken?”
“No; all right as far as that goes,” replied Peterkin within a laugh; “but I’ve lost a good deal of skin. However, it’ll grow again. I’m glad it’s no worse. But I say, Jack, do you think our fellows won’t overtake these rascals?”
“No fear of that. I took care to give them a good start, and if there be any truth in the generally received idea that terror lends wings, I’m pretty sure that each man in the enemy’s ranks must have obtained the loan of several pairs to-night. But have you heard the sound of Ralph’s guns?”
“No; the din here was enough to drown anything so distant.”
“Well, we must away to him as fast as we can. I expect that poor Mak is off before us.”
“But you’ll wait until I put on my clothes?” said Peterkin, hasting back towards the place where he had undressed.
“Certainly, lad; only look alive.”
Soon afterwards they left the place together.
While this was going on at the dell, I, on hearing the first shot, gave the word “Forward!” in a low tone. My men instantly rose and followed me, and I could not, even at that anxious moment, help admiring the serpent-like facility with which they glided from bush to bush, without the slightest noise. We descended a hill, crossed a small brook, and approached to within thirty yards of the camp without being discovered.
Suddenly I leaped on the top of a hillock, and shouted at the utmost pitch of my voice the single word “Halt!”
On hearing it all the men in the camp sprang to their arms, and stood gazing round them with looks of consternation.
My next word was, “Fire!”
A firm, tremendous crash burst from among the bushes, and my single person, enveloped in smoke and flame, was, I believe, the only object visible to those in the camp.
“Hip, hip, hip, hurrah! forward!” I shouted; and with a ferocious yell we poured like a whirlwind upon the foe.
The same result that had occurred at the dell took place here. The enemy never awaited our charge. They fled instantly, and so great was their terror that they actually threw down their arms, in order to facilitate their flight.
On gaining the camp, however, I found, to my sorrow, that we had done the thing only too vigorously; for we had not only put the enemy to flight, but we had also frightened away those whom we had come to deliver!
At this point in the engagement I came to learn how incompetent I was to command men in cases of emergency, for here my presence of mind utterly forsook me. In my anxiety to capture Mbango and his friends I ordered an immediate pursuit. Then it occurred to me that, in the event of my men being successful in overtaking the fugitives, they would instantly murder them all, so I tried to call them back; but, alas! they did not understand my words, and they were by this time so excited as to be beyond all restraint. In a few minutes I found myself left alone in the enemy’s camp, and heard the shouts of pursued and pursuers growing gradually fainter and more distant, as they scattered themselves through the jungle.
Seating myself by the fire in a state of mind bordering on despair, I buried my face in my hands, and endeavoured to collect myself, and consider what, under the circumstances, should be now done.
Chapter Twenty One.Arrangements for pursuing the enemy, and sudden change of plans.“You seem to be taking it easy, old boy,” said a voice close to my elbow.I started, and looked up hastily.“Ah! Peterkin. You there?”“Ay; and may I not reply, with some surprise,you here?”“Truly you may,—but what could I do? The men ran away from me, whether I would or no; and you are aware I could not make myself understood, not being able to— But where is Jack?”I asked this abruptly, because it occurred to me at that moment that he and Peterkin should have been together.“Where is Jack?” echoed Peterkin; “I may ask that of you, for I am ignorant on the point. He and I got separated in endeavouring to escape from the scrimmage caused by your valiant attack. You seem to have scattered the whole force to the winds. Oh, here he is, and Mak along with him.”Jack and our guide came running into the camp at that moment.“Well, Ralph, what of Okandaga?”“Ah! what of her indeed?” said Peterkin. “I forgot her. You don’t moan to say she was not in the camp?”“Indeed she was,” said I, “and so were Mbango, and his wife Njamie, and one or two others whom I did not know; but my men went at them with such ferocity that they fled along with our enemies.”“Fled!” cried Jack.“Ay; and I fear much that it will fare ill with them if they are overtaken, for the men were wild with excitement and passion.”“Come, this must be looked to,” cried Jack, seizing his rifle and tightening his belt; “we must follow, for if they escape our hands they will certainly be retaken by their former captors.”We followed our comrade, without further remark, in the direction of the fugitives; but although we ran fast and long, we failed to come up with them. For two hours did we dash through bush and brake, jungle and morass, led by Makarooroo, and lighted by the pale beams of the moon. Then we came to a halt, and sat down to consult.“Dem be gone,” said our wretched guide, whose cup of happiness was thus dashed from his hand just as he was about to raise it to his lips.“Now, don’t look so dismal, Mak,” cried Peterkin, slapping the man on the shoulder. “You may depend upon it, we will hunt her up somehow or other. Only let us keep stout hearts, and we can do anything.”“Very easily said, Master Peterkin,” observed Jack; “but what course do you propose we should follow just now?”“Collect our scattered men; go back to the village; have a palaver with King Jambai and his chiefs; get up a pursuit, and run the foxes to earth.”“And suppose,” said Jack, “that you don’t know in which direction they have fled, how can we pursue them?”“It is very easy to suppose all manner of difficulties,” retorted Peterkin. “If you have a better plan, out with it.”“I have no better plan, but I have a slight addition to make to yours, which is, that when we collect a few of our men, I shall send them out to every point of the compass, to make tracks like the spokes of a wheel, of which the village shall be the centre; and by that means we shall be pretty certain to get information ere long as to the whereabouts of our fugitives. So now let us be up and doing; time is precious to-night.”In accordance with this plan, we rapidly retraced our steps to the dell, which had been appointed as our place of rendezvous. Here we found the greater part of our men assembled; and so well-timed had Jack’s movements been, that not one of them all had been able to overtake or slay a single enemy. Thus, by able generalship, had Jack gained a complete and bloodless victory.Having detached and sent off our scouts—who, besides being picked men, travelled without any other encumbrance than their arms—we resumed our journey homeward, and reached the village not long after sunrise, to the immense surprise of Jambai, who could scarcely believe that we had routed the enemy so completely, and whose scepticism was further increased by the total, and to him unaccountable, absence of prisoners, or of any other trophies of our success in the fight. But Jack made a public speech, of such an elaborate, deeply mysterious, and totally incomprehensible character, that even Makarooroo, who translated, listened and spoke with the deepest reverence and wonder; and when he had concluded, there was evidently a firm impression on the minds of the natives that this victory was—by some means or in some way or other quite inexplicable but highly satisfactory—the greatest they had ever achieved.The king at once agreed to Jack’s proposal that a grand pursuit should take place, to commence the instant news should be brought in by the scouts. But the news, when it did come, had the effect of totally altering our plans.The first scout who returned told us that he had fallen in with a large body of the enemy encamped on the margin of a small pond. Creeping like a snake through the grass, he succeeded in getting near enough to overhear the conversation, from which he gathered two important pieces of information—namely, that they meant to return to their own lands in a north-easterly direction, and that their prisoners had escaped by means of a canoe which they found on the banks of the river that flowed past King Jambai’s village.The first piece of information decided the king to assemble his followers, and go off in pursuit of them at once; the second piece of news determined us to obtain a canoe and follow Mbango and his companions to the sea-coast, whither, from all that we heard, we concluded they must certainly have gone. As this, however, was a journey of many weeks, we had to take the matter into serious consideration.“It is quite evident,” said Jack, as we sat over our supper on the night after receiving the above news—“it is quite evident that they mean to go to the coast, for Mbango had often expressed to Mak a wish to go there; and the mere fact of their having been seen to escape and take down stream, is in itself pretty strong evidence that they did not mean to return to their now desolated village, seeing that the country behind them is swarming with enemies; and of course they cannot know that we have conquered the main body of these rascals. I therefore propose that we should procure a canoe and follow them: first, because we must at all hazards get hold of poor Okandaga, and relieve the anxiety of our faithful guide Makarooroo; and second, because it is just as well to go in that direction as in any other, in order to meet with wild animals, and see the wonders of this land.”“But what if King Jambai takes it into his black woolly head to decline to let us go?” said Peterkin.“In that case we must take French leave of him.”“In which case,” said I, in some alarm, “all my specimens of natural history will be lost.”Jack received this remark with a shake of his head and a look of great perplexity; and Peterkin said, “Ah, Ralph, I fear there’s no help for it. You must make up your mind to say good-bye to your mummies—big puggies and all.”“But you do not know,” said I energetically, “that Jambai will detain us against our will.”“Certainly not,” replied Jack; “and for your sake I hope that he will not. At any rate I will go to see him about this point after supper. It’s of no use presenting a petition either to king, lord, or common while his stomach is empty. But there is another thing that perplexes me: that poor sick child, Njamie’s son, must not be left behind. The poor distracted mother has no doubt given him up for lost. It will be like getting him back from the grave.”“True,” said I; “we must take him with us. Yet I fear he is too ill to travel, and we cannot await his recovery.”“He is not so ill as he seemed,” observed Peterkin. “I went to see him only half an hour ago, and the little chap was quite hearty, and glad to see me. The fact is, he has been ill-used and ill-fed. The rest and good treatment he has received have, even in the short time he has been here, quite revived him.”“Good,” said Jack; “then he shall go with us. I’ll engage to take him on my back when he knocks up on the march—for we have a march before us, as I shall presently explain—and when we get into a canoe he will be able to rest.”“But what march do you refer to?” I asked.“Simply this. Mak, with whom I have had a good deal of conversation on the subject, tells me that the river makes a considerable bend below this village, and that by taking a short cut of a day’s journey or so over land we can save time, and will reach a small hamlet where canoes are to be had. The way, to be sure, is through rather a wild country; but that to us is an advantage, as we shall be the more likely to meet with game. I find, also, that the king has determined to follow the same route with his warriors in pursuit of the enemy, so that thus far we may travel together. At the hamlet we will diverge to the north-east, while we, if all goes well, embarking in our canoe, will proceed toward the west coast, where, if we do not overtake them on the way, we shall be certain to find them on our arrival. Okandaga has often longed to go to the mission station there, and as she knows it is in vain to urge Mbango to return to his destroyed village, she will doubtless advise him to go to the coast.”“What you say seems highly probable,” said I; “and I think the best thing you can do is to go to the king at once and talk him over.”“Trust Jack for that,” added Peterkin, who was at that moment deeply engaged with what he called the drumstick of a roast monkey. “Jack would talk over any creature with life, so persuasive is his eloquence. I say, Ralph,” he added, holding the half-picked drumstick at arm’s length, and regarding it with a critical gaze, “I wonder, now, how the drumstick of an ostrich would taste. Good, I have no doubt, though rather large for one man’s dinner.”“It would be almost equal to gorilla ham, I should fancy,” said Jack, as he left the hut on his errand to the king.“O you cannibal, to think of such a thing!” cried Peterkin, throwing the bone of his drumstick after our retreating comrade.—“But ’tis always thus,” he added, with a sigh: “man preys upon man, monkey upon monkey. Yet I had hoped better things of Jack. I had believed him to be at least a refined species of gorilla. I say, Ralph, what makes you look so lugubrious?”“The difficulties, I suppose, that beset our path,” said I sadly; for, to say truth, I did not feel in a jesting humour just then. I was forced, however, in spite of myself, to laugh at the expression of mingled disgust and surprise that overspread the mobile countenance of my friend on hearing my reply.“‘The difficulties,’” echoed he, “‘that beset our path!’ Really, Ralph, life will become insupportable to me if you and Jack go on in this fashion. A man of nerve and sanguine temperament might stand it, but to one like me, of a naturally timid and leaning nature, with the addition of low spirits, it is really crushing—quite crushing.”I laughed, and replied that he must just submit to be crushed, as it was impossible for Jack and me to change our dispositions to suit his convenience; whereupon he sighed, lighted his pipe, and began to smoke vehemently.In the course of little more than an hour Jack returned, accompanied by Makarooroo, and from the satisfied expression of their faces I judged that they had been successful.“Ah! I see; it’s all right,” said Peterkin, raising himself on one elbow as they entered the hut and seated themselves beside the fire. “Old Jambai has been ‘talked over.’”“Right; but he needed a deal of talk—he was horribly obstinate,” said Jack.“Ho, yis; ho! ho! horribubly obsterlate,” added Makarooroo in corroboration, rubbing his hands and holding his nose slyly over the bowl of Peterkin’s pipe, in order to enjoy, as it were, a second-hand whiff.“Here, there’s a bit for yourself, old boy. Sit down and enjoy yourself while Jack tells us all about his interview with royalty,” said Peterkin, handing a lump of tobacco to our guide, whose eyes glistened and white teeth gleamed as he received the much-prized gift.Jack now explained to us that he had found the king in a happy state of satiety, smoking in his very curious and uneasy-looking easy-chair; that he had at first begged and entreated him (Jack) to stay and take command of his warriors, and had followed up his entreaties with a hint that it was just possible he might adopt stronger measures if entreaty failed.To this Jack replied in a long speech, in which he pointed out the impossibility of our complying with the king’s request under present circumstances, and the absolute necessity of our returning at some period or other to our native land to tell our people of the wonders we had seen in the great country of King Jambai. Observing that his arguments did not make much impression on the king, he brought up his reserve force to the attack, and offered all the remainder of our goods as a free gift to his majesty, stipulating only that he (the king) should, in consideration thereof, carefully send our boxes of specimens down to the coast, where the messengers, on arriving, should be handsomely paid if everything should arrive safely and in good order.These liberal offers had a visible influence on the sable monarch, whose pipe indicated the state of his mind pretty clearly—thin wreaths of smoke issuing therefrom when he did not sympathise with Jack’s reasoning, and thick voluminous clouds revolving about his woolly head, and involving him, as it were, in a veil of gauze, when he became pleasantly impressed. When Jack made mention of the valuable gifts above referred to, his head and shoulders were indistinctly visible amid the white cloudlets; and when he further offered to supply him with a few hundreds of the magical paper balls that had so effectually defeated his enemies the day before, the upper part of his person was obliterated altogether in smoke.This last offer of Jack’s we deemed a great stroke of politic wisdom, for thereby he secured that the pending war should be marked by the shedding of less blood than is normal in such cases. He endeavoured further to secure this end by assuring the king that the balls would be useless for the purpose for which they were made if any other substance should be put into the gun along with them, and that they would only accomplish the great end of putting the enemy to flight if fired at them in one tremendous volley at a time when the foe had no idea of the presence of an enemy.All things being thus amicably arranged, we retired to rest, and slept soundly until daybreak, when we were awakened by the busy sounds of preparation in the village for the intended pursuit.We, too, made active arrangements for a start, and soon after were trooping over the plains and through the jungle in the rear of King Jambai’s army, laden with such things as we required for our journey to the coast, and Jack, besides his proportion of our food, bedding, cooking utensils, etcetera, carrying Njamie’s little sick boy on his broad shoulders.
“You seem to be taking it easy, old boy,” said a voice close to my elbow.
I started, and looked up hastily.
“Ah! Peterkin. You there?”
“Ay; and may I not reply, with some surprise,you here?”
“Truly you may,—but what could I do? The men ran away from me, whether I would or no; and you are aware I could not make myself understood, not being able to— But where is Jack?”
I asked this abruptly, because it occurred to me at that moment that he and Peterkin should have been together.
“Where is Jack?” echoed Peterkin; “I may ask that of you, for I am ignorant on the point. He and I got separated in endeavouring to escape from the scrimmage caused by your valiant attack. You seem to have scattered the whole force to the winds. Oh, here he is, and Mak along with him.”
Jack and our guide came running into the camp at that moment.
“Well, Ralph, what of Okandaga?”
“Ah! what of her indeed?” said Peterkin. “I forgot her. You don’t moan to say she was not in the camp?”
“Indeed she was,” said I, “and so were Mbango, and his wife Njamie, and one or two others whom I did not know; but my men went at them with such ferocity that they fled along with our enemies.”
“Fled!” cried Jack.
“Ay; and I fear much that it will fare ill with them if they are overtaken, for the men were wild with excitement and passion.”
“Come, this must be looked to,” cried Jack, seizing his rifle and tightening his belt; “we must follow, for if they escape our hands they will certainly be retaken by their former captors.”
We followed our comrade, without further remark, in the direction of the fugitives; but although we ran fast and long, we failed to come up with them. For two hours did we dash through bush and brake, jungle and morass, led by Makarooroo, and lighted by the pale beams of the moon. Then we came to a halt, and sat down to consult.
“Dem be gone,” said our wretched guide, whose cup of happiness was thus dashed from his hand just as he was about to raise it to his lips.
“Now, don’t look so dismal, Mak,” cried Peterkin, slapping the man on the shoulder. “You may depend upon it, we will hunt her up somehow or other. Only let us keep stout hearts, and we can do anything.”
“Very easily said, Master Peterkin,” observed Jack; “but what course do you propose we should follow just now?”
“Collect our scattered men; go back to the village; have a palaver with King Jambai and his chiefs; get up a pursuit, and run the foxes to earth.”
“And suppose,” said Jack, “that you don’t know in which direction they have fled, how can we pursue them?”
“It is very easy to suppose all manner of difficulties,” retorted Peterkin. “If you have a better plan, out with it.”
“I have no better plan, but I have a slight addition to make to yours, which is, that when we collect a few of our men, I shall send them out to every point of the compass, to make tracks like the spokes of a wheel, of which the village shall be the centre; and by that means we shall be pretty certain to get information ere long as to the whereabouts of our fugitives. So now let us be up and doing; time is precious to-night.”
In accordance with this plan, we rapidly retraced our steps to the dell, which had been appointed as our place of rendezvous. Here we found the greater part of our men assembled; and so well-timed had Jack’s movements been, that not one of them all had been able to overtake or slay a single enemy. Thus, by able generalship, had Jack gained a complete and bloodless victory.
Having detached and sent off our scouts—who, besides being picked men, travelled without any other encumbrance than their arms—we resumed our journey homeward, and reached the village not long after sunrise, to the immense surprise of Jambai, who could scarcely believe that we had routed the enemy so completely, and whose scepticism was further increased by the total, and to him unaccountable, absence of prisoners, or of any other trophies of our success in the fight. But Jack made a public speech, of such an elaborate, deeply mysterious, and totally incomprehensible character, that even Makarooroo, who translated, listened and spoke with the deepest reverence and wonder; and when he had concluded, there was evidently a firm impression on the minds of the natives that this victory was—by some means or in some way or other quite inexplicable but highly satisfactory—the greatest they had ever achieved.
The king at once agreed to Jack’s proposal that a grand pursuit should take place, to commence the instant news should be brought in by the scouts. But the news, when it did come, had the effect of totally altering our plans.
The first scout who returned told us that he had fallen in with a large body of the enemy encamped on the margin of a small pond. Creeping like a snake through the grass, he succeeded in getting near enough to overhear the conversation, from which he gathered two important pieces of information—namely, that they meant to return to their own lands in a north-easterly direction, and that their prisoners had escaped by means of a canoe which they found on the banks of the river that flowed past King Jambai’s village.
The first piece of information decided the king to assemble his followers, and go off in pursuit of them at once; the second piece of news determined us to obtain a canoe and follow Mbango and his companions to the sea-coast, whither, from all that we heard, we concluded they must certainly have gone. As this, however, was a journey of many weeks, we had to take the matter into serious consideration.
“It is quite evident,” said Jack, as we sat over our supper on the night after receiving the above news—“it is quite evident that they mean to go to the coast, for Mbango had often expressed to Mak a wish to go there; and the mere fact of their having been seen to escape and take down stream, is in itself pretty strong evidence that they did not mean to return to their now desolated village, seeing that the country behind them is swarming with enemies; and of course they cannot know that we have conquered the main body of these rascals. I therefore propose that we should procure a canoe and follow them: first, because we must at all hazards get hold of poor Okandaga, and relieve the anxiety of our faithful guide Makarooroo; and second, because it is just as well to go in that direction as in any other, in order to meet with wild animals, and see the wonders of this land.”
“But what if King Jambai takes it into his black woolly head to decline to let us go?” said Peterkin.
“In that case we must take French leave of him.”
“In which case,” said I, in some alarm, “all my specimens of natural history will be lost.”
Jack received this remark with a shake of his head and a look of great perplexity; and Peterkin said, “Ah, Ralph, I fear there’s no help for it. You must make up your mind to say good-bye to your mummies—big puggies and all.”
“But you do not know,” said I energetically, “that Jambai will detain us against our will.”
“Certainly not,” replied Jack; “and for your sake I hope that he will not. At any rate I will go to see him about this point after supper. It’s of no use presenting a petition either to king, lord, or common while his stomach is empty. But there is another thing that perplexes me: that poor sick child, Njamie’s son, must not be left behind. The poor distracted mother has no doubt given him up for lost. It will be like getting him back from the grave.”
“True,” said I; “we must take him with us. Yet I fear he is too ill to travel, and we cannot await his recovery.”
“He is not so ill as he seemed,” observed Peterkin. “I went to see him only half an hour ago, and the little chap was quite hearty, and glad to see me. The fact is, he has been ill-used and ill-fed. The rest and good treatment he has received have, even in the short time he has been here, quite revived him.”
“Good,” said Jack; “then he shall go with us. I’ll engage to take him on my back when he knocks up on the march—for we have a march before us, as I shall presently explain—and when we get into a canoe he will be able to rest.”
“But what march do you refer to?” I asked.
“Simply this. Mak, with whom I have had a good deal of conversation on the subject, tells me that the river makes a considerable bend below this village, and that by taking a short cut of a day’s journey or so over land we can save time, and will reach a small hamlet where canoes are to be had. The way, to be sure, is through rather a wild country; but that to us is an advantage, as we shall be the more likely to meet with game. I find, also, that the king has determined to follow the same route with his warriors in pursuit of the enemy, so that thus far we may travel together. At the hamlet we will diverge to the north-east, while we, if all goes well, embarking in our canoe, will proceed toward the west coast, where, if we do not overtake them on the way, we shall be certain to find them on our arrival. Okandaga has often longed to go to the mission station there, and as she knows it is in vain to urge Mbango to return to his destroyed village, she will doubtless advise him to go to the coast.”
“What you say seems highly probable,” said I; “and I think the best thing you can do is to go to the king at once and talk him over.”
“Trust Jack for that,” added Peterkin, who was at that moment deeply engaged with what he called the drumstick of a roast monkey. “Jack would talk over any creature with life, so persuasive is his eloquence. I say, Ralph,” he added, holding the half-picked drumstick at arm’s length, and regarding it with a critical gaze, “I wonder, now, how the drumstick of an ostrich would taste. Good, I have no doubt, though rather large for one man’s dinner.”
“It would be almost equal to gorilla ham, I should fancy,” said Jack, as he left the hut on his errand to the king.
“O you cannibal, to think of such a thing!” cried Peterkin, throwing the bone of his drumstick after our retreating comrade.—“But ’tis always thus,” he added, with a sigh: “man preys upon man, monkey upon monkey. Yet I had hoped better things of Jack. I had believed him to be at least a refined species of gorilla. I say, Ralph, what makes you look so lugubrious?”
“The difficulties, I suppose, that beset our path,” said I sadly; for, to say truth, I did not feel in a jesting humour just then. I was forced, however, in spite of myself, to laugh at the expression of mingled disgust and surprise that overspread the mobile countenance of my friend on hearing my reply.
“‘The difficulties,’” echoed he, “‘that beset our path!’ Really, Ralph, life will become insupportable to me if you and Jack go on in this fashion. A man of nerve and sanguine temperament might stand it, but to one like me, of a naturally timid and leaning nature, with the addition of low spirits, it is really crushing—quite crushing.”
I laughed, and replied that he must just submit to be crushed, as it was impossible for Jack and me to change our dispositions to suit his convenience; whereupon he sighed, lighted his pipe, and began to smoke vehemently.
In the course of little more than an hour Jack returned, accompanied by Makarooroo, and from the satisfied expression of their faces I judged that they had been successful.
“Ah! I see; it’s all right,” said Peterkin, raising himself on one elbow as they entered the hut and seated themselves beside the fire. “Old Jambai has been ‘talked over.’”
“Right; but he needed a deal of talk—he was horribly obstinate,” said Jack.
“Ho, yis; ho! ho! horribubly obsterlate,” added Makarooroo in corroboration, rubbing his hands and holding his nose slyly over the bowl of Peterkin’s pipe, in order to enjoy, as it were, a second-hand whiff.
“Here, there’s a bit for yourself, old boy. Sit down and enjoy yourself while Jack tells us all about his interview with royalty,” said Peterkin, handing a lump of tobacco to our guide, whose eyes glistened and white teeth gleamed as he received the much-prized gift.
Jack now explained to us that he had found the king in a happy state of satiety, smoking in his very curious and uneasy-looking easy-chair; that he had at first begged and entreated him (Jack) to stay and take command of his warriors, and had followed up his entreaties with a hint that it was just possible he might adopt stronger measures if entreaty failed.
To this Jack replied in a long speech, in which he pointed out the impossibility of our complying with the king’s request under present circumstances, and the absolute necessity of our returning at some period or other to our native land to tell our people of the wonders we had seen in the great country of King Jambai. Observing that his arguments did not make much impression on the king, he brought up his reserve force to the attack, and offered all the remainder of our goods as a free gift to his majesty, stipulating only that he (the king) should, in consideration thereof, carefully send our boxes of specimens down to the coast, where the messengers, on arriving, should be handsomely paid if everything should arrive safely and in good order.
These liberal offers had a visible influence on the sable monarch, whose pipe indicated the state of his mind pretty clearly—thin wreaths of smoke issuing therefrom when he did not sympathise with Jack’s reasoning, and thick voluminous clouds revolving about his woolly head, and involving him, as it were, in a veil of gauze, when he became pleasantly impressed. When Jack made mention of the valuable gifts above referred to, his head and shoulders were indistinctly visible amid the white cloudlets; and when he further offered to supply him with a few hundreds of the magical paper balls that had so effectually defeated his enemies the day before, the upper part of his person was obliterated altogether in smoke.
This last offer of Jack’s we deemed a great stroke of politic wisdom, for thereby he secured that the pending war should be marked by the shedding of less blood than is normal in such cases. He endeavoured further to secure this end by assuring the king that the balls would be useless for the purpose for which they were made if any other substance should be put into the gun along with them, and that they would only accomplish the great end of putting the enemy to flight if fired at them in one tremendous volley at a time when the foe had no idea of the presence of an enemy.
All things being thus amicably arranged, we retired to rest, and slept soundly until daybreak, when we were awakened by the busy sounds of preparation in the village for the intended pursuit.
We, too, made active arrangements for a start, and soon after were trooping over the plains and through the jungle in the rear of King Jambai’s army, laden with such things as we required for our journey to the coast, and Jack, besides his proportion of our food, bedding, cooking utensils, etcetera, carrying Njamie’s little sick boy on his broad shoulders.
Chapter Twenty Two.We Meet with a Ludicrously Awful Adventure.The day following that on which we set out from King Jambai’s village, as narrated in the last chapter, Jack, Peterkin, Makarooroo, Njamie’s little boy, and I embarked in a small canoe, and bidding adieu to our hospitable friends, set out on our return journey to the coast.We determined to proceed thither by another branch of the river which would take us through a totally new, and in some respects different, country from that in which we had already travelled, and which, in the course of a few weeks, would carry us again into the neighbourhood of the gorilla country.One beautiful afternoon, about a week after parting from our friends, we met with an adventure in which the serious and the comic were strangely mingled. Feeling somewhat fatigued after a long spell at our paddles, and being anxious to procure a monkey or a deer, as we had run short of food, we put ashore, and made our encampment on the banks of the river. This done, we each sallied out in different directions, leaving Makarooroo in charge of the camp.For some time I wandered about the woods in quest of game, but although I fired at many animals that were good for food, I missed them all, and was unwillingly compelled to return empty-handed. On my way back, and while yet several miles distant from the camp, I met Jack, who had several fat birds of the grouse species hanging at his girdle.“I am glad to see that you have been more successful than I, Jack,” said I, as we met.“Yet I have not much to boast of,” he replied. “It is to be hoped that Peterkin has had better luck. Have you seen him?”“No; I have not even heard him fire a shot.”“Well, let us go on. Doubtless he will make his appearance in good time. What say you to following the course of this brook? I have no doubt it will guide us to the vicinity of our camp, and the ground immediately to the left of it seems pretty clear of jungle.”“Agreed,” said I; and for the next ten minutes or so we walked beside each other in silence. Suddenly our footsteps were arrested by a low peculiar noise.“Hark! is that a human voice?” whispered Jack, as he cocked his rifle.“It sounds like it,” said I.At the same moment we heard some branches in an opposite direction crack, as if they had been broken by a heavy tread. Immediately after, the first sound became louder and more distinct. Jack looked at me in surprise, and gradually a peculiar smile overspread his face.“It’s Peterkin,” said I, in a low whisper.My companion nodded, and half-cocking our pieces, we advanced with slow and cautious steps towards the spot whence the sound had come. The gurgling noise of the brook prevented us from hearing as well as usual, so it was not until we were close upon the bushes that fringed the banks of the streamlet that we clearly discerned the tones of Peterkin’s voice in conversation with some one, who, however, seemed to make no reply to his remarks. At first I thought he must be talking to himself, but in this I was mistaken.“Let’s listen for a minute or two,” whispered my companion, with a broad grin.I nodded assent, and advancing cautiously, we peeped over the bushes. The sight that met our eyes was so irresistibly comic that we could scarcely restrain our laughter.On a soft grassy spot, close to the warbling stream, lay our friend Peterkin, on his breast, resting on his elbows, and the forefinger of his right hand raised. Before him, not more than six inches from his nose, sat the most gigantic frog I ever beheld, looking inordinately fat and intensely stupid. My memory instantly flew back to the scene on the coral island where Jack and I had caught our friend holding a quiet conversation with the old cat, and I laughed internally as I thought on the proverb, “The boy is the father of the man.”“Frog,” said Peterkin, in a low, earnest voice, at the same time shaking his finger slowly and fixing his eyes on the plethoric creature before him—“frog, you may believe it or not as you please, but I do solemnly assure you that I never did behold such a great, big, fat monster as you are in all—my—life! What do you mean by it?”As the frog made no reply to this question, but merely kept up an incessant puffing motion in its throat, Peterkin continued—“Now, frog, answer me this one question—and mind that you don’t tell lies—you may not be aware of it, but you can’t plead ignorance, for I now tell you that it is exceedingly wicked to tell lies, whether you be a frog or only a boy. Now, tell me, did you ever read ‘Aesop’s Fables?’”The frog continued to puff, but otherwise took no notice of its questioner. I could not help fancying that it was beginning to look sulky at being thus catechised.“What, you won’t speak! Well, I’ll answer for you: you havenotread ‘Aesop’s Fables;’ if you had you would not go on blowing yourself up in that way. I’m only a little man, it’s true—more’s the pity—but if you imagine that by blowing and puffing like that you can ever come to blow up as big as me, you’ll find yourself mistaken. You can’t do it, so you needn’t try. You’ll only give yourself rheumatism. Now,willyou stop? If you won’t stop you’ll burst—there.”Peterkin paused here, and for some time continued to gaze intently in the face of his new friend. Presently he began again—“Frog, what are you thinking of? Do you ever think? I don’t believe you do. Tightened up as you seem to be with wind or fat or conceit, if you were to attempt to think the effort would crack your skin, so you’d better not try. But, after all, you’ve some good points about you. If it were not that you would become vain I would tell you that you’ve got a very good pair of bright eyes, and a pretty mottled skin, and that you’re at least the size of a big chicken—not a plucked but a full-fledged chicken. But, O frog, you’ve got a horribly ugly big mouth, and you’re too fat—a great deal too fat for elegance; though I have no doubt it’s comfortable. Most fat people are comfortable. Oh! you would, would you?”This last exclamation was caused by the frog making a lazy leap to one side, tumbling heavily over on its back, and rolling clumsily on to its legs again, as if it wished to escape from its tormentor, but had scarcely vigour enough to make the effort. Peterkin quietly lifted it up and placed it deliberately before him again in the same attitude as before.“Don’t try that again, old boy,” said he, shaking his finger threateningly and frowning severely, “else I’ll be obliged to give you a poke in the nose. I wonder, now, Frog, if you ever had a mother, or if you only grew out of the earth like a plant. Tell me, were you ever dandled in a mother’s arms? Do you know anything of maternal affection, eh? Humph! I suspect not. You would not look so besottedly stupid if you did. I tell you what it is, old fellow: you’re uncommonly bad company, and I’ve a good mind to ram my knife through you, and carry you into camp to my friend Ralph Rover, who’ll skin and stuff you to such an extent that your own mother wouldn’t know you, and carry you to England, and place you in a museum under a glass case, to be gazed at by nurses, and stared at by children, and philosophised about by learned professors. Hollo! none o’ that now. Come, poor beast; I didn’t mean to frighten you. There, sit still, and don’t oblige me to stick you up again, and I’ll not take you to Ralph.”The poor frog, which had made another attempt to escape, gazed vacantly at Peterkin again without moving, except in regard to the puffing before referred to.“Now, frog, I’ll have to bid you good afternoon. I’m sorry that time and circumstance necessitate our separation, but I’m glad that I have had the pleasure of meeting with you. Glad and sorry, frog, in the same breath! Did you ever philosophise on that point, eh? Is it possible, think you, to be glad and sorry at one and the same moment? No doubt a creature like you, with such a very small intellect, if indeed you have any at all, will say that it is not possible. But I know better. Why, what do you call hysterics? Ain’t that laughing and crying at once—sorrow and joy mixed? I don’t believe you understand a word that I say. You great puffing blockhead, what are you staring at?”The frog, as before, refused to make any reply; so our friend lay for some time chuckling and making faces at it. While thus engaged he happened to look up, and to our surprise as well as alarm we observed that he suddenly turned as pale as death.To cock our rifles, and take a step forward so as to obtain a view in the direction in which he was gazing with a fixed and horrified stare, was our immediate impulse. The object that met our eyes on clearing the bushes was indeed well calculated to strike terror into the stoutest heart; for there, not three yards distant from the spot on which our friend lay, and partially concealed by foliage, stood a large black rhinoceros. It seemed to have just approached at that moment, and had been suddenly arrested, if not surprised, by the vision of Peterkin and the frog. There was something inexpressibly horrible in the sight of the great block of a head, with its mischievous-looking eyes, ungainly snout, and ponderous horn, in such close proximity to our friend. How it had got so near without its heavy tread being heard I cannot tell, unless it were that the noise of the turbulent brook had drowned the sound.But we had no time either for speculation or contemplation. Both Jack and I instantly took aim—he at the shoulder, as he afterwards told me; I at the monster’s eye, into which, with, I am bound to confess, my usual precipitancy, I discharged both barrels.The report seemed to have the effect of arousing Peterkin out of his state of fascination, for he sprang up and darted towards us. At the same instant the wounded rhinoceros crossed the spot which he had left with a terrific rush, and bursting through the bushes as if it had been a great rock falling from a mountain cliff, went headlong into the rivulet.Without moving from the spot on which we stood, we recharged our pieces with a degree of celerity that, I am persuaded, we never before equalled. Peterkin at the same time caught up his rifle, which leaned against a tree hard by, and only a few seconds elapsed after the fall of the monster into the river ere we were upon its banks ready for another shot.The portion of the bank of the stream at this spot happened to be rather steep, so that the rhinoceros, on regaining his feet, experienced considerable difficulty in the attempts to clamber out, which he made repeatedly and violently on seeing us emerge from among the bushes.“Let us separate,” said Jack; “it will distract his attention.”“Stay; you have blown out his eye, Ralph, I do believe,” said Peterkin.On drawing near to the struggling monster we observed that this was really the case. Blood streamed from the eye into which I had fired, and poured down his hideous jaws, dyeing the water in which he floundered.“Look out!” cried Jack, springing to the right, in order to get on the animal’s blind side as it succeeded in effecting a landing.Peterkin instantly sprang in the same direction, while I bounded to the opposite side. I have never been able satisfactorily to decide in my own mind whether this act on my part was performed in consequence of a sudden, almost involuntary, idea that by so doing I should help to distract the creature’s attention, or was the result merely of an accidental impulse. But whatever the cause, the effect was most fortunate; for the rhinoceros at once turned towards me, and thus, being blind in the other eye, lost sight of Jack and Peterkin, who with the rapidity almost of thought leaped close up to its side, and took close aim at the most vulnerable parts of its body. As they were directly opposite to me, I felt that I ran some risk of receiving their fire. But before I had time either to reflect that they could not possibly miss so large an object at so short a distance, or to get out of the way, the report of both their heavy rifles rang through the forest, and the rhinoceros fell dead almost at my feet.“Hurrah!” shouted Peterkin, throwing his cap into the air at this happy consummation, and sitting down on the haunch of our victim.“Shame on you, Peterkin,” said I, as I reloaded his rifle for him—“shame on you to crow thus over a fallen foe!”“Ha, boy! it’s all very well for you to say that now, but you know well enough that you would rather have lost your ears than have missed such a chance as this. But, I say, it’ll puzzle you to stuff that fellow, won’t it?”“No doubt of it,” answered Jack, as he drew a percussion cap from his pouch, and placed it carefully on the nipple of his rifle. “Ralph will not find it easy; and it’s a pity, too, not to take it home with us, for under a glass case it would make such a pretty and appropriatependant, in his museum, to that interesting frog with which you—”“Oh, you sneaking eavesdropper!” cried Peterkin, laughing. “It is really too bad that a fellow can’t have a littletête-à-têtewith a friend but you and Ralph must be thrusting your impertinent noses in the way.”“Not to mention the rhinoceros,” observed Jack.“Ah! to be sure—the rhinoceros; yes, I might have expected to find you in such low company, for ‘birds of a feather,’ you know, are said to ‘flock together.’”“If there be any truth in that,” said I, “you are bound, on the same ground, to identify yourself with the frog.”“By the way,” cried Peterkin, starting up and looking around the spot on which his interestingtête-à-têtehad taken place, “where is the frog? It was just here that—Ah!—oh!—oh! poor, poor frog!“‘Your course is run, your days are o’er;We’ll never have a chat no more,’“As Shakespeare has it. Well, well, who would have thought that so conversable and intelligent a creature should have come to such a melancholy end?”The poor frog had indeed come to a sad and sudden end, and I felt quite sorry for it, although I could not help smiling at my companion’s quaint manner of announcing the fact.Not being gifted with the activity of Peterkin, it had stood its ground when the rhinoceros charged, and had received an accidental kick from the great foot of that animal which had broken its back and killed it outright.“There’s one comfort, however,” observed Jack, as we stood over the frog’s body: “you have been saved the disagreeable necessity of killing it yourself, Ralph.”This was true, and I was not sorry that the rhinoceros had done me this service; for, to say truth, I have ever felt the necessity of killing animals in cold blood to be one of the few disagreeable points in the otherwise delightful life of a naturalist. To shoot animals in the heat and excitement of the chase I have never felt to be particularly repulsive or difficult; but the spearing of an insect, or the deliberate killing of an unresisting frog, are duties which I have ever performed with a feeling of deep self-abhorrence.Carefully packing my frog in leaves, and placing it in my pouch, I turned with my companions to quit the scene of our late encounter and return to our camp, on arriving at which we purposed sending back Makarooroo to cut off the horn of the rhinoceros; for we agreed that, as it was impossible to carry away the entire carcass, we ought at least to secure the horn as a memorial of our adventure.
The day following that on which we set out from King Jambai’s village, as narrated in the last chapter, Jack, Peterkin, Makarooroo, Njamie’s little boy, and I embarked in a small canoe, and bidding adieu to our hospitable friends, set out on our return journey to the coast.
We determined to proceed thither by another branch of the river which would take us through a totally new, and in some respects different, country from that in which we had already travelled, and which, in the course of a few weeks, would carry us again into the neighbourhood of the gorilla country.
One beautiful afternoon, about a week after parting from our friends, we met with an adventure in which the serious and the comic were strangely mingled. Feeling somewhat fatigued after a long spell at our paddles, and being anxious to procure a monkey or a deer, as we had run short of food, we put ashore, and made our encampment on the banks of the river. This done, we each sallied out in different directions, leaving Makarooroo in charge of the camp.
For some time I wandered about the woods in quest of game, but although I fired at many animals that were good for food, I missed them all, and was unwillingly compelled to return empty-handed. On my way back, and while yet several miles distant from the camp, I met Jack, who had several fat birds of the grouse species hanging at his girdle.
“I am glad to see that you have been more successful than I, Jack,” said I, as we met.
“Yet I have not much to boast of,” he replied. “It is to be hoped that Peterkin has had better luck. Have you seen him?”
“No; I have not even heard him fire a shot.”
“Well, let us go on. Doubtless he will make his appearance in good time. What say you to following the course of this brook? I have no doubt it will guide us to the vicinity of our camp, and the ground immediately to the left of it seems pretty clear of jungle.”
“Agreed,” said I; and for the next ten minutes or so we walked beside each other in silence. Suddenly our footsteps were arrested by a low peculiar noise.
“Hark! is that a human voice?” whispered Jack, as he cocked his rifle.
“It sounds like it,” said I.
At the same moment we heard some branches in an opposite direction crack, as if they had been broken by a heavy tread. Immediately after, the first sound became louder and more distinct. Jack looked at me in surprise, and gradually a peculiar smile overspread his face.
“It’s Peterkin,” said I, in a low whisper.
My companion nodded, and half-cocking our pieces, we advanced with slow and cautious steps towards the spot whence the sound had come. The gurgling noise of the brook prevented us from hearing as well as usual, so it was not until we were close upon the bushes that fringed the banks of the streamlet that we clearly discerned the tones of Peterkin’s voice in conversation with some one, who, however, seemed to make no reply to his remarks. At first I thought he must be talking to himself, but in this I was mistaken.
“Let’s listen for a minute or two,” whispered my companion, with a broad grin.
I nodded assent, and advancing cautiously, we peeped over the bushes. The sight that met our eyes was so irresistibly comic that we could scarcely restrain our laughter.
On a soft grassy spot, close to the warbling stream, lay our friend Peterkin, on his breast, resting on his elbows, and the forefinger of his right hand raised. Before him, not more than six inches from his nose, sat the most gigantic frog I ever beheld, looking inordinately fat and intensely stupid. My memory instantly flew back to the scene on the coral island where Jack and I had caught our friend holding a quiet conversation with the old cat, and I laughed internally as I thought on the proverb, “The boy is the father of the man.”
“Frog,” said Peterkin, in a low, earnest voice, at the same time shaking his finger slowly and fixing his eyes on the plethoric creature before him—“frog, you may believe it or not as you please, but I do solemnly assure you that I never did behold such a great, big, fat monster as you are in all—my—life! What do you mean by it?”
As the frog made no reply to this question, but merely kept up an incessant puffing motion in its throat, Peterkin continued—
“Now, frog, answer me this one question—and mind that you don’t tell lies—you may not be aware of it, but you can’t plead ignorance, for I now tell you that it is exceedingly wicked to tell lies, whether you be a frog or only a boy. Now, tell me, did you ever read ‘Aesop’s Fables?’”
The frog continued to puff, but otherwise took no notice of its questioner. I could not help fancying that it was beginning to look sulky at being thus catechised.
“What, you won’t speak! Well, I’ll answer for you: you havenotread ‘Aesop’s Fables;’ if you had you would not go on blowing yourself up in that way. I’m only a little man, it’s true—more’s the pity—but if you imagine that by blowing and puffing like that you can ever come to blow up as big as me, you’ll find yourself mistaken. You can’t do it, so you needn’t try. You’ll only give yourself rheumatism. Now,willyou stop? If you won’t stop you’ll burst—there.”
Peterkin paused here, and for some time continued to gaze intently in the face of his new friend. Presently he began again—
“Frog, what are you thinking of? Do you ever think? I don’t believe you do. Tightened up as you seem to be with wind or fat or conceit, if you were to attempt to think the effort would crack your skin, so you’d better not try. But, after all, you’ve some good points about you. If it were not that you would become vain I would tell you that you’ve got a very good pair of bright eyes, and a pretty mottled skin, and that you’re at least the size of a big chicken—not a plucked but a full-fledged chicken. But, O frog, you’ve got a horribly ugly big mouth, and you’re too fat—a great deal too fat for elegance; though I have no doubt it’s comfortable. Most fat people are comfortable. Oh! you would, would you?”
This last exclamation was caused by the frog making a lazy leap to one side, tumbling heavily over on its back, and rolling clumsily on to its legs again, as if it wished to escape from its tormentor, but had scarcely vigour enough to make the effort. Peterkin quietly lifted it up and placed it deliberately before him again in the same attitude as before.
“Don’t try that again, old boy,” said he, shaking his finger threateningly and frowning severely, “else I’ll be obliged to give you a poke in the nose. I wonder, now, Frog, if you ever had a mother, or if you only grew out of the earth like a plant. Tell me, were you ever dandled in a mother’s arms? Do you know anything of maternal affection, eh? Humph! I suspect not. You would not look so besottedly stupid if you did. I tell you what it is, old fellow: you’re uncommonly bad company, and I’ve a good mind to ram my knife through you, and carry you into camp to my friend Ralph Rover, who’ll skin and stuff you to such an extent that your own mother wouldn’t know you, and carry you to England, and place you in a museum under a glass case, to be gazed at by nurses, and stared at by children, and philosophised about by learned professors. Hollo! none o’ that now. Come, poor beast; I didn’t mean to frighten you. There, sit still, and don’t oblige me to stick you up again, and I’ll not take you to Ralph.”
The poor frog, which had made another attempt to escape, gazed vacantly at Peterkin again without moving, except in regard to the puffing before referred to.
“Now, frog, I’ll have to bid you good afternoon. I’m sorry that time and circumstance necessitate our separation, but I’m glad that I have had the pleasure of meeting with you. Glad and sorry, frog, in the same breath! Did you ever philosophise on that point, eh? Is it possible, think you, to be glad and sorry at one and the same moment? No doubt a creature like you, with such a very small intellect, if indeed you have any at all, will say that it is not possible. But I know better. Why, what do you call hysterics? Ain’t that laughing and crying at once—sorrow and joy mixed? I don’t believe you understand a word that I say. You great puffing blockhead, what are you staring at?”
The frog, as before, refused to make any reply; so our friend lay for some time chuckling and making faces at it. While thus engaged he happened to look up, and to our surprise as well as alarm we observed that he suddenly turned as pale as death.
To cock our rifles, and take a step forward so as to obtain a view in the direction in which he was gazing with a fixed and horrified stare, was our immediate impulse. The object that met our eyes on clearing the bushes was indeed well calculated to strike terror into the stoutest heart; for there, not three yards distant from the spot on which our friend lay, and partially concealed by foliage, stood a large black rhinoceros. It seemed to have just approached at that moment, and had been suddenly arrested, if not surprised, by the vision of Peterkin and the frog. There was something inexpressibly horrible in the sight of the great block of a head, with its mischievous-looking eyes, ungainly snout, and ponderous horn, in such close proximity to our friend. How it had got so near without its heavy tread being heard I cannot tell, unless it were that the noise of the turbulent brook had drowned the sound.
But we had no time either for speculation or contemplation. Both Jack and I instantly took aim—he at the shoulder, as he afterwards told me; I at the monster’s eye, into which, with, I am bound to confess, my usual precipitancy, I discharged both barrels.
The report seemed to have the effect of arousing Peterkin out of his state of fascination, for he sprang up and darted towards us. At the same instant the wounded rhinoceros crossed the spot which he had left with a terrific rush, and bursting through the bushes as if it had been a great rock falling from a mountain cliff, went headlong into the rivulet.
Without moving from the spot on which we stood, we recharged our pieces with a degree of celerity that, I am persuaded, we never before equalled. Peterkin at the same time caught up his rifle, which leaned against a tree hard by, and only a few seconds elapsed after the fall of the monster into the river ere we were upon its banks ready for another shot.
The portion of the bank of the stream at this spot happened to be rather steep, so that the rhinoceros, on regaining his feet, experienced considerable difficulty in the attempts to clamber out, which he made repeatedly and violently on seeing us emerge from among the bushes.
“Let us separate,” said Jack; “it will distract his attention.”
“Stay; you have blown out his eye, Ralph, I do believe,” said Peterkin.
On drawing near to the struggling monster we observed that this was really the case. Blood streamed from the eye into which I had fired, and poured down his hideous jaws, dyeing the water in which he floundered.
“Look out!” cried Jack, springing to the right, in order to get on the animal’s blind side as it succeeded in effecting a landing.
Peterkin instantly sprang in the same direction, while I bounded to the opposite side. I have never been able satisfactorily to decide in my own mind whether this act on my part was performed in consequence of a sudden, almost involuntary, idea that by so doing I should help to distract the creature’s attention, or was the result merely of an accidental impulse. But whatever the cause, the effect was most fortunate; for the rhinoceros at once turned towards me, and thus, being blind in the other eye, lost sight of Jack and Peterkin, who with the rapidity almost of thought leaped close up to its side, and took close aim at the most vulnerable parts of its body. As they were directly opposite to me, I felt that I ran some risk of receiving their fire. But before I had time either to reflect that they could not possibly miss so large an object at so short a distance, or to get out of the way, the report of both their heavy rifles rang through the forest, and the rhinoceros fell dead almost at my feet.
“Hurrah!” shouted Peterkin, throwing his cap into the air at this happy consummation, and sitting down on the haunch of our victim.
“Shame on you, Peterkin,” said I, as I reloaded his rifle for him—“shame on you to crow thus over a fallen foe!”
“Ha, boy! it’s all very well for you to say that now, but you know well enough that you would rather have lost your ears than have missed such a chance as this. But, I say, it’ll puzzle you to stuff that fellow, won’t it?”
“No doubt of it,” answered Jack, as he drew a percussion cap from his pouch, and placed it carefully on the nipple of his rifle. “Ralph will not find it easy; and it’s a pity, too, not to take it home with us, for under a glass case it would make such a pretty and appropriatependant, in his museum, to that interesting frog with which you—”
“Oh, you sneaking eavesdropper!” cried Peterkin, laughing. “It is really too bad that a fellow can’t have a littletête-à-têtewith a friend but you and Ralph must be thrusting your impertinent noses in the way.”
“Not to mention the rhinoceros,” observed Jack.
“Ah! to be sure—the rhinoceros; yes, I might have expected to find you in such low company, for ‘birds of a feather,’ you know, are said to ‘flock together.’”
“If there be any truth in that,” said I, “you are bound, on the same ground, to identify yourself with the frog.”
“By the way,” cried Peterkin, starting up and looking around the spot on which his interestingtête-à-têtehad taken place, “where is the frog? It was just here that—Ah!—oh!—oh! poor, poor frog!
“‘Your course is run, your days are o’er;We’ll never have a chat no more,’
“‘Your course is run, your days are o’er;We’ll never have a chat no more,’
“As Shakespeare has it. Well, well, who would have thought that so conversable and intelligent a creature should have come to such a melancholy end?”
The poor frog had indeed come to a sad and sudden end, and I felt quite sorry for it, although I could not help smiling at my companion’s quaint manner of announcing the fact.
Not being gifted with the activity of Peterkin, it had stood its ground when the rhinoceros charged, and had received an accidental kick from the great foot of that animal which had broken its back and killed it outright.
“There’s one comfort, however,” observed Jack, as we stood over the frog’s body: “you have been saved the disagreeable necessity of killing it yourself, Ralph.”
This was true, and I was not sorry that the rhinoceros had done me this service; for, to say truth, I have ever felt the necessity of killing animals in cold blood to be one of the few disagreeable points in the otherwise delightful life of a naturalist. To shoot animals in the heat and excitement of the chase I have never felt to be particularly repulsive or difficult; but the spearing of an insect, or the deliberate killing of an unresisting frog, are duties which I have ever performed with a feeling of deep self-abhorrence.
Carefully packing my frog in leaves, and placing it in my pouch, I turned with my companions to quit the scene of our late encounter and return to our camp, on arriving at which we purposed sending back Makarooroo to cut off the horn of the rhinoceros; for we agreed that, as it was impossible to carry away the entire carcass, we ought at least to secure the horn as a memorial of our adventure.
Chapter Twenty Three.We see strange things, and give our negro friends the slip.During the two following days we passed through a country that was more thickly covered with the indiarubber vine than any place we had before met with in our African travels. I could not help feeling regret that such a splendid region should be almost, if not altogether, unknown and useless to civilised man. There seemed to be an unlimited supply of caoutchouc; but the natives practised a method of gathering it which had the effect of destroying the vine.One day, some weeks after this, we came upon the habitation of a most remarkable species of monkey, named the Nshiego Mbouve, which we had often heard of, but had not up to that time been so fortunate as to see. Being exceedingly anxious to observe how this remarkable creature made use of its singular house, Peterkin and I lay down near the place, and secreting ourselves in the bushes, patiently awaited the arrival of the monkey, while Jack went off in another direction to procure something for supper.“I don’t believe he’ll come home to-night,” said Peterkin, after we had lain down. “People never do come in when any one chances to be waiting for them. The human race seems to be born to disappointment. Did you never notice, Ralph, how obstinately contrary and cross-grained things go when you want them to go otherwise?”“I don’t quite understand you,” said I.“Of course you don’t. Yours seems to be a mind that can never take anything in unless it is hammered in by repetition.”“Come now, Peterkin, don’t become, yourself, an illustration of your own remark in reference to cross-grained things.”“Well, I won’t. But seriously, Ralph, have you not observed, in the course of your observant life, that when you have particular business with a man, and go to his house or office, you arecertainto find him out, to use the common phrase? It would be more correct, however, to say ‘you are certain not to find him in.’”“You are uncommonly particular, Peterkin.”“Truly I had need to be so, with such an uncommonly stupid audience.”“Thank you. Well?”“Well, have you never observed that if you have occasion to call at a house where you have never been before, the number of that particular house is not in its usual place, and you find it after a search quite away from where it ought to be? Has it never struck you that when you take out your umbrella, the day is certain to become hot and sunny; while, if you omit to carry it with you, it is sure to rain?”“From all of which you conclude,” said I, “that the Nshiego will not come home to-night?”“Exactly so; that is my meaning precisely.”After Peterkin said this, we relapsed into silence; and it was well that we did so, for had we continued our conversation even in the whispering tones in which it had up to that time been conducted, we should have frightened away the ape which now came, as it were, to rebuke Peterkin for his unbelief.Coming quickly forward, the Nshiego Mbouve chambered quickly up the tree where its nest was built. This nest was not a structureintowhich it clambered, but a shelter or canopy formed of boughs with their leaves, somewhat in shape like an umbrella, under which it sat. The construction of this shelter exhibited a good deal of intelligent ingenuity on the part of the ape; for it was tied to the tree by means of wild vines and creepers, and formed a neat, comfortable roof, that was quite capable of shedding the night dews or heavy rains, and thus protecting its occupant.We were greatly amused by the manner in which the creature proceeded to make itself comfortable. Just below the canopy was a small branch which jutted out horizontally from the stem of the tree. On this branch the ape seated itself, its feet and haunches resting thereon. Then it threw one arm round the tree, and hugging that lovingly to its side, gave what appeared to me to be a small sigh of satisfaction, and prepared to go to sleep.At this Peterkin chuckled audibly. The Nshiego’s eyes opened at once. I cocked my gun and took aim. The desire to procure a specimen was very strong within me, but an unconquerable aversion to kill an animal in such cozy circumstances restrained me. The Nshiego got up in alarm. I pointed the gun, but could not fire. It began to descend. I pulled the trigger, and, I am happy to add, missed my aim altogether, to the intense delight of Peterkin, who filled the woods with laughter, while the Nshiego Mbouve, dropping to the ground, ran shrieking from the spot.My forbearance at this time was afterwards repaid by my obtaining two much finer specimens of this shelter-building ape, both of which were killed by Peterkin.On quitting this place we had a narrow escape, the recollection of which still fills me with horror. We were walking rapidly back towards our encampment, chatting as we went, when Peterkin suddenly put his foot on what appeared to be the dead branch of a tree. No sooner had he done so than the curling folds of a black snake fully ten feet long scattered the dry leaves into the air, and caused us both to dart aside with a yell of terror.I have thought that in the complicated and wonderful mechanism of man there lies a species of almost involuntary muscular power which enables him to act in all cases of sudden danger with a degree of prompt celerity that he could not possibly call forth by a direct act of volition. At all events, on the present emergency, without in the least degree knowing what I was about, I brought my gun from my shoulder into a horizontal position, and blew the snake’s head off almost in an instant.I have pondered this subject, and from the fact that while at one time a man may be prompt and courageous in case of sudden danger, at another time the same man may become panic-stricken and helpless, I have come to the conclusion that the all-wise Creator would teach us—even the bravest among us—the lesson of our dependence upon each other, as well as our dependence upon Himself, and would have us know that while at one time we may prove a tower of strength and protection to our friends, at another time our friends may have to afford succour and protection to us.I have often wondered, in reference to this, that many men seem to take pride in bold independence, when it is an obvious fact thateveryman is dependent on his fellow, and that this mutual dependence is one of the chief sources of human happiness.The black snake which I had killed turned out to be one of a very venomous kind, whose bite is said to be fatal, so that we had good cause to be thankful, and to congratulate ourselves on our escape.In this region of Africa we were particularly fortunate in what we saw and encountered, as the narrative of our experiences on the day following the above incidents will show.We had scarcely advanced a few miles on our journey on the morning of that day, when we came upon a part of the country where the natives had constructed a curious sort of trap for catching wild animals; and it happened that a large band of natives were on the point of setting out for a grand hunt at that time.We were greeted with immense delight on our arrival, for those natives, we soon discovered, had already heard of our exploits in the lands of the gorilla, and regarded us as the greatest hunters that had ever been born. After a short conversation with the chief, through the medium of Makarooroo, we arranged to rest there a day, and accompany them on their hunting expedition; and the better to secure their good will, we presented some of the head men with a few of the beads which we still possessed. Then hauling our canoe out of the water, we prepared ourselves for the chase.After a long and tedious march through somewhat dense jungle, we came upon the ground, which was partly open, partly clothed with trees and shrubs. Here the natives, who numbered several hundreds, spread themselves out in a long semicircular line, in order to drive the game into the trap.As we followed them, or rather formed part of the line, I overheard the following conversation between Peterkin and Makarooroo, who chanced to be together.“Now, Mak,” said the former, examining the caps of his rifle, “explain to me what sort of trap this is that we’re coming to, and what sort of brutes we may expect to find in it.”“De trap, massa,” replied our faithful follower, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth—“de trap am be callhopo—”“Called what-o?” inquired Peterkin.“Hopo.”“Oh! go on.”“An’ hims be made ob great number oh sticks tumble down—an’ hole at de end ob dat; an’ de beasties dat goes in be zebros, elosphants, eelands, buff’los, gaffs, nocrices, noos, an’ great more noders ob which me forgit de names.”“Oh! you forgit de names, do you?”“Yis, massa.”“Ah! it wouldn’t be a great loss, Mak, if you were to forget the names of those you remember.”The conversation was interrupted at this point by the appearance of a buffalo, which showed that we were drawing near to the scene of action. But as Makarooroo’s description is not remarkable for lucidity, I may explain here that the hopo, or trap, consists of two parts; one part may be termed the conducting hedges, the other the pit at their termination, and into which the game is driven. The conducting hedges are formed in the shape of the letter V. At the narrow extremity there is a narrow lane, at the end of which is the terminating pit. This pit is about eight feet deep and fifteen feet broad, and its edges are made to overlap in such a way that once the animals are in it, they have no chance whatever of getting out again. The surface of the pit is concealed by a thin crust of green rushes, and the hedges are sometimes a mile long, and nearly the same width apart at the outer extremities.We were still a considerable distance from the outer ends of the hedges, when the natives spread out as above described, and I am convinced that our line extended over at least four miles of ground. The circle, of course, narrowed as they advanced, shouting wildly, in order to drive the game into the enclosure.That the country was teeming with game soon became apparent, for ever and anon as we advanced a herd of gnus or buffaloes or hartbeests would dart affrighted from their cover, and sweep over the open ground into another place of shelter, out of which they were again driven as the line advanced. In the course of half an hour we drove out hartbeests, zebras, gnus, buffaloes, giraffes, rhinoceroses, and many other kinds of smaller game, either singly or in herds.“Now, lads,” said Jack, approaching Peterkin and me as we walked together, “it is quite evident that if we wish to see this sport in perfection we must get outside the hedge, and run along towards the pit; for there, in the natural course of things, we may expect the grand climax. What say you? Shall we go?”“Agreed,” said I.“Ditto,” cried Peterkin.So without more words we turned aside, followed by Makarooroo, leaped the hedge, and running down along it soon reached the edge of the pit.Here we found a number of the natives assembled with spears, looking eagerly through the interstices of the hedges in expectation of the advancing herds. We took up our stand on a convenient spot, and prepared to wait patiently. But our patience was not severely tried. We had not been more than five minutes stationed when the noise of the closing line was heard, and a herd of buffaloes dashed wildly out from a small piece of jungle in which they had sought shelter, and galloped over the plain towards us. Suddenly they halted, and stood for a moment snuffing the air, as if uncertain what to do; while we could see, even at that distance, that every muscle of their bodies trembled with mingled rage and terror. Before they could decide, a herd of gnus burst from the same place; and presently a dozen zebras galloped out, tossing up their heels and heads in magnificent indignation. These last scattered, and approached the hedges; which caused several natives to dart into the enclosure, who from beneath the shelter of oval shields as large as themselves, threw their spears with unerring certainty into the sides of the terrified creatures.At this moment there was a general rush from the scattered groups of trees and clumps of jungle, for the animals were now maddened with terror, not only at the shouts of their human persecutors, but at their own wild cries and the increasing thunder of their tread.The shouting and tumult now became excessive. It was almost bewildering. I looked round upon the faces of the negroes nearest to me. They seemed to be almost insane with suppressed excitement, and their dark faces worked in a manner that was quite awful to witness.Presently there was a general and indiscriminate rush of all kinds of wild animals towards the narrow end of the hopo. The natives pressed in upon them with wild cries. Spears flew in all directions. Ere long the plain was covered with wounded animals struggling and bellowing in their death-agonies. As the rushing multitude drew nearer to the fatal pit, they became crowded together, and now the men near us began to play their part.“Look out, Jack!” I cried, as a buffalo bull with glaring eyes and foaming jaws made a desperate effort to leap over the barrier in our very faces.Jack raised his rifle and fired; at the same instant a spear was sent into the buffalo’s breast, and it fell back to form a stumbling-block in the way of the rushing mass.The report of the rifle caused the whole herd to swerve from our side so violently that they bore down the other side, until I began to fear the hedge would give way altogether; but they were met by the spears and the furious yells of the natives there, and again swept on towards the narrow lane.And now the head of the bellowing mass came to the edge of the pit. Those in front seemed to suspect danger, for they halted suddenly; but the rush of those behind forced them on. In another moment the thin covering gave way, and a literal cataract of huge living creatures went surging down into the abyss.The scene that followed was terrible to witness; and I could not regard it with other than feelings of intense horror, despite my knowledge of the fact that a large tribe of natives depended on the game then slain for their necessary food. The maddened animals attempted to leap out of the pit, but the overlapping edges already referred to effectually prevented this until the falling torrent filled it up; then some of them succeeded in leaping out from off the backs of their smothered comrades. These, however, were quickly met and speared by the natives, while ever and anon the great mass was upheaved by the frantic struggles of some gigantic creature that was being smothered at the bottom.While this scene of wholesale destruction was going on, Makarooroo came up to me and begged me, with mysterious looks, to follow him out of the crowd.I obeyed, and when we had got away from the immediate neighbourhood of the turmoil, I said,—“Well, Mak, what’s wrong?”“De chief, massa, hims tell me few moments ago dat canoe wid Mbango and oomans hab pass dis way to-morrow.”“To-morrow!” I exclaimed.“No, me forgit; hab pass yistumday.”“Indeed!”“Yis, an’ de chief hims say hims want us to stop wid him and go hunt for week or two. P’raps he no let us go ’way.”“That’s just possible, Mak. Have you told Jack?”“No, massa.”“Then go bring him and Peterkin hither at once.”In a few minutes my companions were with me, and we held a brief earnest consultation as to what we should do.“I think we should tell the chief we are anxious to be off at once, and leave him on good terms,” said I.Peterkin objected to this. “No,” said he; “we cannot easily explain why we are anxious to be off so hastily. I counsel flight. They won’t find out that we are gone until it is too late to follow.”Jack agreed with this view, so of course I gave in, though I could not in my heart approve of such a method of sneaking away. But our guide seemed also to be exceedingly anxious to be off, so we decided; and slipping quietly away under the shelter of the hedge, while the natives were still busy with their bloody work, we soon gained the forest. Here we had no difficulty in retracing our steps to the village, where, having picked up our little companion, Njamie’s son, who had been left to play with the little boys of the place, we embarked, swept down the stream, and were soon far beyond the chance of pursuit.
During the two following days we passed through a country that was more thickly covered with the indiarubber vine than any place we had before met with in our African travels. I could not help feeling regret that such a splendid region should be almost, if not altogether, unknown and useless to civilised man. There seemed to be an unlimited supply of caoutchouc; but the natives practised a method of gathering it which had the effect of destroying the vine.
One day, some weeks after this, we came upon the habitation of a most remarkable species of monkey, named the Nshiego Mbouve, which we had often heard of, but had not up to that time been so fortunate as to see. Being exceedingly anxious to observe how this remarkable creature made use of its singular house, Peterkin and I lay down near the place, and secreting ourselves in the bushes, patiently awaited the arrival of the monkey, while Jack went off in another direction to procure something for supper.
“I don’t believe he’ll come home to-night,” said Peterkin, after we had lain down. “People never do come in when any one chances to be waiting for them. The human race seems to be born to disappointment. Did you never notice, Ralph, how obstinately contrary and cross-grained things go when you want them to go otherwise?”
“I don’t quite understand you,” said I.
“Of course you don’t. Yours seems to be a mind that can never take anything in unless it is hammered in by repetition.”
“Come now, Peterkin, don’t become, yourself, an illustration of your own remark in reference to cross-grained things.”
“Well, I won’t. But seriously, Ralph, have you not observed, in the course of your observant life, that when you have particular business with a man, and go to his house or office, you arecertainto find him out, to use the common phrase? It would be more correct, however, to say ‘you are certain not to find him in.’”
“You are uncommonly particular, Peterkin.”
“Truly I had need to be so, with such an uncommonly stupid audience.”
“Thank you. Well?”
“Well, have you never observed that if you have occasion to call at a house where you have never been before, the number of that particular house is not in its usual place, and you find it after a search quite away from where it ought to be? Has it never struck you that when you take out your umbrella, the day is certain to become hot and sunny; while, if you omit to carry it with you, it is sure to rain?”
“From all of which you conclude,” said I, “that the Nshiego will not come home to-night?”
“Exactly so; that is my meaning precisely.”
After Peterkin said this, we relapsed into silence; and it was well that we did so, for had we continued our conversation even in the whispering tones in which it had up to that time been conducted, we should have frightened away the ape which now came, as it were, to rebuke Peterkin for his unbelief.
Coming quickly forward, the Nshiego Mbouve chambered quickly up the tree where its nest was built. This nest was not a structureintowhich it clambered, but a shelter or canopy formed of boughs with their leaves, somewhat in shape like an umbrella, under which it sat. The construction of this shelter exhibited a good deal of intelligent ingenuity on the part of the ape; for it was tied to the tree by means of wild vines and creepers, and formed a neat, comfortable roof, that was quite capable of shedding the night dews or heavy rains, and thus protecting its occupant.
We were greatly amused by the manner in which the creature proceeded to make itself comfortable. Just below the canopy was a small branch which jutted out horizontally from the stem of the tree. On this branch the ape seated itself, its feet and haunches resting thereon. Then it threw one arm round the tree, and hugging that lovingly to its side, gave what appeared to me to be a small sigh of satisfaction, and prepared to go to sleep.
At this Peterkin chuckled audibly. The Nshiego’s eyes opened at once. I cocked my gun and took aim. The desire to procure a specimen was very strong within me, but an unconquerable aversion to kill an animal in such cozy circumstances restrained me. The Nshiego got up in alarm. I pointed the gun, but could not fire. It began to descend. I pulled the trigger, and, I am happy to add, missed my aim altogether, to the intense delight of Peterkin, who filled the woods with laughter, while the Nshiego Mbouve, dropping to the ground, ran shrieking from the spot.
My forbearance at this time was afterwards repaid by my obtaining two much finer specimens of this shelter-building ape, both of which were killed by Peterkin.
On quitting this place we had a narrow escape, the recollection of which still fills me with horror. We were walking rapidly back towards our encampment, chatting as we went, when Peterkin suddenly put his foot on what appeared to be the dead branch of a tree. No sooner had he done so than the curling folds of a black snake fully ten feet long scattered the dry leaves into the air, and caused us both to dart aside with a yell of terror.
I have thought that in the complicated and wonderful mechanism of man there lies a species of almost involuntary muscular power which enables him to act in all cases of sudden danger with a degree of prompt celerity that he could not possibly call forth by a direct act of volition. At all events, on the present emergency, without in the least degree knowing what I was about, I brought my gun from my shoulder into a horizontal position, and blew the snake’s head off almost in an instant.
I have pondered this subject, and from the fact that while at one time a man may be prompt and courageous in case of sudden danger, at another time the same man may become panic-stricken and helpless, I have come to the conclusion that the all-wise Creator would teach us—even the bravest among us—the lesson of our dependence upon each other, as well as our dependence upon Himself, and would have us know that while at one time we may prove a tower of strength and protection to our friends, at another time our friends may have to afford succour and protection to us.
I have often wondered, in reference to this, that many men seem to take pride in bold independence, when it is an obvious fact thateveryman is dependent on his fellow, and that this mutual dependence is one of the chief sources of human happiness.
The black snake which I had killed turned out to be one of a very venomous kind, whose bite is said to be fatal, so that we had good cause to be thankful, and to congratulate ourselves on our escape.
In this region of Africa we were particularly fortunate in what we saw and encountered, as the narrative of our experiences on the day following the above incidents will show.
We had scarcely advanced a few miles on our journey on the morning of that day, when we came upon a part of the country where the natives had constructed a curious sort of trap for catching wild animals; and it happened that a large band of natives were on the point of setting out for a grand hunt at that time.
We were greeted with immense delight on our arrival, for those natives, we soon discovered, had already heard of our exploits in the lands of the gorilla, and regarded us as the greatest hunters that had ever been born. After a short conversation with the chief, through the medium of Makarooroo, we arranged to rest there a day, and accompany them on their hunting expedition; and the better to secure their good will, we presented some of the head men with a few of the beads which we still possessed. Then hauling our canoe out of the water, we prepared ourselves for the chase.
After a long and tedious march through somewhat dense jungle, we came upon the ground, which was partly open, partly clothed with trees and shrubs. Here the natives, who numbered several hundreds, spread themselves out in a long semicircular line, in order to drive the game into the trap.
As we followed them, or rather formed part of the line, I overheard the following conversation between Peterkin and Makarooroo, who chanced to be together.
“Now, Mak,” said the former, examining the caps of his rifle, “explain to me what sort of trap this is that we’re coming to, and what sort of brutes we may expect to find in it.”
“De trap, massa,” replied our faithful follower, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth—“de trap am be callhopo—”
“Called what-o?” inquired Peterkin.
“Hopo.”
“Oh! go on.”
“An’ hims be made ob great number oh sticks tumble down—an’ hole at de end ob dat; an’ de beasties dat goes in be zebros, elosphants, eelands, buff’los, gaffs, nocrices, noos, an’ great more noders ob which me forgit de names.”
“Oh! you forgit de names, do you?”
“Yis, massa.”
“Ah! it wouldn’t be a great loss, Mak, if you were to forget the names of those you remember.”
The conversation was interrupted at this point by the appearance of a buffalo, which showed that we were drawing near to the scene of action. But as Makarooroo’s description is not remarkable for lucidity, I may explain here that the hopo, or trap, consists of two parts; one part may be termed the conducting hedges, the other the pit at their termination, and into which the game is driven. The conducting hedges are formed in the shape of the letter V. At the narrow extremity there is a narrow lane, at the end of which is the terminating pit. This pit is about eight feet deep and fifteen feet broad, and its edges are made to overlap in such a way that once the animals are in it, they have no chance whatever of getting out again. The surface of the pit is concealed by a thin crust of green rushes, and the hedges are sometimes a mile long, and nearly the same width apart at the outer extremities.
We were still a considerable distance from the outer ends of the hedges, when the natives spread out as above described, and I am convinced that our line extended over at least four miles of ground. The circle, of course, narrowed as they advanced, shouting wildly, in order to drive the game into the enclosure.
That the country was teeming with game soon became apparent, for ever and anon as we advanced a herd of gnus or buffaloes or hartbeests would dart affrighted from their cover, and sweep over the open ground into another place of shelter, out of which they were again driven as the line advanced. In the course of half an hour we drove out hartbeests, zebras, gnus, buffaloes, giraffes, rhinoceroses, and many other kinds of smaller game, either singly or in herds.
“Now, lads,” said Jack, approaching Peterkin and me as we walked together, “it is quite evident that if we wish to see this sport in perfection we must get outside the hedge, and run along towards the pit; for there, in the natural course of things, we may expect the grand climax. What say you? Shall we go?”
“Agreed,” said I.
“Ditto,” cried Peterkin.
So without more words we turned aside, followed by Makarooroo, leaped the hedge, and running down along it soon reached the edge of the pit.
Here we found a number of the natives assembled with spears, looking eagerly through the interstices of the hedges in expectation of the advancing herds. We took up our stand on a convenient spot, and prepared to wait patiently. But our patience was not severely tried. We had not been more than five minutes stationed when the noise of the closing line was heard, and a herd of buffaloes dashed wildly out from a small piece of jungle in which they had sought shelter, and galloped over the plain towards us. Suddenly they halted, and stood for a moment snuffing the air, as if uncertain what to do; while we could see, even at that distance, that every muscle of their bodies trembled with mingled rage and terror. Before they could decide, a herd of gnus burst from the same place; and presently a dozen zebras galloped out, tossing up their heels and heads in magnificent indignation. These last scattered, and approached the hedges; which caused several natives to dart into the enclosure, who from beneath the shelter of oval shields as large as themselves, threw their spears with unerring certainty into the sides of the terrified creatures.
At this moment there was a general rush from the scattered groups of trees and clumps of jungle, for the animals were now maddened with terror, not only at the shouts of their human persecutors, but at their own wild cries and the increasing thunder of their tread.
The shouting and tumult now became excessive. It was almost bewildering. I looked round upon the faces of the negroes nearest to me. They seemed to be almost insane with suppressed excitement, and their dark faces worked in a manner that was quite awful to witness.
Presently there was a general and indiscriminate rush of all kinds of wild animals towards the narrow end of the hopo. The natives pressed in upon them with wild cries. Spears flew in all directions. Ere long the plain was covered with wounded animals struggling and bellowing in their death-agonies. As the rushing multitude drew nearer to the fatal pit, they became crowded together, and now the men near us began to play their part.
“Look out, Jack!” I cried, as a buffalo bull with glaring eyes and foaming jaws made a desperate effort to leap over the barrier in our very faces.
Jack raised his rifle and fired; at the same instant a spear was sent into the buffalo’s breast, and it fell back to form a stumbling-block in the way of the rushing mass.
The report of the rifle caused the whole herd to swerve from our side so violently that they bore down the other side, until I began to fear the hedge would give way altogether; but they were met by the spears and the furious yells of the natives there, and again swept on towards the narrow lane.
And now the head of the bellowing mass came to the edge of the pit. Those in front seemed to suspect danger, for they halted suddenly; but the rush of those behind forced them on. In another moment the thin covering gave way, and a literal cataract of huge living creatures went surging down into the abyss.
The scene that followed was terrible to witness; and I could not regard it with other than feelings of intense horror, despite my knowledge of the fact that a large tribe of natives depended on the game then slain for their necessary food. The maddened animals attempted to leap out of the pit, but the overlapping edges already referred to effectually prevented this until the falling torrent filled it up; then some of them succeeded in leaping out from off the backs of their smothered comrades. These, however, were quickly met and speared by the natives, while ever and anon the great mass was upheaved by the frantic struggles of some gigantic creature that was being smothered at the bottom.
While this scene of wholesale destruction was going on, Makarooroo came up to me and begged me, with mysterious looks, to follow him out of the crowd.
I obeyed, and when we had got away from the immediate neighbourhood of the turmoil, I said,—“Well, Mak, what’s wrong?”
“De chief, massa, hims tell me few moments ago dat canoe wid Mbango and oomans hab pass dis way to-morrow.”
“To-morrow!” I exclaimed.
“No, me forgit; hab pass yistumday.”
“Indeed!”
“Yis, an’ de chief hims say hims want us to stop wid him and go hunt for week or two. P’raps he no let us go ’way.”
“That’s just possible, Mak. Have you told Jack?”
“No, massa.”
“Then go bring him and Peterkin hither at once.”
In a few minutes my companions were with me, and we held a brief earnest consultation as to what we should do.
“I think we should tell the chief we are anxious to be off at once, and leave him on good terms,” said I.
Peterkin objected to this. “No,” said he; “we cannot easily explain why we are anxious to be off so hastily. I counsel flight. They won’t find out that we are gone until it is too late to follow.”
Jack agreed with this view, so of course I gave in, though I could not in my heart approve of such a method of sneaking away. But our guide seemed also to be exceedingly anxious to be off, so we decided; and slipping quietly away under the shelter of the hedge, while the natives were still busy with their bloody work, we soon gained the forest. Here we had no difficulty in retracing our steps to the village, where, having picked up our little companion, Njamie’s son, who had been left to play with the little boys of the place, we embarked, swept down the stream, and were soon far beyond the chance of pursuit.