Some time after Dane's departure, a smartly uniformed hammock train approached Dom Pedro's factory. That worthy ceased his leisurely pacing up and down the veranda, and watched the bearers wind out from the steamy shadow with ill-concealed anxiety, hoping that he might be mistaken. Then as they came on at a steady trot with the poles of the lurching hammock upon their woolly crowns, he stamped on the flooring; and even a sleepy Krooboy started at his vivid maledictions. There was no longer room for doubt that he was about to be honored by a visit from his former partner, Monsieur Victor Rideau, and it was very evident that Dom Pedro was not pleased to see him. His sister, a portly lady, of doubtful age, sat in a shady corner of the veranda, but she passed much of her time in Africa in peaceful slumber, and was now asleep as usual—or appeared so.
"It is too hot for anger, father," a voice said; and Dom Pedro, turning, saw his daughter leaning languidly over the balustrade. She, too, was watching the hammock with a curious expression.
"There is good cause!" Dom Pedro answered, cutting short his flow of expletives. "This Rideau comes another time to torment me. Why is it that when so many honest men die up yonder this one should always come back safely?"
"He will not always do so. Some day he, too, will be lost in the forest," said Bonita quietly; and the man glanced at her with hope in his eyes, for several of his daughter's predictions had curiously been fulfilled. This may have been due to coincidence, or a shrewd calculation of probabilities; but Dom Pedro, having lived long in a land where occult influences are believed in, was not free from superstition.
"I would send half, or at least a third, of all I have, to the hospital in Lisboa if that were so," he declared. "Niña, you speak as though you knew."
Bonita laughed a little, though there was anxiety in her face.
"Padre, one might doubt the efficacy of such a bribe. Perhaps I do. It is money he wants, as usual?"
"Yes." There was a certain hesitation in the man's answer which did not escape his daughter. "It is, of course, the silver, and I have not much to give him. You have no regard for this Rideau, niña?"
Bonita's face was a study. Anger, loathing, and the faintest trace of fear were stamped upon it.
"Regard! I have only hatred forel perro!"
The emphasis on the last word was significant: while it means simply dog, and is used on occasion to designate a person jestingly, the Castilian can, by change of inflection, make it imply a rabid cur of the lowest degree; and Bonita used the epithet in that manner.
Dom Pedro raised his shoulders, and drew in his breath. He was slightly afraid of his daughter; but, unfortunately for them both, he was more afraid of Rideau, and he did not look at her when he spoke again.
"It is strange the Señor Dane did not return for thebook he left, since it shows the path through the forests of Shaillu's country, and he cannot find his way without it."
Bonita smiled upon him pityingly.
"You do not know those men as I do. They plan all from the beginning and leave nothing to chance. The Señor Maxwell is a man of system, and he will have safe in his memory all the book could tell him."
"They are a curious people," observed Dom Pedro dryly. "One of those two, however, was surely a trifle blind."
A faint trace of color crept into Bonita's face.
"It is time for you to receive your guest," she said.
Dom Pedro did so with the utmost cordiality, his hat in his hand, and the two men—one of whom despised the other, who feared and hated him—expressed their mutual delight at the meeting with great effusiveness. Bonita Castro watched them meanwhile from a green latticed window, and shivered a little, though the day was as hot as it usually is at that season in West Africa. She slipped her fingers under the laces at her breast, and her face was not attractive when they touched a little piece of wrought silver. It was not a mere adornment, for there was a slender blade of steel attached to it. Again she said, with an intensity of detestation: "El perro!"
Dom Pedro played chess and discoursed upon the shortcomings of their rulers with his guest all afternoon, and the five o'clockcomidahad been eaten before either hinted that Rideau could have any possible motive for his visit beyond the pleasure of seeing his former partner. Time has no great value to men of Latin extraction in the tropics; and it is possible that one of them foundpleasure in prolonging the other's anxiety. At last, when they sat out on the veranda, the visitor, lighting a maize husk cigarette, thrust his wineglass away.
"It is always a gratification to see my old friend Dom Pedro, and I have traveled a long way to give myself that pleasure," he observed; and his host, knowing how much this was worth, braced himself to meet what should follow. "Being here, there is, however, a little affair we can discuss together. I have an opportunity for a small investment to lay before you."
"I am honored, but trade is very bad, and silver scanty," Dom Pedro said hastily. "I have received no profits yet on the last venture."
Rideau spread out his palms deprecatingly.
"They are very dishonest men up yonder in the bush, as you, my friend, should know, and have robbed me shamefully; while it was but an hour since I rejoiced at your prosperity. I saw the cloth and gin sheds empty—and they were full not long ago."
Dom Pedro groaned inwardly, but attempted a show of resolution.
"I repeat that trade is bad. It is, I fear, impossible to oblige even you."
Rideau laughed a little, but his merriment was akin to mockery.
"I can only hope you are mistaken, and this time there will be a profit. There is also another affair I would discuss with you. I am a man with a conscience, and something we are concerned in up in the bush country troubles me. It is told me that these troublesome English make protest with the Administration that when the Emir invaded their dominions his men carried good rifles which could only have been obtainedfrom this colony. The Captain Oger stated publicly that it is a stain on the national honor, and there will be strict inquiry. I am a good friend of Dom Pedro, but first of all patriotic Frenchman, me."
There was no need to speak more plainly, because Dom Pedro understood him thoroughly, and inquired forthwith the lowest sum that would set his visitor's uneasy conscience at rest. Rideau promptly named it; and the Portuguese, being desirous of gaining time, shook his head.
"It is impossible. I also have considered about those rifles often," he said. "Now I think it would be better for me, being an innocent man, to explain to the Administration how the Emir robbed me."
Rideau was not in the least deceived, for he smiled sardonically.
"Is it not a little late, my friend, and the Commandant is a most suspicious man. It is possible he might not believe you, and it is not permitted to arm even one's carriers for protection with rifles; while there is in existence a scroll signed by the Emir and another which shows a voluntary sale. But you say what I ask is impossible. Well, I'll consider, and to-morrow may make a more feasible offer. The last time I came you entertained the sick comrade of the Englishman Maxwell. He has not given you any information about Niven's mine?"
"He did not," said Dom Pedro, with so much earnestness that Rideau did not believe him, and dismissing the subject, airily proposed another game of chess.
The next morning, Dom Pedro, being perhaps anxious to postpone the evil moment, set out for a bush village where he stated he had business; and his guest,feeling sure of his own position, was not wholly sorry to see him go. It would allow him to enjoy Miss Castro's society undisturbed, and also, if circumstances permitted, to glance through the books in her father's office, which he had long desired to do, with a view to discovering how far the man might be taxed. Dom Pedro was not a good bookkeeper, it is true, but his late partner understood his system, or rather the lack of it.
An opportunity did not present itself until all the occupants of the factory had apparently retired, as usual, to sleep in the coolest place they could find during the heat which follows noon. Rideau slipped into the iron-roofed room where Dom Pedro kept his accounts. As it happened, however, Bonita was rather more wide-awake than usual, and shortly afterward she also entered the office, to find her guest glancing into a big folio with evident interest. He was in no way disconcerted, and smiled upon her affably.
"There was a difference in the weight of the last gums I sent down," he explained. "I would find the entry before I speak to Dom Pedro."
Bonita Castro was quick of wit.
"Then, as I help my father with the accounts, you will give me the details," she said.
Rideau's inventive genius was apparently unequal to the task, for he bowed ceremoniously.
"It is impossible to consider any question of business in the brightness of the señorita's presence."
Miss Castro laughed.
"You have my full permission. Now, as regards this gum?"
Rideau seated himself languidly.
"I am a man of affairs, but I have also sensibility, and shall I trouble the señorita about a bag of gum? To touch those dusty books is a desecration to her fingers."
"Still, it is of business I wish to talk to you, and you will give me your attention, señor," said the girl. "You have the power to cause my father some anxiety."
Rideau leaned forward a little in his chair.
"It is true, but I am too devoted a servant of the señorita's to wish to do so. It is for her sake I have concealed an indiscretion of Dom Pedro's which would excite the anger of the Administration. As I have said, I would do very much to win the señorita's approval."
"But this is very little, and Dom Pedro pays you well," returned the girl. "The Commandant, who is not a friend of yours, might not credit your story if you told it to him."
Rideau smiled significantly.
"It is very little for me to do if it pleases the señorita; but it is much for Dom Pedro. You will know there is provided confiscation and banishment, and even a worse penalty, for selling the Indigene modern rifles, and I have therefore carefully hidden the Emir's agreement and safe conduct made in the Arabic when he is at war with this colony. It is misfortune that Dom Pedro has written his name to it."
Bonita Castro felt a chill run through her, though her face was calm. The man had shown his power plainly, but the desire in his eyes, as he watched her, caused her greater uneasiness. She could, she fancied, see the African nature beneath the indifferent veneer of civilization, and she trembled, knowing that under sufficientpressure her father might be capable of selling more than forbidden rifles. Therefore, even if she had no other motive, it was of the first necessity to lessen that power.
"Such generosity should not go unrewarded," she said. "You have long desired the gold you think the Englishman Niven found, but, unless I help you, you will never discover it. Even the man with the cross on his forehead does not know where the river lies. What would you give for a map showing Niven's road through the Leopards' country? It is so plain that a child could understand it."
Rideau's eyes glistened, but he was cautious.
"There is only one man who can have such a book; and I know he would never part with it."
Bonita laughed.
"Yes—the Señor Maxwell. You know he would not part with it? Then you have tried and failed to obtain it from him? The Señor Maxwell is a very clever man. Nevertheless, I have the map. Would you recognize that it was genuine if I showed it to you?"
Rideau rose carelessly, and strolled toward the window. There was nobody on that side of the veranda—the compound lay empty under the pitiless heat below, and a slumbrous silence pervaded the factory. There was a change in him when he turned toward the girl, who held out an unfolded paper so that he could see a portion of it. The man was usually cunning, but it was not without results that he had inherited a strain of native blood, and now the instincts of the savage rose uppermost. Brute passion and unreasoning avarice were stamped on his face. He had hitherto made his admiration for the girl very plain, and had accepted herrebuffs with the serenity of one strong enough to wait. Now, however, his companion conceived it possible that he intended to retain his hold upon Dom Pedro and secure the map as well. It was her person he desired, and whether her good will accompanied it or not was probably immaterial.
"The sun has dazzled my eyes, and you will give it to me for near examination," he said, and his voice was husky. When she made a gesture of negation, he halted close in front of her with the veins on his forehead swollen, and one big, dusky hand partly raised.
Bonita Castro had not studied the native character profitlessly, and she knew that very little was required to cause those fingers—and they were the fingers of a negro—to fasten upon her shoulders, or even about her throat; but she had arranged accordingly. She clapped her hands sharply, and Rideau let his arm drop to his side when a patter of bare feet drew nearer along the veranda. A huge muscular Krooman in white uniform stood in the doorway, and the girl smiled a little.
"Call Andres, Pobrecito. Tell him to bring the wine and the last of the steamer ice; but stay there on the veranda yourself. I may want you. It is so hot that you will not refuse if I offer you refreshment, señor?" she said.
Rideau's lips twitched a little, and his face was greasy, but the look of the African had faded from it, and he might have passed for a native of southern France when he bowed.
"Who could refuse anything offered by the señorita?"
The wine was brought, and the man, who a few moments earlier might have posed for a study of avarice and passion debased to ferocity, smiled as he comparedhis companion's eyes to the sparkling ocean when he raised his glass. Then, while the big negro squatted just outside the doorway, Miss Castro read extracts from the notes on the back of the map.
"This would be very valuable to a bold man," she said. "What would you give for it? It is no use offering a small thing."
"I would give"—the man hesitated—"I would even give the agreement in Arabic signed by Dom Pedro and the Emir!"
"Then it is yours," said Bonita Castro. "Now it is too hot for further business, even the underweighed gum. You may sit there and tell me of your adventures in the bush country."
Rideau had a large share of vanity, inherited from both parents, and he was in no wise reluctant; if Miss Castro failed to believe all he told her she did not say so. Indeed, she made the man feel that she accepted him as a hero, and fooled him so tactfully that he was several times on the brink of making confidences which might have jeopardized his plans. Fortunately for himself, however, he reflected in time, and did not do so. When at last he withdrew, Miss Castro walked somewhat limply to her room, and sank down into a basket chair in the manner of one who has undergone a heavy nervous strain. Her aunt found her there presently, and placed a hand caressingly on her shoulder as she bent over her.
"This Rideau is a bad man. He has terrified you?" she said compassionately.
"No." The girl's voice trembled, though she smiled. "No, I hardly feared the cur. I have sent him to his own destruction. It is my own sin I fear. I havebetrayed the man who trusted me; but still I do not think he will suffer from my treachery."
The elder lady shook off her somnolent expression, and nodded sagaciously.
"The big Englishman who was sick?—I comprehend," she said. "I do not ask questions; but take comfort if it was for your father, niña. Also, that Englishman is not clever, but he is very stubborn and strong, and I do not think it will be well for Rideau if he interferes with him."
When Miss Castro found Dom Pedro alone in his sweltering office that night she said to him: "Here is a present, father. I have drawn the dog's teeth."
Dom Pedro's eyes glistened as he clutched at the scroll handed him, then, though he first burned it over the lamp, his forehead grew furrowed, and his jaw fell.
"The cur may have other teeth left, and is of the blood of the African," he said. "Twice I repulsed him when he spoke of marriage. Little one, you have not sold yourself for this?"
The man positively quivered with impatience, but the girl laughed.
"No. I have sold him the blind Englishman. Rideau has the map that belonged to the Señor Maxwell."
"Thanks be to heaven!" Dom Pedro exclaimed piously; but his sallow face grew grave again. "It is a great deliverance, but it is not well to make one's profit from the blood of white men. This Rideau, who is very cunning, will follow and bring disaster upon the Englishmen up yonder. Already, I have suffered many things because of the black men the Emir stole from me."
Bonita's eyes shone.
"You do not see clearly, father, or know the manner of those other men. What is it to me if these strangers do not find the gold—but I would not have them die. I have been in their country, and if the cur dog follows, plotting treachery, as I think he will, the Señor Maxwell will surely kill him."
"Ojala!Heaven send it so," murmured Dom Pedro, and would have embraced his daughter, but that, shrinking from him, she slipped out into the moonlit veranda. The little olive-faced gentleman stood staring at the papers before him, and hoping that it might come about as she had predicted.
Maxwell expressed his approval of the recruits Dane brought in, for Dom Pedro had chosen well. They were sturdy, woolly-haired Kroomen from Liberia who had gained some experience of forest warfare in petty skirmishes with the troops of the black republic. It is noticeable that the untamed African cherishes little love for his partly civilized brother. When he had harangued them, the two white men sat talking together.
"I would give a good deal to know what is in Dom Pedro's mind just now," said Maxwell. "It is quite possible that the offer he made you was genuine. There is, if one may say it without appealing to your vanity, a certain air of solidity and force about you which might appeal to a man of his type who could supply all the finesse necessary—and who possesses a troublesome enemy. The map would in any case be of little use to Dom Pedro, who would never venture into the Leopards' country; and I hardly fancy he would give it to Rideau. In the meantime our own program is clear. We start again at sunrise to-morrow."
"Are you not taking too much for granted when you assume that Dom Pedro has the map?" asked Dane; and Maxwell smiled enigmatically but did not answer.
A few days later they halted at sunset beside a stream which, contrary to the custom of most African rivers,flowed clear as crystal over yellow sand. Wooded hills whose hollows were filled with drifting steam sloped steeply upward from the opposite bank, and the black shadow of a few palms lengthened across the grass behind the waiting men. There was nothing remarkable about the river or its surroundings; but heathen, missionary convert, and dusky Moslem alike shrank back murmuring from its bank.
"This is our Rubicon, and beyond it lies the Leopards' country," said Maxwell. "It is not a very imposing stream, but I believe no white man has ever crossed it without suffering from his rashness, since the days of the early Portuguese. Something has evidently startled the boys. As I partly expected, here it is."
Maxwell pointed to a slender wand set up beside the bank. A tuft of reddened rags was tied to it, and beneath them hung a piece of sun-dried clay rudely modeled into the resemblance of a leopard.
"I would rather have seen fifty men with flint-locks than this trumpery thing," he declared. "You don't quite grasp its significance, Hilton? Well, in this land anything may be made the emblem of the Ju-ju, and that is the insignia of a powerful one I have alluded to several times already."
"I could never understand what a Ju-ju is."
"Very few white men do, but its ministers are a force to reckon with; and this piece of clay signifies that many unpleasant things, varying from slow poisoning to death by violence, may happen to the man who disregards it. You can see that the boys are afraid of it."
"We can't stay here forever because some benighted heathen has tied it to a stick," expostulated Dane. "Here's a challenge to the powers of darkness. Watchand try to understand, you boy! If them thing be no fit to hurt me, it can't hurt you. That's logic, or, as you say, the Lord he give me sense too much, isn't it?"
The eyes of the spectators grew wide with horror as, snapping the wand across his knee, he next crushed the leopard beneath his heel; and there was a heavy silence while they waited to see what would follow this bold defiance of the forest deity. So real was their terror, and the hush so impressive, that Dane felt his own heart beating faster than it generally did, and when he laughed the laugh rang hollow. But nothing unusual happened; and with murmurs of relief the men followed him as he splashed through the ford.
"It was necessary," said Maxwell with noticeable gravity. "Nevertheless, we will double our sentries henceforward, and recharge our filters. There is no doubt that the powers of darkness will take up your challenge."
They pitched camp among the cottonwoods at the mouth of a ravine, and, when they had eaten, sat for a time within their little tent poring over a map issued privately for the use of French officials. Innumerable insects dimmed the light of the lamp above them, and they could scarcely see the lettering.
"We are here," said Maxwell, laying his finger on the paper, "on the threshold of what the niggers call the Leopards' country, which is marked as partly explored territory, with this patch to represent the dominions of King, or headman, Shaillu. A few armed expeditions have traversed it farther east, and found it thinly peopled by petty tribes hostile to Europeans, while nobody knows much about Shaillu except that he abruptly brokeoff the negotiations he once began with the authorities. That showed the hand of his priests, and brings us back to the Leopard League."
Dane laid down his damp cigar, and listened with keen interest as Maxwell explained.
"As you have heard, secret leagues of all kinds are common in this country, and that of the Leopard is probably one of the most powerful. Its priestly leaders are apparently the power behind the throne in Shaillu's dominions, and, so the natives say, those they favor with a share of their supernatural qualities can render themselves invisible or take the shape of beasts. Like their namesake, they always strike at night. Dismissing all idea of witchcraft, you can take very ingenious human cunning, a thorough knowledge of poisoning, and no mean strategic skill, for granted. Once the white man settles in their country the power of the bush magician must decline; and the deduction you can draw from that should justify a close watch to-night. It is your turn until twelve o'clock, Hilton."
Dane found it a somewhat depressing watch when the cooking fires had died out and the sounds which gather depth with the darkness emphasized the hush of the forest. There was nothing visible but the faint glimmer of the lighted tent, which suggested a huge Chinese lantern set down among the dripping undergrowth. Behind it loomed dim ghosts of trees. Moisture fell drumming upon the tight-strained canvas; and at intervals some beast in the forest sent up an unearthly scream. The darkness was filled with the scent of wood smoke and lilies, and thickened by wisps of drifting steam.
The time dragged by slowly; but at last Dane wasabout to make a final round, when a stealthy rustling held him rigidly still, save that his left hand slid farther along the rifle barrel. The sound ceased and began again, and it became certain that something or somebody was crawling toward the tent. It could hardly be one of the carriers, for Maxwell had intimated that any man found wandering in the darkness would promptly be fired upon. Dane could feel his heart throbbing, but his fingers were steady on the cool barrel as he waited, realizing instinctively that death or danger in some strange shape was drawing near. Nevertheless he was silent, fearing to rouse the camp on a false alarm, and also because he wished to make certain of their unseen enemy.
For a space of a few seconds there was no sound at all, and he grew the more uneasy, knowing that the naked bushman learns by sheer necessity to wriggle almost silently through the undergrowth. Then he found it hard to repress a cry of astonishment as, for a moment, a monstrous shape was silhouetted against the faintly illuminated canvas. It was bulkier than a man, and though it stood upright, its head was that of a beast. Maxwell was clearly in danger, there was no time to lose, and, pitching up the rifle, Dane pressed the trigger. A streak of red fire rent the darkness, and a spark blew into his eyes. He felt the jerk of the barrel, and then, though he scarcely heard the explosion, he caught a thud there is no mistaking—the sound made by the impact of a solid bullet.
As he snapped down the lever and slid home another cartridge, something dim and shadowy rushed past, and the rifle blazed again. Then there was a snapping of undergrowth, a yell from a sentry, the crash of a Snider,and the camp awoke to life. Maxwell, holding up a lamp, sprang half-dressed from the tent, black men rose out of the shadows clamoring excitedly, and Dane's headman, Monday, stood close beside him, peering into the darkness with his long Snider rifle held out before him. Monday was not a timid man, but he looked distinctly uneasy when the light of Maxwell's lantern fell upon his face.
Dane briefly related what had happened; and Maxwell lowered his lantern.
"The Leopards have made their first move, and lost a man, I think," he said. "Most black men are able to carry off considerable lead, but this red trail on the undergrowth is significant. It also appears quite probable that you have saved my life."
Just then, there was a shrill scream in the forest, a scream of human agony, horrible and intense, and afterward a silence that could be felt.
"Them ghost leopard he done go chop some boy!" exclaimed Monday, trembling a little. "We savvy fight black man, sah, but not them debbil."
"The sound rose from behind the tuft of palms," Maxwell said quietly. "Take six of your best men, Monday, and see who is missing. No—stay where you are, Hilton! It is advisable to break them in to this kind of thing."
Monday went reluctantly, and returned to say that one of the sentries and his gun had vanished completely. Then a half-naked man with a matchet burst through the wondering group which had gathered about the pair, demanding assistance to search for his brother.
Maxwell glanced at him, hesitated, and, while Dane protested, shook his head.
"We could never track them, even in broad daylight; and some of the rescue party would not come back," he explained. "By this time the poor devil is certainly dead, and I feel convinced that we shall find him to-morrow without searching. Amadu, tell your boys to fire on any man trying to leave the camp."
Maxwell kept watch himself henceforward, and Dane retired to the tent, resigned though far from contented. He had learned that, if his ways were a trifle autocratic, his comrade was a leader who could be trusted, and though he longed with a vindictive yearning to search the forest, rifle in hand, he did not consider it judicious to question Maxwell's authority.
It was a relief when morning came, and somewhat silently they began the march again. The path wound up a ravine, through climbing forest that rotted as it grew, where grotesque and ghostly orchids sprouted from each crumbling bough, and there was scarcely room for two men abreast in the rutted trail. It had been worn deep by the passage of naked feet; for gum, skins, and a little ivory came down on the heads of slave trains out of Shaillu's country.
Maxwell, with a few picked men, led the way, after giving Dane orders not to follow him too closely with the main body; but the latter found it hard to restrain his carriers, who desired to leave the site of the camp as far behind them as possible.
Dane had lagged a little behind the long line of colored headgear, cases poised aloft on woolly crowns, white draperies, and patches of sable skin, which wound on before him through the green of the tangled jungle, when Maxwell's voice came back sharply.
"Lead your boys wide into the bush, Hilton! Breakthrough for several hundred yards, and send them on before you. Turn back and rejoin me alone when you strike the trail again!"
It was done, though Dane fell over an ant-heap and into a network of horrible thorny trailers which tore the flesh about his ankles. Hurrying back along the trail, he found Maxwell standing behind a screen of resplendent creepers, lighting a cigar with a hand that was not quite steady. His eyes were positively savage, and a patch in the center of each cheek was gray. Startled as Dane was, it was nevertheless soothing to find that his comrade shared some, at least, of the weaknesses of their common humanity. He could not mistake the intensity of Maxwell's anger.
"Prepare yourself for a surprise, Hilton, and then see what awaits you beyond that bush," he said. "I had partly expected it, but when I came upon it the sight almost sickened me."
Dane's nerves were tolerably good, but when he passed the creepers he experienced a shock of nausea and halted abruptly. Two black men were scooping out a trench, while another crouched near by, crooning something while he ran his thumb caressingly up and down a matchet blade. He looked up at the white man's coming, and his face was a study. Horror was stamped upon it; but a slow, relentless ferocity was written there too. This Dane saw with his first glance, but after the second he turned his eyes away. Maxwell was right. They had found the missing sentry. The object—for there was little resemblance of humanity left in what lay a foul blotch on the forest before him—was stretched across the trail; and the neck was twisted so that the face, left whole,looked down the pathway the way the expedition should have come, distorted and ghastly, with its changeless grin of pain. Words appeared superfluous, but Dane's sensations demanded relief in speech.
"Horrible! horrible! But what is the matter with Bad Dollar? He looks positively murderous!"
"It is not surprising," answered Maxwell. "The African is not always admirable in his domestic relations, but what lies yonder was his brother."
Dane, stooping, patted the negro's head.
"It will be a bad day for some of the Leopards when he settles that score. Listen to me, Maxwell. Heaven knows whether through greed I am responsible for part of this; but I most solemnly promise that if ever I can find the master fiend who inspired the murderers, I'll avenge that poor devil, as well as Lyle, the trader, whatever it costs me. We're partners in this affair, Bad Dollar!"
It is probable that the naked heathen attached little meaning to the words, but he understood the hoarseness of the white man's voice, and the steely glint in his eyes. He laid his black hands on the speaker's foot.
"It is a bargain," Dane said gravely. "I mean to keep it, Maxwell."
"You are a little impetuous," was the quiet answer. "Some day there will, I hope, be a reckoning; but a wise man says little and awaits his opportunity. Our turn has not come yet. When it does I do not think you will find me dilatory. Meanwhile, I'm puzzled. There are points connected with this affair which are far from clear; but those fellows have finished and we will go on again."
Beyond instructing Dane and his immediate followersto keep the occurrence secret, Maxwell said nothing further until noon had passed, when Dane asked a question.
"Why did the Leopards make their first move now, when we could, if we wished it, retreat, instead of waiting until we had penetrated farther into their country?"
"It is a pertinent question," said Maxwell. "For one thing, this is, after all, King Shaillu's country, and they possibly fear that if we once have speech with him, the headman, who, so the French officers told me, has a hankering after civilization, might extend us protection. But that does not quite account for everything. You remember Miss Castro's mention of the following shadow? Events have proved her predictions signally correct hitherto, and I am inclined to fancy that the worst danger still lies behind us and not before."
Maxwell vouchsafed no further information, and though Dane knew it was well the expedition had for its leader a man unmoved alike by excess of anger or misguided pity, he could not help retorting: "You foresee a good deal, Carsluith. It is unfortunate you could not more often prevent it. Why could you not have told me more of what you anticipated?"
Maxwell laughed good-humoredly.
"Isn't it apparent that what I prevent from happening does not occur? As to the last question, perhaps the African's answer, 'You never asked me,' is the best. One dreads so much that it appeared useless to harrow your feelings until I was certain."
The march through headman Shaillu's dominions left upon Dane only a series of blurred impressions. Hewas too sick to notice definite details most of the time; but he decided that under no circumstances could it be considered a cheerful country. For days together the expedition floundered through dripping forest so laced and bound with creepers that at noon the daylight could hardly filter down. The atmosphere resembled that of a Turkish bath; moisture splashed upon the broad leaves everywhere, and the heat and the gloom together produced a distressing lassitude. This the white men made strenuous efforts to resist, knowing that they might blunder into an ambush at any moment.
It was evident that their enemies had not lost touch with them; for in spite of their keenest vigilance, a carrier was twice spirited out of camp at night. Once Dane, making the rounds with a lantern, came upon a sentry huddled beneath a cottonwood. He had paid a heavy penalty for his drowsiness. Even Maxwell showed signs of temper at this, and the expedition waited two nights in camp while its leaders prowled through the forest in an attempt to surprise the assassins. It was, of course, a failure. They returned at sunrise, muddy, ragged, and savage, having neither seen nor heard anything suspicious.
The fact that they never did see their persecutors was the most harassing feature of it all; and at last Dane grew by turns murderously resentful and subject to fits of limp dejection, in which the fever had doubtless a share. The few villages they passed were empty. Where a river crossed their path the canoes had been taken away; and at intervals detachments of the carriers fell sick mysteriously. When they limped out into a waste of crackling, sword-edged grass, the glareand dust and heat were bewildering, and after a few days Dane longed for the forest again.
Still they held on, and one evening they marched, blanched in face, and very weary, into sight of one of the strongholds of headman Shaillu.
A stockade ran round the village, and rows of thatched roofs loomed above the frowning wall of timber, but instead of the usual clamor, there was dead silence as, with some semblance of order, the footsore and spiritless carriers limped in through the open gate. Nothing except a few lizards stirred in the first sandy avenue, and the oppressive stillness remained unbroken by the voice of man or beast. The sun hung low above the parched grass in the west, and crimson splendors blazed behind the huts; but a strange musky odor replaced the pungent fragrance of burning wood which at that hour hangs over each African village.
"The whole land seems dead," Dane said slowly, leaning heavily on his rifle as he spoke. "There are times when one could almost fancy, Carsluith, that you and I were ghosts—indeed, at the present moment you don't look unlike one; but what is the meaning of this latest riddle? This is the black headman's capital, isn't it?"
Maxwell smiled mirthlessly, as he stood, with beaded forehead and shoulders bent, glancing toward the weary carriers. His face was worn and hollow, though his eyes were bright, and his clothing was dropping in tatters from his weary limbs. The glare behind him emphasized the lividness of his pallid skin.
"It is one of them. I believe he has several," hesaid. "Whether he fears reprisals from some plundered neighbor, or pestilence, I naturally don't know; but, as his absence will save us a good many presents and much loss of time, it is not material. Still, we might find some clue in one of these huts."
Maxwell entered the nearest, then moved into another, and stayed there some time, leaving Dane in the sandy avenue before it; the carriers were resting at a distance. The sun dipped, and as Dane watched the night creep up swiftly from the east, it struck him that there was a curious uncanny feeling about the place. It was a relief when his comrade returned, looking graver than ever.
"Did you find any one inside?"
"I did," was the answer. "Unfortunately the man, as well as the one in the next hut, was dead, and had, I fancy, been so for some time. He probably died of a plague, which explains why the town is empty. We may find something more conclusive in one of the larger huts."
Dane decided that the discovery of two dead Africans was sufficient, and said so; but Maxwell persisted, and it was almost dark when they halted outside what appeared to be the headman's dwelling. Nothing could be distinguished in the interior, but Dane could hear creeping things rustle in the thatch, and the peculiar odor he already had noticed drifted forth from the hut. This was all, but he felt an instinctive repugnance to entering, and when Maxwell passed him, he caught him by the shoulder to suggest that they should light a lantern first. Hardly had he done so than what appeared to be a puff of colder air sighed close past his ear, and Maxwell, whipping out his revolver, hailed him torun round the hut as he leaped into the room. Dane did so, finding another entrance at the rear, and a broad space between the dwelling and the nearest hut. Nobody, he felt almost certain, would have had sufficient time to cross it, but the space was empty. When he went in Maxwell had torn down and lighted strips of palm-leaf from the thatch, but the name that leaped up showed them no sign of living humanity. Maxwell's countenance was very grim.
"You saw nobody outside there? I hardly thought you would," he said. "Our animal instincts are sometimes more useful than our powers of reasoning, Hilton. It is probable that if you had not checked me, I should now be on my way out of this land of surprises. What we heard was a diminutive arrow, no doubt with the venom there's no cure for upon its point. It could not have been shot at us by either of the Africans yonder."
Dane, glancing at the two awful huddled figures, swore softly and viciously.
"It is time we struck back, Carsluith," he urged. "I'll call up our boys and surround the huts."
"It would be useless," said Maxwell, shaking his head. "You have not realized these fellows' ingenuity, even yet. Further, if the boys saw what we have seen it might be disastrous."
A horror of the whole country where such things were possible came upon Dane and he moistened his dry lips with his tongue.
"I would give ten years of my life to stand face to face with the leader of these devils."
"Perhaps you will some day! I am puzzled among other things by their pertinacity. The heathen is unstable, and one almost feels that there must be something stronger than the native's spasmodic purpose behind what we have endured. In any case, it will be pleasanter to camp outside the town to-night."
They had some trouble in inducing their followers to quit the promised shelter, but both felt easier when they had repassed the stockade gate. That was apparently their enemies' last effort, for they were not molested during the rest of their journey; and eventually Maxwell halted his worn-out men beside a shrunken river. It came down out of a chaos of jungle-covered hills, rippling over sharp sand, with tall bluffs on the opposite side of it; and within five minutes every carrier was rolling and splashing in the lukewarm stream.
Dane quivered with eagerness as he watched Maxwell, who, looking up from a paper in his hand, smiled inscrutably.
"Yes. From Niven's description we have reached our goal at last. I was almost afraid his memory or imagination had betrayed him," he said. "That must be the bluff he camped on, and this, according to his assertion, the river which sprinkles its sand with gold. However, he hinted that it would pay better to prospect the higher pools. I want you to test his statement, Hilton. The result of the experiment promises to be eventful."
Maxwell's voice was slightly uneven, but his fingers seemed steady as he lighted one of their few last cigars. Dane felt his own knees weak beneath him, and his voice was hoarse when he hailed a carrier whose load consisted of prospecting tools. Carrying a tin dish and a small shovel, he waded into the shrunken river. There was a patch of sand near its center from which he filledthe metal basin, and then halted with a curious sickly feeling, afraid almost to test its contents. He had sunk too much of his slender capital in the venture, and his future depended upon that test. Its issues were prosperity and the realization of the hope that had sent him to Africa, or a weary struggle for daily bread; and the climate-weakened man felt that, after all they had dared and suffered, he could hardly face failure. The perspiration trickled into his eyes, and oozed from his hair, and he stood still, knee-deep in the nameless river, for the space of almost a minute.
Then, stooping suddenly, he dipped the vessel and whirled it round and round until partly empty. There was a color about some of the particles remaining that caught his attention; but he would not trust a partial test, and continued the washing until, except for a very trifling residue, the pan was empty. Still, Maxwell made no comment and asked no question, for, if one was now swift in action, the other was great in silence.
Dane straightened himself, and waded back with dry lips and tickling throat, but with triumph in his eyes; and Maxwell laughed softly as he grasped the hand he stretched out.
"What have you found?" he asked.
"Enough to prove your dead friend right, and encourage us to search for something better!" Dane spoke as calmly as he could. "It is only stream gold, and doubtless readily worked out, but heaven knows how much more there may be up yonder where this came down from."
"You think——"
"That Niven was not mad, but eminently sane! I'mnot a practical gold prospector, but I couldn't well help learning a little of the theory when working on the drawings of hydraulic mining machinery. It's a question of the velocity of the current and specific gravity—for even with a stream behind gold grains of any size don't travel far; and their matrix lies in yonder hills, or beyond them, somewhere."
"We'll go on again to-morrow," said Maxwell quietly.
For a week they hewed a way through the jungles on the hillside, or waded up the bed of the river where it promised an easier road; and finally, daring to penetrate no farther, they pitched camp on a palm-crested bluff overhanging a breadth of dry sand and a deep pool beneath a fall. Since leaving Shaillu's stronghold they had neither been followed by their persecutors nor seen anything with life in it. Maxwell left all operations to his friend's direction, and toiled beside him for several days like a galley slave, digging and blowing out with explosives a new channel to empty the pool, besides hewing troughs to bring down the water from above the fall.
Once more the burning day was drawing toward its close when, with the roar of the last shot rolling across the encircling forest and the water frothing muddily down its new outlet, Dane stood beside his comrade, leaning on a shovel, and wondering greatly that the latter could think of anything beyond the result of their experiment.
"The jungle seems to mock us, does it not?" Maxwell remarked. "Already its silence has swallowed the feeble din we made; and the next flood will obliterate forever all traces of your workings."
"Then you don't believe that this is the beginning of a new era, and that those who follow us will change the future of this wilderness?" asked Dane with a show of incredulity.
Maxwell pointed to the jungle fading into the dimness of the east.
"I do not. Look at it," he said. "It has stood so from the beginning, a place of everlasting shadow, for the naked bushmen to hunt each other in; and it will be the same long centuries after you and I are gone. It is too old and changeless for even the Briton to subdue. Phœnician, Roman, Arab, and Moor have all tackled this all-absorbing Africa; and while the brown men have left a plainer stamp on it than the white men, how much has any of them done? Still, all this is beside the question, isn't it? It will be enough for you and me if we can return home safely with some small augmentation of our capital. Hadn't you better resume your digging, Hilton?"
Dane did so, stripped to the waist; and great fires were blazing before he came up out of the river, exultant.
"I can't promise a fortune, but there should be sufficient to pay us for all our toil," he said. "Those little grains will realize almost four pounds an ounce."
They set out a carefully treasured bottle of lukewarm wine that night in the tent, and duly emptied it, though, perhaps for the same reason, neither of them ate much; and afterward they sat long talking under the smoky lamp. It was a night to remember, for it is not often one enjoys the same thrill of triumph twice in a lifetime. Maxwell was unusually communicative; and long afterward Dane could remember how he leaned against adeal case, worn, thin, and haggard, but with a smile of satisfaction on his hollow face.
"Success appears within sight at last, but it is well to take good fortune soberly," he said. "I am, however, sensible of an insane desire to do something extravagant when I remember all that word implies. You have seen Culmeny, Hilton, but it is hardly possible that you can realize the affection I have for the old place. It was fast falling into ruin before my father improved its finances a little by painful economy; and, because we generally fought and plotted for the losing side, the poor acres about it have been starved overlong. Now, after many an arduous search for the wherewithal, I can hope it may be granted me to restore a measure of its former prosperity. The Culmeny mosses could be turned into plow-land and pasture with the aid of a little money."
"You are a young man, Carsluith," Dane replied suggestively. "Being merely one of the swarming people, I don't know that love for—an ancient dwelling—would have exacted so much from me. Drainage schemes are no doubt useful, but was the extension of them your only ambition?"
Maxwell laughed good-humoredly, though a trace of shadow crept back into his face.
"No," he said slowly; "there was a time when they took a very secondary place. Every one has his weaknesses, and even now I have not quite got over mine."
The friendship between the two men had never been demonstrative, but it was deep enough to make Dane's comment no liberty.
"I can guess. The old story, no doubt. 'It was the woman who tempted me!' She treated you badly?"
"No," Maxwell answered quietly, looking hard at his companion. "She—God bless her—could treat no one harshly. It was my own folly to dream that she, with her fresh young beauty and the light-heartedness of innocence, could find anything congenial in such a taciturn, somber man as myself. Well, that romance is over, but it has left its mark; and now all that I hope for is that Culmeny will flourish for a brief space under the last of an unfortunate family."
Now there are limits beyond which even one who has sickened and fought and suffered beside a trusted comrade may hardly go, and Dane repressed the question which trembled on his lips. Nevertheless, he afterward fancied that if he had asked it then Maxwell would have answered him; and the revelation probably would have made a vast difference in the future of both of them. Dane did not, however, ask.
He was partly dazed by his own good fortune, and, when at last they ceased from speech, he sat in contented silence conjuring up roseate visions of the future. It was true that he had quarreled with Lilian, or she had quarreled with him; but during the time of stress and struggle the importance of the difference between them had—so it seemed to the man—steadily diminished. He could recall significant trifles which suggested that the time would come when the woman would no longer enforce the terms of their compact; and he felt that it was at least possible that, returning triumphant, he would find that she had already forgiven his supposed offenses. So hope rose victorious over doubts and dejection; and Dane was nodding, dreaming, while still half-awake, golden dreams, when Maxwell's voice recalled him to the laborious present.
"It is past midnight, and the task before us will tax our uttermost energies. Isn't it time to turn in, Hilton?"
Dane nodded.
"We will begin at sunrise," he said; "work every possible hour, and start back for England whenever the yield falls off. It is better to make sure of a portion than risk the whole by straining for too much; and fortune does not appear to favor white men overlong in this country. Even if we were but half satisfied, it should not be difficult to float a company."
Maxwell shook his head.
"Your first suggestion shows some discernment, Hilton; the second, less. Even a wildcat company promoter would fight shy of this mine; and it is tolerably certain that we have both the cross-marked man and Monsieur Victor Rideau still to reckon with."
Dane stretched himself out on some matting when Maxwell turned out the lamp, but he did not immediately sleep. The hot African darkness hemmed in the little tent, but he could see his comrade's figure dimly outlined against it as he sat rigidly still in the entrance. Then it struck him that they were very far away from all help from civilization, with a secret in their possession which already had cost the lives of other men. The roseate visions faded, and a sense of impending trouble preceded slumber. It was significant that Dane's fingers sought the pistol that lay beside him.
"Not asleep yet?" asked Maxwell. "What is troubling you?"
"I don't quite know," Dane answered. "I was going to ask you the same thing. Carsluith, if Rideau or the other rascal interferes with us further before Ihave won sufficient to float my patent, some of the party won't go home again."
The sun had just cleared the forest when, one morning soon after Dane had set his flume and washing gear to work, he sat at breakfast before a swinging table in their extemporized mess tent. Maxwell, who had just risen, stood in the entrance, partly dazzled by the growing brightness. Suddenly some of the Krooboys commenced to chatter excitedly, and a negro's voice rose above the commotion:
"White man lib for across the river!"
Maxwell, springing into the tent, snatched up a pair of binoculars; and the table overturned with a crash as Dane scrambled to his feet.
"The devil!" he exclaimed, staring stupidly at the figure below which saluted them with uplifted arm.
Maxwell frowned as he sharply closed the glasses.
"No," he said, "not exactly. It is Monsieur Victor Rideau."
Ten minutes had passed before the man Dane had seen at Castro's factory came smiling into camp, and the miner glanced at him curiously. He was short, but somewhat burly and broad-chested for a man of pure Gallic descent. His hair was very crisp and black, his face swarthy, and his fingers suspiciously like those of the negro. He was, considering the country, neatly arrayed in white duck and shoes with pointed toes. Monsieur Rideau had evidently traveled in a hammock.
"Felicitations, camarades," he began, with, it seemed to one observer, an excess of amiability. "It please me greatly to meet the friend of my own color in this country of the devil, so I leave all my boy behind there and push on with much expedition to salute you."
"That was very kind," said Maxwell shortly, never moving his eyes from his enemy. "The eagerness was mutual. My friend here upset our breakfast equipage in his hurry to greet you. The cook, however, will get you some more presently."
Dane fancied he read satisfaction in his comrade's face when the other answered:
"I have the breakfast already. You smoke now. I have these from Cuba—he is smuggle. No? That is the pity; but we talk at least. I have affaire of importance to discuss with you."
"So I presumed," said Maxwell, with no excess of civility. "Our tent is hardly fit to enter, but there is still shade here. Please consider us attentive listeners."
"Bien!" Rideau carefully laid a silk handkerchief on a fallen cottonwood before he took his seat. "I come to search the gold mine, and find two men of my own color have find her already. Me, I am not greedy. I say there is the plenty for three. So I make proposal. I go the partner with you."
"Suppose that does not suit us?" Dane broke in.
Rideau lifted one shoulder and stretched out the other arm with an air that was not wholly Gallic, but rather suggested the grimaces of a negro.
"It would be the pity. You know how we say, 'J'y suis——?' As an American captain I have once small difference with tell me when he establish himself all day on my veranda: 'I'm here, Mr. Shylocker, and until I get what I've come for I stop right where I am.' Shylocker, I tell him, is a compliment not comprehended of me. That was a man of determination, but I vanquish him, my friends."
Hitherto something in the speaker's fastidious neatness and excessive bonhommie had, because his welcome was the reverse of cordial, prevented Dane from taking him seriously. Now there was a glint in his dark eyes which suggested that he might prove dangerous; and Dane surmised that the last sentence was meant as a warning. In any case, his blood took fire at its veiled insolence.
"It seems to me you could only have found your way here by means of a map stolen from me!" he said hotly, rising as he spoke.
Maxwell silenced him with a gesture.
"That is beside the question, Hilton. Monsieur Rideau is here, and, as he informs us, here he means to stay. The first question is whether, if we do not wish it, he is able to."
Rideau took up the challenge with outward good-humor.
"I have of camp boy two, or perhaps three, for every one I see of you. Most he is also arm with the good rifle. If there is the bad understanding, somebody is possibly get kill, which is distressing to me. Beside, the barbaric indigene he go chop us separables, as the nigger say. United we are invincibles,voyez vous?"
"I believe I do," Maxwell answered, in a tone which suggested that he saw considerably more than the other's words revealed; and Dane watched the pair, as for some seconds they lapsed into silence—the Briton motionless and almost too rigid in bearing, with an expressionless face; the swarthy adventurer smiling out of shifty eyes, while his fingers betrayed his impatience.
Then Maxwell spoke abruptly.
"Your proposal demands serious consideration. I would prefer to give you an answer this time to-morrow."
"Bien," Rideau acquiesced; and after a detailed account of his adventures, which Dane surmised was wholly fictitious, he took his leave.
"The savage has his virtues as well as his failings," said Maxwell, looking after him. "That man, however, is neither French nor negro, and such as he usually combine the vices of both sides of their ancestry. What do you think of his proposal, Hilton?"
"I should have dismissed him with four expressive words. Why did you promise to consider it at all?"
Maxwell smiled dryly.
"Because I intend to do so. I will give you my reasons this evening when, after a day's consideration, I shall have them ready in a more definite shape. In the meantime, we had better continue the mining."
The result of the day's work was encouraging, though it cost Dane an effort to concentrate his attention upon his task. Rideau's swarthy face haunted him; he would have felt more cheerful had his companion decided to defy him. Maxwell, however, said little, and appeared to find pleasure in working with concentrated energy.
Evening came at last, and thick darkness closed about the lonely tent. Neither of the men ate much, and when the frugal meal had been cleared away, Maxwell once more spread his map on the table.
"We have to make an eventful decision, and it might be well to consider our position," he said, laying his finger on the map. "We are somewhere here, just beyond the fringe of Shaillu's country, with a difficult and dangerous country between us and civilization, and a little-known land, whose inhabitants are supposed to be predatory tribes, to the north."
"We will take all that for granted," responded Dane. "Can you give me Rideau's record?"
"But little of it. He is evidently of mixed blood, and partly educated, a trader by profession, with a mysterious inland connection. I was told that the authorities suspect him of trafficking in unlawful weapons, or even in black humanity. I have little doubt it was he who hired the man with the scar onhis forehead to arrange for Niven's destruction; and, while several points are not clear to me, I fancy he is at least partly responsible for our own misfortunes. Seeing his efforts to circumvent us fail, he has decided to join us—for a time. Lastly, I am inclined to surmise that by reason of some unlawful speculation, jointly undertaken, he has a hold on Dom Pedro, and so obtained possession of the map you lost. Now, what are we to say to him?"
"Very little, in my opinion!" grunted Dane. "Tell him to go to the devil! If that rouses his indignation, as I hope it will, I should find satisfaction in assisting him."
Maxwell smiled, but shook his head.
"Your ways are delightfully simple, but hardly practicable, Hilton," he said. "In the first place, Rideau means to stay, and has, he tells us, a force much superior to our own. Suppose we succeeded in driving him out by violence, we should have to meet a charge of filibustering when we returned to the coast, or stand a siege if he returned with a host of native allies. The one safe step in that direction would be the entrapping and total annihilation of Rideau and his party, which, presumably, would not recommend itself to you!"
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Dane, convinced against his will. "Am I a professional murderer? Since you don't agree with mine, let me hear your views."
"In the first place we must hope that, as he suggests, there may be gold enough for three. Further, I consider Rideau least dangerous when under my own eye, and therefore consider it would be wisest to accept his proposal and watch him carefully. We shall thus havepeace for a time, at least, and when necessary must endeavor to match our wits against his guile. That the man's company will not be pleasant, I need hardly say; but we can't afford to be particular with so much at stake. Remember that we came here to make money, and not in search of adventures, or to maintain our dignity."
Dane only nodded, and so the conference concluded. Sooner than lose what he hoped for he was prepared to concede anything; but it might have been better if he had adhered to his own simple plan; for it is difficult to make a bargain with such a man as Rideau, and keep it without material losses as well as diminished self-respect.
Early the next morning Rideau arrived, bringing with him an imposing number of colored desperadoes; and a written agreement was drawn up. They were to share all risks and expenses, and divide what gold they won on its safe arrival at the coast. Rideau showed bland satisfaction when he read it through; but, before he filled a rusty pen, Dane rose and laid Bonita Castro's keepsake on the table.
"Faith is a question of training, and exactly what each man believes concerns only himself; but probably all of us respect this as a symbol," he said. "Is that not so, Monsieur Rideau?"
Rideau glanced from the speaker to Maxwell, and there was a gleam in his eyes, then he bent his head.
Flinging down his battered sun-hat, Dane laid his right hand on the object on the table, saying: "So I solemnly promise, first to keep this bargain and faith with my partners, if it cost me my life or fortune; and secondly, to demand a full account from either shouldhe betray his trust, as, if I fail them, they shall do to me."
Maxwell in turn recorded his promise with quiet simplicity; but Rideau started when the object was passed on to him. It was a beautifully wrought crucifix of medieval workmanship. For a moment he stared malevolently at Dane, and then a look akin to fear crept into his eyes. But, raising one hand aloft, he pledged himself more solemnly than either, and attached his name first of all to the foot of the agreement. He retired shortly afterward to pitch his camp, for the new partners had decided that their respective carriers would be best kept apart; and Maxwell looked at his comrade.
"Had you mentally rehearsed that scene, Hilton?" he asked. "It was almost a stroke of genius."
"No. I don't claim to be a genius. It was simply the most solemn thing I could think of from his point of view. I meant exactly what I said, and I feel somewhat easier now that Rideau has passed the test."
Maxwell smiled.
"You are very confiding, Hilton—and he did not pass the test. Still, considering the blend between the worthy missionaries' teaching and African superstition which, while it would probably astonish them, accounted for his momentary hesitation, Rideau is either braver or more avaricious than I supposed him. Did it occur to you that he recognized Miss Castro's gift?"
Dane was somewhat astonished.
"How do you know that it was Miss Castro's gift; and what if he did?"
"I saw it once in her possession, and, as she naturallywould not sell such a thing, I presumed that you had not stolen it. I heard that Rideau had persecuted that lady with his attentions. It would be well to remember henceforward that ceaseless vigilance is the price of safety."
Thus, with the prospect of treachery on one side, the partnership with Rideau began; but the new carriers were sturdy men, and the gold-washing was carried on with characteristic energy, alike under the burning sun of noon and by the glare of great fires until long into the steamy night. Dane labored with his own hands among his Krooboys, stripped to the waist. Maxwell seconded him loyally, for he had now relinquished the leader's place; and by degrees the pair drilled their dusky subordinates into capable workmen. It is true that they usually suspended operations the moment the white men relaxed their vigilance; but that was only to be expected, and their masters got a good deal out of them considering that most negroes have a chronic distaste for manual labor. Rideau's detachment, Dane noticed, were the most amenable to discipline, and obeyed all orders with a submission which puzzled the observer, for he knew that meek obedience is not a characteristic of the seaboard African. Their master, who did little beyond expressing his approval of Danes' efforts, grew more cordial as the weeks went by. But Maxwell was civil, and nothing more; and Dane surmised that he was rather more watchful and suspicious than he had been before.
One night when, worn out by physical exertion and aching in every joint, they dragged themselves, dripping with river water, back to their tent, there was a covert sneer in Rideau's laugh as he addressed them:
"You English are a curious people, and there are those who call you mad. The more tired and dirty you are, the more happy. I once see your naval officer on the Niger harness with the indigene, like the mule, to drag the wheel-gun through a robber headman's swamp. One drôle, he tell me it was the glorious fun."
"I dare say he meant it," retorted Maxwell. "It is probably owing to that very form of insanity that, while you—the French, I mean—have with commendable foresight appropriated the best of Africa, we others remain at least its commercial masters."
The pause and apparent correction was not made by accident, and Dane fancied that Rideau grasped its significance. He retired shortly, and Maxwell looked thoughtful.
"I am afraid I was not judicious; but we are only human, and there are times when my dislike for that rascal almost masters me," he said. "I would give much to learn who it is that slinks into his camp at night."