The tree had two openings, a large one half a yard from the ground, and a smaller one, somewhere about the height of the first story of a town house. Hardly had Mea thrown the burning branches into the lower one than large bats began to fly out of the top one, and, blinded by the sun, they circled around the tree, screaming as loud as they could. But the real master of the house soon wriggled out of the lower opening, and it proved to be an enormous boa-constrictor, which, though apparently still half asleep, had devoured the remnants of its last feast, and not until the smoke reached its nostrils had it awakened and sought safety. At the sight of this iron-colored body squirming out of the smoking tree-hollow, uncoiling itself like an enormous spring, Stasch picked Nell up in his arms and started to run away with her in the direction of the open wilderness. The reptile, itself frightened by the smoke and fire, did not follow them, but wended its way through the grass and the piles of baggage and disappeared very swiftly in the direction of the gorge, to hide itself in the crevices of the rocks. The children regained their courage. Stasch set Nell on the ground, hurried to fetch his rifle, and then ran in the direction of the gorge after the snake. Nell followed close behind. After going a short distance they beheld such an extraordinary sight that they both stood rooted to the ground. High above the gorge the body of the snake appeared for an instant, wriggled in the air, then fell to the ground. After a while it appeared a second time, then fell down again. When the children reached the edge of the ravine they saw to their surprise that their new friend, the elephant, was playing with the snake, and after having thrown it in the air twice, he was now stamping on its head with his feet, which resembled blocks of wood. Having finished this performance, he lifted the still squirming body with his trunk; this time he did not throw it into the air, but right into the waterfall. Then he swayed from side to side, fanned himself with his ears, and began to fix his eyes on Nell, and at last put out his trunk toward her, as if demanding a reward for his heroic and sensible deed.
“At the sight of the boa-constrictor squirming out of the smoking tree-hollow, uncoiling itself like an enormous spring, Stasch picked up Nell in his arms and started to run away.”
“At the sight of the boa-constrictor squirming out of the smoking tree-hollow, uncoiling itself like an enormous spring, Stasch picked up Nell in his arms and started to run away.”
Nell immediately ran toward the tent and returned with a quantity of wild figs, a few of which she threw to him. He picked them up carefully and swallowed one after another. Those that fell into deep crevices he picked up by blowing into the cracks with such force that stones the size of one’s fist flew into the air along with the figs. The children showed their appreciation of these tricks by laughing and clapping their hands. Nell repeatedly brought more food, and every time she threw a fig down she maintained that he was quite tame now, and that it would be safe for her to go down to him.
“Do you see, Stasch, now we shall have a protector—for he is afraid of nothing in the wilderness, not even of a lion or a snake, or a crocodile. Besides, he is very good—and surely he ought to be fond of us.”
“If he should become tame,” said Stasch, “so that I might leave you in his care, I would not be afraid to go off hunting, for I could not find a better protector for you in the whole of Africa.”
After a while he continued:
“It is a fact that the elephants of Africa are wilder, but I have read that the Asiatic ones, for instance, have a peculiar weakness for children. In India there has never been a case of an elephant hurting a child, and when one of these animals becomes enraged, as sometimes happens, children are sent to appease it.”
“So you see, you see!”
“At any rate, you were right in preventing me from killing him.”
Thereupon Nell’s eyes shone with joy. Standing on tip-toe, she laid both hands on Stasch’s shoulders, and leaning her head back and looking into his eyes, she asked:
“I behaved as if I were—how old? Tell me! As if I were—how old?”
And he answered:
“At least seventy.”
“You do nothing but joke.”
“Well, be angry! be angry! But who will release the elephant?”
On hearing this Nell clung to him like a young kitten.
“You!—and I shall love you very much for it, and so will he.”
“I have already thought about it,” said Stasch; “but it will be a very troublesome thing to do. I shall not do it now, but only when we are ready to continue our journey.”
“Why?”
“For this reason: because if I should release him before he is quite tame and before he has got used to us, he would immediately run away.”
“Oh! he will not leave me.”
“Do you think he is as fond of you as I am?” replied Stasch somewhat impatiently.
All further conversation was interrupted by the approach of Kali, who brought the slain zebra with its young one, which had been bitten to death by Saba. It was a lucky thing for the bulldog that he had followed Kali, and had therefore not been present at the routing out of the snake, for the dog would have followed it, and had he come within its reach would have been squeezed to death in its coils long before Stasch could have come to the rescue. He received a box on the ears from Stasch for having torn to pieces the young zebra, but he did not seem to take this very much to heart, for he did not even put in his tongue, which had been hanging out ever since he came from the chase.
Meanwhile Stasch gave Kali to understand that he intended to arrange a dwelling-place in the tree, and told him what had happened when smoking out the tree-trunk, and what the elephant had done to the snake. The thought of living in the giant tree, which not only served as a protection against the rain, but also against wild animals, pleased the negro very much, but, on the other hand, the elephant’s behavior did not at all meet with his approval.
“The elephant is stupid,” said he, “and therefore he threw the ‘nioka’ (snake) into the rushing waters, but Kali knows that ‘nioka’ is very good to eat, and so he will fish it out of the water and roast it, for Kali is clever—and a donkey.”
“Yes, you are a donkey, all right,” answered Stasch. “You surely do not want to eat a snake.”
“Nioka is good,” said Kali.
And pointing to the dead zebra, he added:
“Better than this nyama.”
Then they both walked toward the baobab-tree and began to arrange the house. Kali took a flat stone, the shape of a large sieve, from the bank of the river, laid it down inside the tree-trunk, and put more and more burning wood on it, taking care that the rotten wood in the inside of the tree did not catch fire, which would have set the entire tree ablaze. He said that he did this so that nothing could bite the “Great Man” and the little “Bibi.” It was soon apparent that this was no unnecessary precaution, for no sooner had the wreaths of smoke filled the interior of the tree and rushed out than all kinds of vermin began to creep out of the broken bark—black and cherry-colored beetles, plum-sized hairy spiders, caterpillars covered with finger-long prickly hairs, and all sorts of horrible poisonous vermin, whose bite might even cause death. From what was taking place on the exterior of the trunk, it could readily be imagined that many similar insects were meeting their fate in the clouds of smoke within, and the insects which fell to the grass from the bark and the lower branches were unmercifully killed with stones by Kali, who all the time stared fixedly at the two openings in the hollow trunk as if afraid that some strange creature would appear at any minute.
“Why do you look like that?” asked Stasch; “do you believe that there is another snake hidden in the tree?”
“No; Kali is afraid of ‘Msimu.’ ”
“What’s that, ‘Msimu’?”
“Evil spirit.”
“Have you ever seen a Msimu?”
“No, but Kali has heard the dreadful noise made by Msimu in the sorcerers’ huts.”
“So your sorcerers are not afraid of him?”
“The sorcerers fully believe in him; they enter our huts and tell us that Msimu is angry, and the negroes bring them bananas, honey, pombe (a beer made from a certain plant), eggs and meat, with which to propitiate Msimu.”
Stasch raised his eyebrows.
“I should think it would be delightful to be one of your sorcerers. But could this snake have been Msimu?”
Kali shook his head.
“If this had been so the elephant would not have killed Msimu, but Msimu would have killed the elephant. Msimu is dead.”
A weird crackling sound suddenly interrupted him. From the lower cavity in the tree came a strange-looking cloud of red dust; after which the crackling became louder.
Kali at once prostrated himself on his face and began to scream in terror:
“Aka! Msimu! Aka! Aka! Aka!”
At first Stasch drew back, too, but he soon regained his composure, and when Nell and Mea came running up he explained the probable cause to them.
“It is most likely,” he said, “that layers of mold, loosened by the heat, have fallen down and smothered the fire. But Kali believes it was Msimu. Mea shall pour water into the cavity, for if the fire is not smothered and the mold should ignite, it might burst out and the whole tree be consumed.”
Stasch saw that Kali still lay prostrate in terror, repeating “Aka! Aka!” so he picked up his rifle, shot into the cavity, then touched the boy with the butt of the gun and said:
“Your Msimu is shot. Don’t be frightened.”
Kali raised himself a little, but remained on his knees.
“O great, great sir! Is the master not even afraid of Msimu?”
Stasch’s reply was a laugh.
After a while the negro became calm, and sat down to the meal prepared by Mea. It was very evident that his momentary fright had not affected his appetite, for in addition to a substantial helping of smoked meat he ate the raw liver of the young zebra, not to mention the wild figs, quantities of which grew on a neighboring sycamore. Then he and Stasch returned to the tree, where there was still plenty of work to be done, for it took more than two hours to take out the mold and ashes, the burned bats, the piles of roasted beetles, and other large insects.
Stasch wondered how the bats could have lived in such close proximity to the snake, but he concluded that the monster either disdained such small prey or could not reach it, being unable to uncoil itself inside the tree. The heat had caused the layers of mold to break off, and thus cleaned out the interior very thoroughly. Stasch was delighted to see this, for the cavity was as spacious as a large room, and would be big enough not only to shelter four persons, but ten. The lower opening formed a door; the upper, a window; and consequently it was neither dark nor stuffy in the giant tree. Stasch decided to divide the interior into two rooms by means of the tent canvas; one of these he intended for Nell and Mea and the other for himself, Kali, and Saba. The tree was not decayed at the top, therefore no rain could penetrate it, and in order to make it completely waterproof it was only necessary to raise and prop the bark slightly over both openings, so as to form two gutters. They decided to strew the floor inside with sun-dried sand from the bank of the stream, and to cover this with a padding of dry moss.
This was very hard work, especially for Kali, for he had also to smoke the meat, water the horses, and supply food for them all, as well as for the elephant, who continually reminded them of it by trumpeting. But the young negro set to work with great zest and industry arranging their new abode. The reason for his industry was discovered by Stasch that very day.
“If the Great Man and Bibi,” said he, with his hands on his hips, “are to live in the tree, Kali will not have to build a large hedge for the night, and so he will have nothing to do in the evening.”
“So you like being idle, eh?” said Stasch.
“Kali is a man, and so he likes to be idle, for only women should work.”
“And yet you see that I work for Bibi.”
“But, on the other hand, Bibi will have to work for the Great Man when she grows up—and should she refuse, the Great Man will surely beat her.”
At the very thought of this Stasch sprang up and cried angrily:
“You fool, do you know what ‘Bibi’ is?”
“I don’t know,” answered the frightened boy.
“Bibi is—is—a good Msimu.”
At this Kali fairly staggered.
On finishing his work he walked shyly up to Nell, prostrated himself on his face before her, and began in a beseeching, if not a frightened voice, to repeat:
“Aka! Aka! Aka!”
And the “good Msimu” looked at him wonderingly with her lovely sea-green eyes, for she could not understand what had happened, and what was the matter with Kali.
The new dwelling-place, which Stasch had named “Cracow,” was all ready for them in three days. Most of the baggage had been placed in “the men’s room,” and even before the house was ready the four youngsters were well sheltered there during a severe storm. The rainy season had now set in in earnest. This rain is not like our long autumnal storms, when the sky is covered over with lowering clouds and the monotonous, dreary weather lasts for weeks. Here the dense clouds which water the earth so plentifully are dissipated by the wind several times a day. Then the sun shines again as though just emerging from a bath and floods the cliffs, the stream, the trees, and the entire jungle with its golden light. One can almost see the grass grow. The foliage on the trees is luxuriant, and before one fruit drops off another is forming. The excessive moisture in the air makes it so transparent that even far-off objects stand out distinctly and one can see to a great distance. On the horizon there are beautiful rainbows, the colors of which are always reflected in the waterfall.
During the short dawn and the twilight the sky shone and reflected a thousand bright colors more wonderful than the children had ever seen even in the Libyan desert. The clouds hanging down nearest the water were cherry-colored, and the higher regions, better lighted, looked like seas of purple and gold, and the small, puffy clouds shone alternately like rubies, amethysts, and opals. At night, in the intervals between showers, the moon converted the dewdrops hanging on the leaves of the acacias and mimosas into diamonds, and the tropical light shone much more brilliantly through the fresh, transparent air than at other seasons of the year.
Under the waterfall, in the swamps formed by the stream, the croaking of frogs and the melancholy concert of toads rang out, and the fireflies, like shooting stars, flitted through the bamboo bushes from one bank to the other.
When the clouds again hid the starry sky and it began to rain, the night became pitch dark, and inside the tree it was as dark as a cellar. To remedy this Stasch got Mea to melt some fat taken from the slain animals, and out of a tin can be made a lamp, which he hung under the upper opening that the children called a window. The light from this window could be seen afar off through the darkness, and while it frightened away the wild animals, it attracted bats and night birds, so that finally Kali had to put up a kind of a curtain of thorns, like the one with which he closed the lower opening for the night. In the daytime, between showers, if the weather were fine, the children would leave “Cracow” and wander over the entire strip of land. Stasch would hunt gazels, antelopes, and ostriches, herds of which often appeared on the banks of the lower stream, and Nell would visit her elephant, which at first only trumpeted when he wanted some food, but later began trumpeting when he felt lonesome for his little friend. He always greeted her with signs of joy, and at once began to prick up his large ears whenever he heard her voice or step even far away.
One day when Stasch was out hunting and Kali was fishing above the waterfall, Nell decided to go to the rock which blocked the gorge to see if Stasch had done anything to remove it. Mea, who was busy preparing the mid-day meal, did not notice her departure. On her way Nell picked a peculiar kind of begonia,[23]which grew in large quantities between the crevices of the rock; she approached the slope over which they had formerly ridden out of the gorge, and walked till she came to the rock. The large boulder had broken off the side of the cliff, and barred the mouth of the ravine as before, but Nell noticed that there was still enough room between it and the wall of the cliff for even a grown person to get through easily. She hesitated a while and then passed through, gaining the opposite side. But there was still another bend, which had to be passed before reaching the broad mouth of the gorge, enclosed by the waterfall. Nell began to consider what she should do. “I will go only a little farther; then I will look from behind a rock and take a peep at the elephant; he will not spy me, and then I shall turn back.” So she crept forward until she reached the place where the gorge suddenly widened into a small, deep valley, and then she saw the elephant. He stood with his back toward her, his trunk in the water, taking a drink. This encouraged her, and keeping close to the wall of the cliff, she walked a few steps, bending forward a little more; just then the giant beast, who was going to take a bath, turned his head, saw the little girl and immediately started toward her.
Nell was thoroughly frightened, but having no time to retreat, she made her very prettiest courtesy, and then extending her hand in which she held the begonias, said in a rather trembling voice:
“Good morning, dear elephant! I know you will not hurt me, and so I have come here to say good-day to you—I have only these little flowers——”
The colossus approached, put out his trunk and took from Nell’s fingers the blossoms, but no sooner had he put them in his mouth than he let them drop, for evidently he did not like the taste of the stringy leaves or the flowers. Nell now saw directly above her his trunk, which resembled an enormous black snake; it stretched and contracted, touched her little hands one at a time, then her arms, and at last it hung down and began to swing from side to side.
“I knew you would not hurt me,” repeated the girl, although still somewhat frightened.
The elephant flapped his huge ears, alternately extended and contracted his trunk, and gave the grunt of satisfaction that he always did when the girl approached the edge of the ravine.
Just as Stasch had once faced the lion, so now these two (Nell and the elephant) stood face to face—he, a monster resembling a house or a rock, and she a tiny crab that he, even if not angry, but merely careless, might trample under foot.
But the careful beast did not move an inch, and seemed delighted at beholding his little visitor.
Nell gradually took courage; at last, raising her eyes and looking up as if to a high roof, she timidly extended her hand and asked:
“May I stroke your trunk?”
The elephant did not understand English, but he immediately knew what she meant from the motion of her hand, and pushed the end of his two-yard-long nose into the palm of her hand. Nell began to stroke the trunk, at first only with one hand and very carefully, then with both, and at last she threw both arms around it and clung to it with childish confidence.
The elephant moved from one foot to the other, and grunted with satisfaction.
Soon after, winding his trunk around the fragile body of the girl, he lifted her high and began gently to swing her from side to side.
“More! More!” cried Nell, delighted.
This game lasted quite a while; the girl, who now had entire confidence in the elephant and was no longer afraid, thought of another plan, for on reaching the ground again she tried to climb up the foreleg of the elephant, as though climbing up a tree, or hid behind him, and asked him if he could find her. During these pranks she noticed that in the elephant’s feet, especially in its hind feet, there were a great many thorns, which the powerful animal was not able to extract, because, in the first place, he could not reach his hind legs readily with his trunk, and secondly, because he evidently was afraid of wounding the finger which forms the end of the trunk, and without which he would lose all his dexterity. Nell did not know that thorns in the feet torment Indian elephants, and especially their cousins in the African jungles, which mostly consist of prickly plants. Her sympathies were aroused for the kindly giant, and squatting down near one of his feet, she began to pull out the large thorns and then the small ones, chattering incessantly and assuring the elephant that she would not let a single one remain. He understood very well what was the matter, and bending his knee, he plainly showed that there were thorns in the soles of his feet between the hoofs protecting the toes, and these thorns were even more painful than the others.
Meanwhile Stasch had returned from hunting, and at once asked Mea where the little lady was.
On receiving the answer that she was probably in the tree, he was just going to look inside when he thought he heard her voice in the gorge. To make sure, he immediately sprang to the edge and looked down. He was so frightened at what he saw that the blood nearly froze in his veins. The girl was seated at the feet of the colossus, and the latter stood so quiet that but for the movements of his trunk and ears one might have thought him hewn out of stone.
“Nell!” screamed Stasch.
Earnestly engaged in what she was doing, she answered him cheerfully:
“In a minute! In a minute!”
The boy, who was not accustomed to postpone action when in danger, picked up his rifle with one hand, while with the other he grasped a dried liana stem, twisted both legs around it, and in a second swung himself down to the level of the narrow pass.
The elephant flapped his ears uneasily, but at this instant Nell arose, put her arms around his trunk and cried hastily, “Elephant, don’t be frightened; that’s Stasch!”
Stasch at once saw that Nell was in no danger, but even then his legs shook under him and his heart beat violently. But before he recovered from his fright he mumbled in an angry but sad voice:
“Nell, Nell, how could you do that?”
She began to excuse herself, saying she had done nothing wrong after all, for the elephant was kind and quite tame now, and she had only intended to take a closer look at him and then go back, but he had detained her by playing with her and carefully swinging her, and that if Stasch liked he would swing him, too. As she spoke these words she lifted the end of his trunk with one hand, and drawing it toward Stasch, she waved the other hand from side to side, saying:
“Elephant, rock Stasch, too!”
The intelligent animal guessed from her movements what she wanted, and in a second Stasch was grasped by the belt and swung through the air. Seeing him looking so angry and at the same time swinging through the air struck her as so comical, that she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks, and clapping her hands, she repeated as before:
“Elephant, swing Stasch, too!”
It was utterly impossible to maintain a severe demeanor and preach morality while hanging to the end of an elephant’s trunk and being involuntarily swung to and fro with clock-like regularity, so the boy at last laughed too. After a while, noticing that the trunk was moving more slowly, and that the elephant intended to put him down, a new idea seized him, and when near one of the elephant’s large ears he held on to it, and swinging himself onto the beast’s head, seated himself on his neck.
“Aha!” he cried, as he glanced down at Nell, “he shall know that he has to obey me.”
And with the look of a lord and master he began to feel around the head of the beast.
“Good!” cried Nell from below, “but how will you get down?”
“That’s very easy,” answered Stasch.
Dropping his legs down over the elephant’s head, he fastened them around the trunk and slid down as from a tree.
“That’s the way I shall get down.”
Now they both began to pull the remaining thorns out of the elephant’s foot, and he submitted very patiently to the operation.
Meanwhile the first drops of rain had begun to fall, so Stasch decided to take Nell back to “Cracow” at once. But an unexpected obstacle stood in their way, for the elephant would on no account part with her, but turned her round with his trunk and drew her toward him. The situation began to be serious, and on account of the obstinacy of the animal their happy play was in danger of ending badly. The boy did not know what to do, for it was now raining harder and a bad storm threatened. Both retreated a short distance toward the opening, but they had only taken a few steps when the elephant followed them.
At last Stasch planted himself between Nell and the animal, looked severely at him, and whispered to Nell:
“Don’t run away, but retire slowly and with measured step toward the narrow passage.”
“And you, Stasch?” asked the little girl.
“Return!” he repeated energetically; “for otherwise I shall have to shoot the elephant.”
At this threat she obeyed, especially as she now completely trusted the elephant, and she felt sure that on no account would he hurt Stasch.
The boy stood four feet away from the giant, his eyes riveted on him. Several minutes elapsed, then the situation became decidedly dangerous. The elephant’s ears moved backwards and forwards several times, and he had a peculiar twinkle in his little eyes; he raised his trunk suddenly.
Stasch turned pale.
“Death!” he thought.
But the colossus as suddenly turned to the wall of the narrow pass, where he was accustomed to see Nell, and began to trumpet more sadly than ever before.
Stasch now advanced toward the passage, and on the opposite side of the rock he found Nell, who would not return to the tree alone.
The boy felt inclined to say to her: “See what you have done! A little more and I should have perished, and you would have been to blame.” But this was not the time to reproach her, for the rain had become a storm, and it was necessary to get home as quickly as possible. Nell was quite wet, notwithstanding that Stasch had wrapped her in his own coat.
When inside the tree Stasch ordered the negress to change Nell’s clothes immediately. He released Saba, who had been tied up in the men’s room for fear he would scent the game and frighten it away; then Stasch began to hunt through all the clothing and baggage once more, in hopes of finding a small dose of quinine which might have been overlooked. But he found nothing. There only remained a little white powder in a corner of the bottom of the vessel which the missionary in Khartum had given him, but so little that it was hardly enough to whiten the tip of one’s finger. He therefore decided to pour boiling water into the receptacle and give this water to Nell to drink.
As soon as the storm subsided and the sun had come out again, he left the tree to look at the fish caught by Kali. The negro had caught about ten with a wire, which he had used for a line. Most of them were small, but there were three a foot long, with silver spots, and of very light weight. Mea, who had grown up on the banks of the blue Nile, and knew about the fish, said that these were very good to eat, and that at night they jump high out of the water. While cleaning them it was found that they were so light because they had large air bladders inside them. Stasch took one of these little skins, which was the size of a large apple, and showed it to Nell.
“Look,” said he, “this was inside the fish. A pane for our window could be made from a quantity of these bladders.” And he pointed to the upper opening in the tree.
Then he thought for a minute and added:
“And something else.”
“What?” asked Nell, very curious.
“Kites.”
“Like those you used to fly in Port Said? Oh, good! Make some like them!”
“I will; I will make the small frames out of thin strips of bamboo, and use these bladders instead of paper. They will be lighter and better than paper and the rain will not penetrate them. Such a kite will fly very high, and in a strong wind it will fly—Heaven knows where.”
Then he suddenly tapped his forehead.
“I have an idea!”
“What is it?”
“You will see. As soon as my plan is formed you shall know all about it. And now the elephant is trumpeting so loud we can’t hear ourselves talk.”
In fact, the elephant trumpeted so loudly and continuously because he was lonesome for Nell, and perhaps for both children, that it shook the whole gorge and the neighboring trees.
“If we let him see us,” said Nell, “it may quiet him.” So they walked toward the gorge. But Stasch, quite taken up with his new idea, began to mutter to himself:
“Nell Rawlison and Stanislaus Tarkowski, from Port Said, who have escaped from the hands of the Dervishes, are to be found——”
And taking breath, he asked himself:
“Yes, yes, but where shall I say—where?”
“What, Stasch?”
“Nothing, nothing! I have it now: ‘They can be found a month’s journey away to the east of the blue Nile—and beg for immediate assistance.’ When there is a north or west wind I will send up twenty, fifty, one hundred of such kites, and you, Nell, will help me to stick them together.”
“Kites?”
“Yes, and I tell you this much—they may be of more service to us than even ten elephants.”
Meanwhile they had reached the edge of the precipice, and once more the colossus began to move from one foot to the other, to shake himself, to prick up his ears, and as soon as Nell went away for a minute he began trumpeting again. At last the girl explained to the “dear elephant” that they could not always stay with him, for they had to sleep, eat, work, and attend to household duties in “Cracow.” He was only pacified when she threw down to him the food Kali had prepared for him, but in the evening the trumpeting began again. That night the children named him the “King,” for Nell insisted that before he entered the gorge he must have been the king over all the elephants of Africa.
[23]
Begonia Johnstoni.
During the days that followed, when it did not rain, Nell spent most of her time with King, who now made no objection to her going away, because he found that she returned frequently during the day. Kali, who was afraid of elephants, was very much surprised at this, but at last they convinced him that the great and good “Msimu” had bewitched the giant, and he too began to visit it. King was kindly disposed to him and also to Mea; but Nell was the only one who could do what she liked with him, and a week later she ventured to take Saba along with her. Stasch felt very much relieved, for without worry he now could leave Nell in the care of—or, as he expressed himself, “under the trunk” of—the elephant, go hunting, and sometimes even take Kali along without feeling any anxiety. He felt certain that the animal would not now leave them under any circumstances, and he began to ponder as to how he could release King from his imprisonment.
He had long ago fully decided on his plan of action; but the sacrifice it demanded was so great that he considered a long while before attempting it, and even then put it off from day to day. As he had no one else with whom to talk the matter over, he finally decided to confide his plans to Nell, although he still looked upon her as a child.
“The rock could be blasted,” said he, “but that would mean the destruction of a great many cartridges, for the bullets would have to be removed, and the powder poured out until enough was obtained. This I would put into the deep crevice in the middle of the rock, cover it up, and light it. The rock would then be blown to pieces, and we could let King out.”
“But suppose that were to make a dreadful noise—wouldn’t he be frightened?”
“Then let him be frightened!” replied Stasch quickly. “That is the least thing that worries me. Nell, it really is not worth while talking seriously to you.”
Nevertheless he continued talking, or rather thinking aloud:
“If too little powder be used the rock will not split, and the powder will be wasted, and yet if enough be put in there will not be much left over; besides, if it were to explode prematurely we might be killed. Then what would be left to hunt with, what to defend us with in case of an attack? You know quite well that if I had not had this rifle and these cartridges we should long since have lost our lives, either when in Gebhr’s hands or from starvation. We are lucky, too, in having horses, for by ourselves we could not carry either the baggage or the cartridges.”
Thereupon Nell put out her forefinger and said very emphatically:
“If I tell King to do it, he will carry everything.”
“What burdens will he have to carry; we have very few things left.”
“Nevertheless, he will protect us——”
“But he can not shoot game with his trunk as I can with my rifle.”
“Well, we can eat figs and the large pumpkin-like fruits that grow on the trees, and Kali can catch fish.”
“Yes, as long as we stay near a stream. We must stay here and wait until the rainy season is over, for these continual showers are sure to give you the fever. Remember that we must continue our journey later, and we may possibly strike a desert.”
“Like the Sahara?” asked Nell, much alarmed.
“No; but one without streams and fruit-trees and acacias and mimosas. In a place like that one can only live on game. King would find grass, and I antelopes, but if I have nothing to shoot them with King could not capture them.”
Stasch certainly had reason to be worried, for now that the elephant was tame and had become so well acquainted with them, it would not be right to desert him and leave him to starve; on the other hand, releasing him meant losing most of the ammunition and certainly risking death.
And so Stasch put the work off from day to day, every evening repeating to himself: “Perhaps I may think of some other way to-morrow.”
Meanwhile other troubles came upon them.
In the first place Kali had been terribly tortured by bees when he went far down the stream after a rather small gray-green bird, a so-called bee-hawk, well known in Africa. The black boy had been too lazy to smoke the bees out, and although he returned with some honey, he was so stung and swollen that an hour later he became unconscious. The “good Msimu,” with Mea’s assistance, drew out the poisonous stings, and then quickly made him poultices of wet mud. But toward morning it seemed as though the poor negro would die. Fortunately, good care and a strong constitution triumphed, but it was ten days before he regained his usual health.
In the second place, something had gone wrong with the horses. Stasch, who was obliged to tie them up and lead them to water during Kali’s illness, discovered that they were beginning to get very lean. This certainly was not caused by insufficient food, for the grass was very luxuriant after the rain, making very good pasture. And yet the horses dwindled before his eyes. A few days later their hair began to fall out, their eyes had lost their brilliancy, and a thick slime ran from their nostrils. Finally they refused to graze, and drank a great deal, as though consumed by fever. When Kali saw them they were nothing but skin and bones, and he knew at once what was the matter.
“Tsetse!” said he, turning to Stasch. “They must die!”
Stasch knew what this meant, for in Port Said he had often heard of an African fly called “tsetse,” which is such a terrible plague in certain places that in districts permanently infected with it the negroes own no cattle, for where circumstances favor its multiplying it destroys animals in no time. Horses, cattle, and donkeys which have been bitten by the tsetse-fly pine and die in a few days. Animals inhabiting these districts know the danger that threatens them, for entire herds of cattle, on hearing the buzzing near their watering-places, are so frightened that they stampede in every direction.
Stasch’s horses had been stung by these flies, and not only the horses, but the donkey, too. Kali rubbed them daily with a plant that smelled like an onion, which he found in the jungle. He said that the smell of it would drive away the “tsetse”; but notwithstanding all his efforts the horses continued to grow thinner. Stasch was terrified when he thought of what would happen if all the animals were to die. How could Nell, the rugs, the tent, the cartridges, and the crockery be taken along? There were so many things that at best King was the only one who could carry them. But to release King would mean sacrificing two-thirds of the gunpowder.
Further and greater troubles were now heaped on Stasch’s head, like the clouds in the heavens, which rained down incessantly in the jungle. And at last came the greatest misfortune, the one before which everything else seemed as nothing—the fever.
One day at table, just as Nell was putting a small piece of smoked meat into her mouth, she drew back suddenly, as if disgusted, and said:
“I can’t eat anything to-day.”
Stasch, who had found out from Kali where the bees were, and had smoked them out daily and taken the honey, was certain that the child had eaten too much of the sweets, and therefore he paid no further attention to her loss of appetite. But presently she arose and began to run quickly round and round the campfire, each time making larger circles.
“Don’t go too far away,” called the boy to her; “something might happen to you.”
But he was not afraid of any harm coming to her, for the presence of the elephant, whom the wild animals scented, and his trumpeting, that reached their keen, attentive ears, kept them at a respectful distance. This afforded protection to them as well as their horses, because even the most ferocious beasts of prey in the jungle, such as lions, panthers, and leopards, do not care to come in contact with an elephant, or in too close proximity to his tusks and trunk.
As the girl continued running faster and faster around the fire, Stasch followed her and asked:
“Nell, you little moth, why do you run around the fire like that?”
Though he asked this in a cheerful voice, he had begun to be alarmed, and his uneasiness increased as Nell answered:
“I don’t know; I can’t sit still in one place.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I feel so uncomfortable and queer——”
All at once she leaned her head on his shoulder, as if confessing a fault, and cried out in a voice stifled by tears:
“Stasch, I must be ill.”
“Nell!”
At the same time he laid the palm of his hand on her forehead, which felt dry and as cold as ice. Then he took her in his arms and carried her to the camp-fire.
“Are you cold?” he asked on the way.
“Cold and hot, but mostly cold.”
Her teeth began to chatter, and her body was shaking with chills. Stasch was now convinced that Nell had the fever.
He told Mea to take her at once into the tree, to undress her, and put her to bed. Then he covered her up with everything he could find, for he had noticed that in Khartum and Fashoda fever patients covered themselves up with sheep skins to induce perspiration. He decided to stay with Nell all night and give her hot water and mead to drink. At first she did not want to take it. By the light of their rudely made lamp Stasch noticed the glistening pupils of her eyes. Soon she began complaining of the heat and shivering at the same time, although covered with felt rugs and a shawl. Her hands and forehead were always cold, but if Stasch had only had a slight knowledge of the symptoms of the fever he would have seen from her great restlessness that she must have a very high temperature. He was terrified on noticing that when Mea appeared with hot water the girl looked at her with astonishment, even with fear, and did not seem to recognize her at first. But with him she talked rationally, told him that she could not lie down any longer, and begged him to let her get up and run about. Then she asked him whether he was angry with her for being ill, and on his assuring her that this was not the case she blinked to drive back her tears, and promised that she would be well the next day.
During this evening, or rather this night, the elephant was particularly restless and roared incessantly, which set Saba barking again. Stasch perceived that this excited the patient, and so he left the tree to quiet the animals. Saba was easily pacified, but it was more difficult to silence the elephant, and Stasch threw several melons down to him so as to close his trunk for a while. On his return he saw by the light of the fire Kali walking in the direction of the stream and carrying a piece of smoked meat on his shoulder.
“What are you doing, and where are you going?” he asked the negro.
The black boy stood still, and as Stasch approached he said with an air of secrecy:
“Kali goes to the other tree to place meat there for the bad Msimu.”
“Why?”
“So the bad Msimu will not kill good Msimu.”
Stasch wanted to reply, but a strange pain pressed like a weight on his chest, so he only bit his lips and went silently away.
When he returned to the tree Nell had closed her eyes; her hands, which lay on the felt rug, were trembling very much, but still she appeared to be dozing. Stasch sat down by her side, and as he was afraid of awaking her, he remained there motionless for some time. Mea, who was seated on the other side, toyed all the time with the little pieces of ivory hanging in her ears in order to keep awake. It had become very quiet, and only from the lower bed of the stream, in the direction of the swamp, could the croaking of the frogs and the mournful tooting of the toads be heard.
Suddenly Nell raised herself up in bed.
“Stasch!”
“Here I am, Nell.”
Then, shaking like a leaf blown by the wind, she eagerly began to search for his hand and to repeat hastily:
“I’m frightened; I’m frightened! Give me your hand!”
“Don’t be frightened. I’m here with you.”
And he grasped her hand, which now burned like fire, and having no idea what to do, he began to cover the poor, wretched little hand with kisses.
“Don’t be frightened, Nell; don’t be frightened.”
Then he gave her a drink of honey mixed with water, which had become cold. This time Nell drank greedily, and when he tried to take the cup away from her mouth she held his hands tight. The cold drink seemed to quiet her.
A long silence ensued. Half an hour later Nell raised herself up again, and there was a terrible expression of fright in her wide-open eyes.
“Stasch!”
“What is it, my dear?”
“Why,” she asked in a trembling, uncertain voice, “why do Gebhr and Chamis walk around the tree and look in at me?”
Stasch suddenly felt as if thousands of ants had taken possession of him.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “There’s no one here. Kali is the only one walking around the tree.”
But she stared through the dark opening and cried with chattering teeth:
“And the Bedouins! Why did you kill them?”
Stasch put his arm around her and pressed her to him.
“You know why! Don’t look over there! Don’t think of it! That happened long ago.”
“To-day! To-day!——”
This had happened a long time ago, but it always came back to her like the wave that rolls back upon the shore, and it filled the mind of the sick child with horror. All attempts to quiet her were unavailing. Nell’s eyes grew larger and larger. Her heart beat so hard that it seemed as if it would burst. Then she began to twist and throw herself around like a fish drawn out of the water, and that condition lasted till nearly morning. Not until daybreak did her strength give out and her little head sink back on the pillow.
“I’m weak, weak, weak!” she repeated. “Stasch, I seem to be falling down some place.” And then she closed her eyes.
At first Stasch was overcome, for he thought she was dead. But this was only the end of the first paroxysm of this terrible and treacherous African fever, two attacks of which are as much as a strong, robust person can stand—for nobody has ever survived a third attack. Travelers had often described the fever when at Mr. Rawlison’s house in Port Said, and even more frequently the Catholic missionaries whom Mr. Tarkowski entertained on their way back to Europe had told about it. It seems that a second attack comes on after a few days, and a third, which, if it does not appear within two weeks, is not fatal, for then it is considered to be the first attack of another case. Stasch knew that heavy doses of quinine alone could stop or alleviate the attacks, and he had not a particle of it left.
Seeing that Nell was still breathing, he became somewhat composed, and began to pray for her. In the meanwhile the sun appeared from behind the cliffs in the gorge, and it became bright daylight. The elephant was already demanding his breakfast, and from the direction of the stream the screams of the water-birds could be heard. As the boy wanted to shoot some birds to make a broth for Nell, he took the rifle and walked along the edge of the stream to a group of high shrubs, in which the birds generally perched for the night. But he was so exhausted from loss of sleep, and his mind was so preoccupied with the thought of the girl’s illness, that he did not see a swarm of birds, walking slowly in single file, that passed him on their way to drink. Another reason why he did not see them was that he was constantly praying. He thought of the deaths of Gebhr and Chamis and the Bedouins, and lifting his eyes toward heaven, he said in a voice drowned with emotion: “Dear Lord, I did this for Nell, for Nell; for otherwise it would have been impossible to have regained our freedom—but if I committed a sin, punish me, but restore her to health——”
On the way he met Kali, who had gone to see if the wicked Msimu had eaten the meat he had offered him the day before. The young negro, who loved the little “Bibi,” prayed for her, too, but in quite a different way. For he told the wicked Msimu that if “Bibi” recovered he would bring him a piece of meat every day, but if she died he would—although he felt frightened and knew he would perish—tear the wicked Msimu’s skin to shreds and cause him to remember him forever. But he took courage when he saw that the piece of meat he had placed there the day before had disappeared. It might have been devoured by a jackal, but then Msimu might have taken the form of a jackal.
Kali told Stasch of this favorable omen, but Stasch only gazed at him as if he did not understand, and went on his way. While vainly searching for birds in the shrubbery, he approached the stream. Its banks were thickly wooded with tall trees, from which hung, like stockings, nests of the Remizen—pretty little yellow birds with black wings—and also wasps’ nests, shaped like large roses, and resembling gray blotting-paper. At one point the stream formed a fairly broad, swampy plain, which was partly overgrown with papyrus. In this swampy stretch of land were many flocks of water-birds. There were storks, like the European ones, and others with large, thick, hooked beaks; velvety black birds with blood-red feet, flamingoes, ibises, and white spoon-bills with pink wings and spoon beaks, cranes with crowns on their heads, and a number of gulls, variegated or gray as mice, which, like tiny forest sprites, ran to and fro on their long, thin, straw-like legs.
Stasch shot two large, bright-colored ducks, and walking over dead white butterflies, which were strewn over the banks by the thousand, first making sure there were no crocodiles in the ford, he waded into the water and picked up the game. The shot had evidently frightened away the birds, for there remained only two marabous, that stood near the water at a short distance away. They resembled two old men, with bald heads bowed down on their shoulders. They did not move. The boy took another look at their ugly food bags, hanging down on their breasts, then finding that the wasps were surrounding him, he returned to the camp.
Nell was still asleep, so he gave the ducks to Mea and then stretched himself out on a felt rug and at once fell into a heavy sleep. He did not awaken until the afternoon, a little earlier than Nell. The girl felt somewhat stronger, and being slightly refreshed, she drank some good, strong broth, arose and left the tree to look at King and the sun. Only now, by daylight, could be seen the ravages made by the fever in one night. Nell’s skin was yellow and transparent, her lips were black, there were large circles under her eyes, and her little face looked much older. Notwithstanding that she assured Stasch she felt quite strong, and even though she had drunk a large cup of soup on awakening, she was hardly able to drag herself to the edge of the gorge. Stasch was terrified at the thought of the second attack. He had no medicine, nor anything else to help her.
Meanwhile, there were several heavy showers every day, and this greatly increased the humidity in the air.
They passed anxious days awaiting the return of the fever, but the second attack did not appear for a week, and though it was not so violent as the previous one, Nell felt much weaker after it. She had become so thin and had lost so much weight that she did not look like a girl, but rather like the ghost of a girl. The little flame of her life flickered so feebly that it seemed as if a breath would blow it out. Stasch realized that death would not have to wait for a third attack to carry her off, and he expected her death from day to day, even from hour to hour.
He, too, had become quite thin and dark, for these misfortunes were more than his bodily and mental strength could stand. Each day as he looked into Nell’s face he often said to himself, “My reward for having cherished her as the apple of my eye will be the privilege of burying her in the jungle!” Why it should have come to this he could not imagine. At times he reproached himself for not having taken sufficient care of her, and for not having treated her as kindly as he should, and then he felt such a pain in his heart that he could have bitten his fingers for grief. This misfortune was overwhelming.
Nell now slept almost continually, which perhaps saved her life. But Stasch awakened her several times during the day to give her some strengthening food. Whenever it was not raining she would beg him to carry her out into the open air, for she was unable to stand. It often happened that she went to sleep even as he carried her in his arms. She knew that she was very ill, and that she might die at any time. At first, when she was a little better and felt inclined, she would talk about it to Stasch, all the time crying, for she was afraid of death.
“I shall never return to papa,” she once said. “But you must tell him that the thought of it made me very sorry, and ask him to come here to me.”
“You will return,” answered Stasch.
But he was unable to say any more, for he wanted to cry.
And Nell continued in a scarcely audible and sleepy voice:
“And papa will come here, and you will come back here again, too, won’t you?” At this thought a smile lit up her tiny, wan face, and then she whispered still more softly:
“But I am so sorry——”
At the same time she leaned her little head on his shoulder and began to cry, but he, conquering his own emotion, pressed her to his heart, and answered quickly:
“Nell, without you I shall not return, and—and in fact I don’t even know what I should do without you.”
Both became silent, and Nell fell asleep again. Stasch carried her back to the tree, but hardly had he stepped out of the dwelling than Kali came running down from the highest point of the neck of land, gesticulating with his hands, and crying out in an excited and terrified voice:
“Great Man, Great Man!”
“What do you want?” asked Stasch.
And the negro extended his hand, pointing to the south, and cried, “Smoke!”
Shading his eyes with the hollow of his hand, Stasch gazed attentively in the direction indicated, the red light of the setting sun enabling him to see a column of smoke ascending in the midst of the jungle between the peaks of two rather high hills.
Kali trembled from head to foot, for he still had a vivid recollection of their capture by the Dervishes, and he felt sure that the smoke came from their camp.
At last Stasch also thought that it must come from Smain’s camp, and so for a moment he was as much frightened as Kali. This was the climax—to have, in addition to Nell’s deadly illness, the Dervishes come upon them, to be taken prisoners again, and carried back to Fashoda or Khartum in the hands of the Mahdi, or under Abdullah’s whip! If they should be captured Nell would doubtless die the very first day, and he would be a slave for life. For, even if he were to escape, what was life, what was freedom without Nell? How could he look into the eyes of his father or Mr. Rawlison if the Dervishes were to throw Nell’s body to the hyenas and he could not tell where her grave was?
Such thoughts shot through his head like lightning. Suddenly he felt an uncontrollable desire to look at Nell, and he went toward the tree. On the way he ordered Kali to put out the fire, and forbade him building it during the night; then he entered the tree.
Nell was not asleep. She felt better, as she immediately told Stasch. Saba lay at her side and warmed her with his enormous body; she softly stroked his head and smiled when he tried to catch the little grains of mold that were flying about in the streak of light which the last rays of the setting sun threw into the hollow of the tree. She was evidently in a more cheerful mood than usual, for a little later she turned to Stasch quite pleased and said:
“Perhaps I may not die after all.”
“You certainly will not die,” answered Stasch, “for as you feel stronger after the second attack, you will never have a third.”
And she began blinking as if trying to recollect something and then said:
“If I only had another little bitter powder, like the one that did me so much good the night after the lion visited us; you remember, don’t you? Then I should not even think of dying—not even so much——”
And with one of her little fingers she indicated how little she would be prepared for death in such a case.
“Ah!” cried Stasch excitedly, “what would I not give for a grain of quinine! I don’t know what!”
And he thought to himself that if he had enough quinine he would not hesitate to give Nell two little powders at once, then wrap her up in the shawl, place her on his horse, and go off immediately in the opposite direction from the camp of the Dervishes.
Meanwhile the sun had gone down suddenly and the jungle was in darkness. The girl talked for nearly half an hour, and then went to sleep, and Stasch continued to think about the Dervishes and the quinine. Although tortured by sorrow and fright, his extraordinarily clever brain began to build more and more daring plans. In the first place, he thought whether or not this smoke seen in the south was bound to come from Smain’s camp. It certainly might come from the Dervishes’ camp, but also from an encampment of Arabians, who penetrate the interior of the continent in search of ivory and slaves. These Arabs were in no wise connected with the Dervishes, who ruined their trade. It might also be a camp of Abyssinians, or some negro village in the mountains, into which the hunters after human beings had not yet penetrated. Would it not be more sensible to find out what it really was?
The Arabians of Zanzibar, from the districts of Bogamajo, Witu, and Mombasa, and the seashore, continually came in contact with the whites, and who could tell if the offer of a large reward would not induce them to conduct Stasch and Nell to one of the nearest seaports. Stasch knew quite well that he could promise them such a reward, and that they would believe his word. But another thought caused him great uneasiness, for he noticed that the Dervishes, especially those from Nubia, were almost as susceptible to fever in Khartum as the whites, and that they cured themselves with quinine, stealing it from the Europeans, or if the renegade Greeks or Copts had any secreted, they bought it at a great price. And so it was probable that the Arabians from the borders of the ocean would certainly have some of it.
“I will go there,” said Stasch to himself; “for Nell’s sake, I will go there!”
On thinking the matter over more carefully, he came to the conclusion that even if they should prove to be Smain’s party, he would have to go there. It occurred to him that, owing to the complete rupture between Egypt and Sudan, Smain might not have heard that they had been carried away from Fayoum. Fatima did not like Smain, and so the kidnapping must have been a plan of her own, which had been executed with the aid of Chamis (the son of Chadigi), and also of Idris, Gebhr, and the Bedouins. Now, Smain was not at all interested in any of these people, for the simple reason that Chamis was the only one of them that he knew, and he had never seen or heard of the others. He was only interested in his own children and Fatima. Perhaps he longed as much for them as they did for him, and would be glad to be able to return to them, especially if he were tired of being in the service of the Mahdi. He surely had not won a great prize while with them, for instead of being placed in command of a large army, or made ruler over a wide extent of territory, he was obliged to go, heaven knows how far back of Fashoda, to capture slaves! “I shall say to him,” thought Stasch, “ ‘If you will lead us to some harbor on the Indian Ocean and return with us to Egypt, the government will forgive you everything, and you will be able to rejoin your children and Fatima, besides which Mr. Rawlison will make you a rich man—if not, you will never see your children or Fatima again.’ ”
He was certain that Smain would think well of it and that he would scarcely refuse such an offer.
Of course this was only a surmise. In fact, while an investigation might prove their destruction, it might also prove their deliverance, and the only means of help in this African wilderness. Stasch felt surprised at himself for being terror-stricken at first at the thought of meeting Smain, but as it was necessary to procure assistance for Nell as soon as possible, he decided to go there that very night.
This was easier said than done. It is one thing to sit at evening before a fire in the jungle, behind a hedge of thorns, and another to penetrate the dense darkness and wade through the high grass, in which lions, panthers, and leopards, not to mention hyenas and jackals, prowl at this time of night. But the boy remembered what the young negro said the time when he went off one night in search of Saba and brought him back, “Kali is afraid, but he goes!” and he repeated to himself, “I may be afraid, but I will go.”
As the night was very dark, he waited until the moon rose, and when its light shone out over the jungle he called Kali and said:
“Kali, put Saba inside the tree, and block up the opening with thorns; you and Mea must guard the little lady as the apple of your eye while I go to see what kind of people are over there in that camp.”
“Great Man take Kali with him and also the rifle which kills wild beasts. Kali not stay behind!”
“You will remain,” said Stasch with decision. “I forbid you to follow me.”
He now paused a while, and then continued in a rather hoarse voice:
“Kali, you are faithful and smart, and I hope that you will do what I tell you. Should I not return, and should the little lady die, you must leave her in the tree, but round it you must erect a high hedge, and carve a mark like this in the bark——”
And picking up two bamboo sticks, he placed them together like a cross, and continued:
“And should I not return, and should Bibi not die, then you must serve her faithfully and respectfully, and you must lead her to your people, and tell the Wa-hima warriors to take her due east until the great ocean is reached. There you will find white people, who will give you weapons, gunpowder, glass beads, wire, and as much canvas as you can possibly carry. Do you understand?”
But the young negro knelt before him, clasped him round the knees, and sorrowfully pleaded with him, repeating:
“Oh, Bwana Kubwa! Return, return, return!”
Stasch was touched by the attachment of the black boy, and leaning down, he placed his hand on his head and said:
“Kali, go to the tree—and—God bless you!”
As he stood there alone, he thought about taking the donkey with him. It would certainly be safe to do so, for the lions in Africa (just as the tigers in India), on meeting a man riding, always attack the animal and not the man. But the question then presented itself that if the donkey were killed, who would carry Nell’s tent, and on what would she ride? When he thought of these contingencies he completely gave up the idea of taking the animal along, and began making his way through the jungle on foot.
The moon was already fairly high in the heavens, and it was now much lighter. But the boy’s troubles began at once, for he disappeared in the grass, which had grown so high that horse and rider could easily have hidden in it. Even in the daytime it was not possible to see a foot ahead, so one can imagine what it was by night, when the moonlight only shone over the surface, and lower down everything was bathed in utter darkness. Under such conditions it was easy to lose one’s way and travel in a circle instead of advancing. But Stasch took courage when he thought, in the first place, that the camp to which he was traveling could be at the most only three or four English miles away from the neck of land, and secondly, that the smoke had appeared between the peaks of two high hills; so by keeping the two hills in view he could not get lost.
But the grasses, mimosas, and acacias concealed everything. Fortunately, groups of ant-hills sometimes more than ten feet high, appeared here and there. Stasch carefully laid aside his gun when he came to each cluster of hills, and then he climbed to the top, and on seeing the hilltops outlined against the background of the dark sky, he climbed down again and continued his journey.
When he thought of what would happen if the sky should become overcast and the moon no longer shine, he was very much frightened. But that was not the only danger. In the dead silence of the night in the jungle every noise, every step, and almost every sound made by the insects as they creep through the grass can be heard. The sensation that comes over one is gruesome; and Stasch was terrified. He had to take precautions against all sorts of catastrophes. He was obliged to listen attentively, to keep watch on all sides, and to hold his head ready to turn round like a screw, and his rifle ready to shoot. Every minute it seemed as though some animal was lying in ambush, or was creeping up near him. From time to time he heard the grasses trembling and the tramping of animals running away. Then he thought that he must have frightened off the antelopes, for although one of their number always keeps watch, they sleep very lightly, knowing full well that amateur huntsmen do not go out hunting in the dark at this time of night. But now he sees something dark, large, under an umbrella-acacia. It may be a rock, a rhinoceros, or a buffalo, which on scenting a human being will awaken and immediately advance to attack him, and he also sees two glittering things behind a black stone. “Ha!” Rifle to shoulder! “That’s a lion! No!” False alarm! They are fireflies, for a tiny light rises in the air and glides over the grass, like a shooting star slanting downward. Stasch not only climbed the ant-hills to make sure that he was going in the right direction, but also to dry the cold perspiration which stood out on his forehead, to get his breath, and to wait until his heart should cease to palpitate. Besides, he was already so tired that he could hardly stand.
But he walked on, feeling that nothing must be left undone to save Nell. After two hours he came to a very stony place, where the grass was lower, and so it was much lighter.
The two peaks looked as far off as ever, but a little nearer there were some rocks running irregularly in a transverse direction, above which towered a taller rock, and they apparently encased a kind of valley or gorge, resembling the one in which King had been imprisoned. Now on the side of the cliff—about three or four hundred feet distant—he perceived the bright reflection of a flame.
He stood still. His heart was again beating so wildly that in the silence of the night he could hear it thump. Whom is he likely to encounter down there? Arabians from the eastern coast? Smain’s Dervishes? Or savage negroes, who have left their native villages, and fleeing from the Dervishes, have taken refuge in the most impenetrable forest of the mountains? Will he there find death, or imprisonment, or perhaps help for Nell?
It was impossible for him to turn back now, and besides, he had no inclination to do so; he crept slowly toward the fire, stepping as lightly as possible, and holding his breath. After he had gone about a hundred steps, he suddenly heard the neighing of horses in the jungle, and he stood still. By the light of the moon he counted five. The Dervishes would have had more, so he supposed that the others were probably hidden in the tall grass. But he was surprised that no one was watching them, or that at least a fire had not been left burning in order to frighten off the wild beasts. He thanked God that things were as they were, for he could now advance without attracting attention.
The light of the fire on the cliff became still plainer. In less than a quarter of an hour Stasch reached a place where the cliff opposite him was brilliantly lighted, which satisfied him that a fire must be burning directly below it.
Crawling on all fours, he crept carefully up to the side and looked down.
The first object that attracted his attention was a large white tent. Before the tent stood a canvas camp-bed, and on it lay a person wearing white European clothes. A small negro, apparently about twelve years old, was throwing dry wood into the fire, which illuminated the side of the cliff, and a row of negroes were sleeping on either side of the tent. The next moment Stasch slid down the slope into the bottom of the gorge.