Before Stasch and the young negro could dispose of the dead bodies of the Arabs and the carcass of the lion the sun had nearly set, and night was approaching. But they could not possibly pass the night near the corpses, and although Kali, stroking his chest and stomach with his hand, pointed to the dead lion as he smacked his lips, and repeated, “Msuri, nyama” (“good, good meat”), Stasch would not permit him to touch the “nyama,” but told him to catch the horses, which had run away at the report of the guns. The black boy executed this order very cleverly, for instead of following them into the valley—in which case they would have continued to run further away—he climbed up the side of the hill and so took a short cut across corners and headed off the frightened animals. In this manner he caught two of them easily, and the other two he drove toward Stasch.
But Gebhr’s and Chamis’ horses could not be found. Besides these there remained four saddle-horses, not counting the mule which carried the tent and the baggage, and which had been very calm throughout all these tragical events. The donkey was found behind a corner quietly grazing on the grass that grew in the bottom of the valley.
The Sudan horses are quite accustomed to the sight of wild animals, though they are afraid of lions. Therefore it took a great deal of persuasion to induce them to pass the rock and the pool of blood. The horses neighed, snorted, and drew their heads back at the sight of the bloodstained stones, but no sooner did the donkey prick up his ears and pass by quietly than they followed. Though night had now begun to fall, they walked on for a while, and only stopped on reaching a place where the valley narrowed once more into a small amphitheater mostly covered with thorns and prickly mimosa bushes.
“Sir,” said the young negro, “Kali will make a fire, a large fire.”
And he took a broad Sudanese sword which he had removed from Gebhr’s corpse and used it to cut down the thorns and large bushes. After he lighted the fire he continued to chop wood until he had a sufficient amount to last through the night.
Then he and Stasch began to set up on the steep side of the valley a small tent for Nell, which they enclosed with a broad and high prickly hedge shaped like a half moon, or with a so-called “Zareba.”
Stasch knew from descriptions given by African travelers that they are thus able to protect themselves against the onslaughts of wild animals. But there was not enough room behind the hedge for the horses, and therefore the boys removed the saddles, harnesses, and bags from the animals, and only tied their feet, so that when searching for grass and water they would not stray away too far.
In fact, water was to be found quite near, in a crevice of a rock which formed a small basin under the opposite boulder. There was enough to quench the thirst of the horses and some to spare for the following morning in which to cook the birds Chamis had shot. And in the baggage which the donkey carried, in addition to the tent, there were found some corn, a little salt, and a bundle of dried manioc roots, which were sufficient for a substantial meal. But only Kali and Mea had any appetite. The young negro, who had been half starved by Gebhr, ate enough for two. He was more than grateful to his new masters, and directly after the meal he fell down on his face before Stasch and Nell, to denote that he would remain their slave until his dying day; and he also showed great respect for Stasch’s rifle, possibly with the correct idea that it would be safer to obtain in advance the good will of such a powerful weapon. Then he declared that he would take turns with Mea watching over the “Great Man” and the “Bibi” while they slept, and that he would also see that the fire did not go out.
Then he immediately squatted down in front of them, crossed his legs, and hummed a little tune, in which he invariably repeated the refrain, “Simba kufa,simba kufa,” which in the Ki-swahili language means “The lion is dead.”
But neither the “Great Man” nor the “Small Bibi” felt sleepy, and Stasch had to coax Nell before he could induce her to taste a little of the bird and a few grains of the boiled corn. She said she could neither eat nor sleep, and that she only wanted a drink. Stasch was afraid she was getting the fever, but he was soon convinced to the contrary, as even her hands were cold. He was eventually able to induce her to go into the tent, where he had arranged a place for her to lie down, after having at first carefully looked to see if there were any scorpions in the grass. As for him, he sat down on a stone with his rifle on his arm, to guard her from an onslaught of wild animals, in case the fire should prove insufficient protection. He was overcome by fatigue and greatly exhausted, and repeated to himself over and over again, “I have killed Gebhr and Chamis and the Bedouins; I have killed a lion and we are free.” But he felt as though some one else were whispering these words to him and that he could not comprehend their meaning. He only knew that they were free, and at the same time something terrible had happened, which filled him with uneasiness and pressed like a heavy weight on his chest. At last his thoughts became indistinct. For a while he gazed at the moth which hovered over the flame, and at last he began to nod and doze. Kali, too, was napping, but awoke every now and then and threw branches into the fire.
The night was dark, and—what is very unusual near the equator—very quiet. Nothing could be heard but the crackling of the burning thorns and the flickering of the flames as they lighted up the promontories of the cliffs, which formed a half circle. The moon did not shine into the interior of the gorge, but millions of strange stars twinkled. The air had become so cold that Stasch awoke, sleepy and chilly, and he was alarmed lest the cold might harm little Nell.
However, he was reassured when he remembered that he had left for her, on the rug in the tent, the shawl which Dinah had taken away from Fayoum. He also remembered that they had unknowingly been riding up hill from the time they quitted the banks of the Nile, and that consequently now, after several days of travel, they ought to be fairly high up, so as to be beyond any danger from fever, which infested the land by the river. The penetrating chilliness of the night seemed to substantiate his opinion.
This thought gave him courage. He entered the tent for a moment to hear if Nell was sleeping peacefully, then he returned, settled down nearer the fire, and began to doze once more, and in fact soon fell fast asleep.
Suddenly Saba, who had stretched himself out to sleep at his feet, aroused him by growling.
Kali awoke also, and both began to look anxiously at the dog. He lay there tense as the string of a bow, pricking up his ears, with dilated nostrils, sniffing the air, and staring into the darkness in the direction from which they had come. The hair on his neck and his back stood on end, his chest expanded with his heavy breathing, and he growled.
The young slave hurriedly threw some branches on the fire.
“Sir,” he whispered, “take your gun, take your gun.”
Stasch took up his rifle and crouched in front of the fire so that he could get a better view of the dark bend of the gorge. Saba’s growls changed into a short bark. For a little while there was no sound; then from a distance Kali and Stasch heard a dull tramping, as though large animals were running toward the fire. This tramping resounded through the night, echoed from cliff to cliff, and increased every second.
Stasch felt that great danger was approaching. But what could it be? Perhaps buffaloes or a couple of rhinoceroses trying to find their way out of the gorge. In this case if the report of a shot were not successful in frightening them and causing them to retrace their steps, nothing could save the caravan, for these animals are just as vicious and liable to attack one as animals of prey; and they have no fear of fire, and destroy everything that comes in their way.
But what if it were a division of Smain’s expedition, which, after having discovered the corpse in the gorge, was hunting for the murderer! Stasch could not make up his mind as to which would be the better—a quick death, or to be put in prison again. At the same time it occurred to him that if Smain himself happened to be in this division he would most likely spare them, but if he were not there the Dervishes would either murder them at once or—which would be still worse—torture them terribly before putting them to death.
“Oh,” thought he, “let us pray that they are animals and not human beings.”
Meanwhile the tramping increased, and changed into the clatter of hoofs, until at last out of the darkness appeared fiery eyes, dilated nostrils, and manes disheveled from running.
“Horses!” exclaimed Kali.
These were really Gebhr’s and Chamis’ horses. They came running at a wild gallop, obviously driven on by fright, but as they rushed into the light and saw their captive friends they reared, neighed, pawed the ground with their hoofs, and then for a while stood motionless.
Stasch did not remove his gun from his shoulder. He was sure that behind the horses the disheveled head of a lion or the flat skull of a leopard might appear at any minute. But he waited in vain. The horses gradually quieted down, and what was more important, Saba stopped sniffing, and stretching himself out after the manner of dogs, turned round and round on the same spot, curled up and closed his eyes. If animals of prey had chased the horses, it was evident that they had slowly turned back on smelling the smoke or seeing the fire light reflected on the rocks.
“At any rate, something must have frightened them very much,” said Stasch to Kali; “because they were not afraid to run past the corpses of the men and lion.”
“Sir,” answered the boy, “Kali imagines what has happened. A great many hyenas and jackals have entered the gorge to reach the corpses. The horses have run away from them, and the hyenas did not pursue them because they were devouring Gebhr and the others—”
“That may be, but go now and take the saddles off the horses and bring the harnesses and the water-bags here. Do not be afraid; the gun will protect you.”
“Kali not afraid,” said the boy, and as he pushed aside some of the thorns that were next to the cliffs he stole out of the hedge, and at the same time Nell stepped out of the tent.
Saba arose at once, sniffed at her, and expected the customary caress. At first she stretched out her hand, but drew it back immediately, thoroughly disgusted. “Stasch, what has happened?” said she.
“Nothing; those two horses came running up here. Did their tramping awaken you?”
“I was awake before, and was just going to leave the tent, but——”
“But what?”
“I thought you would be angry.”
“I! Angry with you?”
Nell raised her eyes and gazed at him with a very peculiar expression, an expression he had never seen before. Over Stasch’s face then passed a look of surprise, for from her words and looks he saw that she was terrified.
“She is afraid of me,” thought he.
And for a moment he even felt quite satisfied. Then he thought that after all he had accomplished even Nell—who did not think of him merely as a full-grown man, but also as a terrible warrior, who inspires every one with fear—should look up at him and caress him. But this feeling of elation did not last long, for his sad experience had taught him to observe closely, and so he noticed that the girl’s restless eyes denoted not only fear, but a certain repugnance because of what had occurred, in consequence of the blood that had been shed and the horrors that she had witnessed this very day.
He also immediately remembered that a moment ago she had withdrawn her hand so as to avoid stroking Saba, for he it was who had killed one of the Bedouins. Yes, that was the reason, and did not Stasch himself feel it pressing like a nightmare on his chest. It was one thing to read at Port Said about the American trappers who killed the red-skinned Indians by the dozens in the Wild West, and another thing to do likewise one’s self, and to see men who were alive a short time before expiring in their last bloody agony. “Yes, certainly Nell is very much terrified, and she will always continue to have that feeling of repugnance. I am sure that she will fear me,” thought Stasch; “but in her heart of hearts she will unconsciously never forget to think ill of what I have done—and that is to be my reward for all I have done for her.”
His heart was bowed down by these thoughts, because he knew very well that if it were not for Nell he would have been killed or have fled long ago. Therefore it was for her sake that he had suffered so much hunger and pain, which only resulted in her standing there frightened, changed, entirely different from the little sister she was before, and who now raised her eyes to his with the old confiding look gone, and in its stead an expression of intense fear. Stasch suddenly felt very unhappy. For the first time in his life he realized what it was to be moved; unconsciously the tears started to his eyes, and if it had not been for the fact that it was not at all the proper thing for a fierce warrior to weep, he would most likely have done so, but he controlled himself, turned to the girl, and asked:
“Nell, are you afraid?”
And she answered softly:
“It is really—so terrible!”
Then Stasch told Kali to bring the rugs that lay under the saddles, and after placing one of them over the stones on which he had dozed before, he stretched out the second one on the ground and said:
“Sit down here by me near the fire; the night is cold, isn’t it? If you are very sleepy, rest your little head on me and go to sleep.”
And Nell could only answer:
“It is really too dreadful.”
Stasch wrapped her up tenderly and carefully in the shawl, and then they sat there silently for a while, leaning against each other, and illuminated by the ruddy firelight, which flickered on the rocks and shone on the mica scales that studded the slope of the cliff.
From the other side of the hedge the neighing of the horses could be heard, and now and again the sound of munching, as they chewed the grass between their teeth.
“Listen, Nell,” began Stasch; “I was obliged to do what I did. If the lion had not been satisfied in going for Kali, but had followed our party instead, Gebhr threatened to stab us. Do you understand? Now remember that he did not only threaten me, but you also, and he would have executed his threat, too. I will frankly tell you that if this threat had not been made I would not have shot them even when I did, though I had long contemplated it. I believe I would not have done it otherwise. But Gebhr drove me to the limit. Did you see how he tortured Kali and Chamis; how in the meanest way he betrayed us and sold us? But have you the least idea what would have happened if they had not found Smain? Gebhr would then have continually tortured me as well as you. It is awful to think that he beat you daily with the currycomb, and would have tortured us both slowly to death, and after our deaths would have returned to Fashoda and said that we had died of the fever. Nell, I did not do it to be cruel, but I had to think of how I could save you. I was only troubled on your account.”
And in his face there were many traces of the sadness that filled his heart. Nell saw and understood this clearly, for she drew up closer to him. But he fought against the momentary emotion and continued:
“I shall certainly not change, and I shall protect and guide you as before; but as long as they were alive there was no hope of delivery. Now we can flee to Abyssinia. The Abyssinians are black and savage, but are Christians and are also enemies of the Dervishes. If you keep well we shall succeed, as it is not very far to Abyssinia. And even if we should not succeed, even if we should fall into Smain’s hands, do not fear that he will take revenge on us. He has never in his life seen Gebhr or the Bedouins; he has seen Chamis only, but what has Chamis to do with him? In fact, we must not even tell Smain that Chamis was with us. If we succeed in reaching Abyssinia we are saved, and if not, even then you would be better off than now, for surely there are no more monsters like these in the world. Nell, dear, don’t be afraid of me.”
And to gain her confidence, and at the same time encourage her, he began to stroke her golden hair. The girl listened, at the same time raising her eyes shyly to his, for it was evident that she wanted to say something, but held back, hesitated, and felt afraid to speak. At last she bent her little head down so far that her hair completely hid her tiny face, and in even softer tones than before she said:
“Stasch, dear!”
“What, my dearest!”
“And they—they will not return?”
“Who?” asked Stasch, surprised.
“Those—the killed.”
“Nell, what are you saying?”
“I am frightened—I am afraid.”
And her pale lips began to tremble.
Silence reigned. Stasch did not believe that the dead could return to life, but as it was night and their corpses lay quite near, he did feel a little uneasy. Cold chills went down his back.
“Nell, what are you saying?” he repeated. “Dinah must have taught you to be afraid of the spirits of the dead.”
He did not finish the sentence, because at this moment something terrible happened. Suddenly through the dead silence of the night there rang forth from out the depths of the gorge, from the place where the dead bodies lay, an extraordinary, unearthly, terrible laughter, betokening despair, joy, cruelty, sorrow, sobs, and derision—the convulsive, spasmodic laughter of a lunatic or of a condemned man.
Nell shrieked and flung her arms round Stasch, and his hair stood on end. Saba got up suddenly and began to growl.
But Kali alone, who was quietly sitting near them, raised his head calmly and said reassuringly:
“The hyenas are laughing over Gebhr and the lion.”
The important experience of the day, now ended, and the impressions of that night, had so completely exhausted Stasch and Nell that when at last they were overcome by sleep they both slept so soundly that the girl only made her appearance outside the tent about mid-day; but Stasch arose somewhat earlier from the rug that was stretched in front of the fire, and while waiting for his little companion, he ordered Kali to prepare breakfast, which, on account of the lateness of the hour, was to serve at the same time for dinner.
The bright daylight drove away the apparitions of the night, and both awoke not only rested in body, but also refreshed in mind. Nell looked better and felt stronger, and as both wished to leave the place where the Sudanese who had been shot remained, they mounted their horses immediately after their meal and rode away.
Generally at this time of day all travelers in Africa take their mid-day rest, and even the caravans of negroes take shelter under the shade of large trees; these are, you know, the so-called “white hours”—hours of heat and silence—during which the sun shines unmercifully, looking down from the sky as though seeking for some one to kill. Every animal crawls back into the bushes, the song of the bird ceases, the humming of the insect stops, all nature sinks into utter stillness and hides, as though protecting itself from a cruel master. But they rode along the gorge, one of the walls of which threw a dark shadow, so they could go forward without exposing themselves to the heat. Stasch did not want to leave the gorge for the simple reason that if on top they could be seen from afar by Smain’s division, and also because in the hollows of the rocks it would be easier for them to find water, which trickled through the openings in the ground or dissolved into mist under the influence of the rays of the sun. The road always led imperceptibly up hill. On the walls of the cliffs could be seen deposits of sulphur from time to time; in consequence of which the water in the crevices smelt of it, and this reminded the two children very disagreeably of Omdurman and the Mahdists, who rubbed their heads with a mixture of sulphur and grease.
In other places came the musky odor of civet-cats, and cascades of lianas hung from high promontories down to the bed of the gorge, spreading a sickening smell of vanilla.
The little travelers were glad to halt in the shadow of these embroidered curtains of purple flowers, whose leaves served as food for the horses. There were no animals to be seen, except from time to time monkeys squatted on the edges of the rocks, like silhouettes against the sky—resembling fantastic African idols or the figures that adorn the corners of temples in India. These overgrown men with manes showed Saba their teeth, screwed up their mouths to show their astonishment and anger, and at the same time hopped, blinked their eyes, and scratched their backs. But Saba, being quite accustomed to seeing them, paid little attention to their threats.
They now made rapid progress. Joy over their regained freedom drove from Stasch’s breast the nightmare that had frightened him during the night. Now he was only disturbed by the thought as to what course he should take and how he could guide Nell and himself out of this place, in which a new imprisonment by the Dervishes threatened them, what course they could plan to aid them during the long journey through the desert to keep them from perishing of hunger and thirst, and lastly, in what direction they should direct their steps. Stasch remembered that, when with Hatim, he heard that the distance from Fashoda to the frontier of Abyssinia was not more than five days’ journey as the bird flies, and he reckoned that this would be about one hundred English miles. But it was now two weeks since they left Fashoda; it was therefore certain that they had not taken the shortest way, but that the search after Smain had led them much farther south. He remembered that on the sixth day of the journey they passed a river which was not the Nile, and that then, before the ground had become hilly, they had ridden past great swamps.
In the school at Port Said the geography of Africa was very thoroughly and carefully taught, and Stasch remembered that in describing Ballors mention was made of an almost unknown stream that ran through swampy land—the Soba River—and flowed into the Nile. He was not quite sure whether or not they had passed by this particular stream, but at any rate he thought they had. He also remembered that when Smain wanted to capture slaves he did not seek them in the eastern extremity of Fashoda, as the people of that district had been destroyed by the Dervishes and the smallpox; but he preferred the road toward the south, in districts which had not been discovered by previous expeditions. Therefore Stasch concluded that they were probably following in Smain’s tracks. This thought at first frightened him, and he began to consider whether they ought not to desert the gorge, which it was plain continued toward the south, and march straight toward the east.
But after some consideration he gave up the idea; on the contrary, thought he, the safest course would be to follow the footsteps of Smain’s company at a distance of two or three days behind them, for it was quite uncertain whether Smain with his merchandise of human beings would return by the same route instead of taking the straight course toward the Nile. Stasch also knew that Abyssinia could be reached only from the south, where this country borders the desert, and not by the eastern frontier, which was strictly guarded by Dervishes. Consequently he decided to advance as far as possible toward the south.
One might very likely come across negroes there, either those who had settled there or those who had taken refuge there from the banks of the White Nile. But if he had to choose between the two evils, Stasch would rather deal with the blacks than with the Mahdists; besides he also reckoned that, in case they should strike fugitives or settlers, Kali and Mea could be of assistance to him. A mere glance at the negress showed that she belonged to the tribe of Dinka or Schilluk, for she had exceptionally long, thin legs and large feet, which are typical of both these tribes, which live on the banks of the Nile and wade through its bed like storks and cranes. Kali, on the contrary, although he had become as thin as a skeleton when in Gebhr’s hands, now presented quite a different aspect. He was small and heavily built, had strong arms, and, in comparison with Mea, proportionately short legs and small feet.
As Kali did not understand a word of Arabian, and only spoke the Ki-swahili language very badly (a knowledge of which will make one understood nearly everywhere throughout Africa, and which Stasch had practically learned from the Zanzibar negroes working on the canal), it was evident that he came from some remote district.
Stasch therefore decided to ask him where he did come from.
“Kali, what is the name of your nation?” he inquired.
“Wa-hima,” the young negro answered.
“Is it a great nation?”
“A very great one, which wages war with the wicked Samburu, and captures their cattle.”
“And where is your village?”
“Far away, far away—Kali does not know where it is.”
“In a land like this?”
“No. In that country there is a great body of water and also mountains.”
“What is the name of this sheet of water?”
“We call it ‘The Great Water.’ ”
Stasch thought that perhaps the boy had come from the Albert Nyanza district, which until the present time was in Emin Pasha’s hands, and to make sure of this he inquired further.
“Doesn’t a white chief live there who has black smoking ships and soldiers?”
“No; the old people tell us that they have seen white people,” and with this Kali raised his fingers, counting one, two, three. “Kali has never seen them, because he was not born there, but Kali’s father received them and gave them many cows.”
“What is your father?”
“King of the Wa-hima.”
Stasch was not a little flattered at the thought that he had a prince for his servant.
“Would you like to see your father?”
“Kali wants to see his mother.”
“And what would you do if we met Wa-hima people? And what would they do?”
“The Wa-hima would fall on their faces before Kali.”
“Then conduct us to them and you can stay with them and reign as your father’s heir, and we will ride on toward the sea.”
“Kali will not meet them and will not stay there, for Kali loves the ‘Great Man’ and the ‘Daughter of the Moon.’ ”
Stasch turned round cheerfully to his companion and said:
“Nell, you have become a Daughter of the Moon.”
But as he looked at her he suddenly became sad, for it struck him that the little maid, who had suffered greatly from the fatigue of the journey, with her pale, transparent face in reality looked more like an inhabitant of the moon than a dweller on this earth.
The young negro also remained silent for a moment, then he continued:
“Kali loves Bwana Kubwa, for Bwana Kubwa did not kill Kali—only Gebhr killed him—he gave Kali plenty to eat.”
And he stroked his chest and stomach and repeated with visible delight:
“Plenty of meat, plenty of meat.”
Stasch would have liked to find out how the boy had been imprisoned by the Dervishes, but it turned out that on a certain night after he had been captured in one of the trenches dug to entrap zebras, he had already been through so many hands that one could not decide from his answer through what countries and by what route he had at last reached Fashoda. Stasch was impressed by what he said about the “Great Water,” for if he had come from the district of Albert Nyanza, Albert Edward Nyanza, or even from the Victoria Nyanza, round which the kingdoms of Unyoro and Uganda lie, he would undoubtedly have heard something of Emin Pasha, his soldiers, and steamers, which raised consternation and fear in the minds of the negroes. The Tanganyika was too far distant, and so the only supposition that remained was that Kali’s race must have its home somewhere in the vicinity of the waters of Rudolf and Stefanie. These lands were also fairly remote, but the expedition was at least half way on its journey, so while the lands could not be said to be very near Fashoda, still they were near the place where the travelers now were—and it was quite possible that they might meet the Wa-hima.
After a ride of many hours the sun began to set, and the heat had abated considerably. They reached a wide plain, where there was water and where wild figs grew, so they made a halt to give the horses a rest and to refresh themselves with food. As the walls of the cliffs were lower at this point, Stasch ordered Kali to climb up and look around to see if there was any smoke.
Kali obeyed, and was soon on the edge of the cliffs. He carefully noticed everything on all sides and then slid down on a thick liana, and said that there was no smoke, but “Nyama.” It was easy to guess that he did not mean birds, but some kind of big game, for he pointed to Stasch’s rifle and then put his finger to his head as a sign that they were horned animals.
Then Stasch climbed the height, and carefully raising his head over the edge of the cliff, began to look around.
Nothing interrupted the view, for the high jungle had been destroyed by fire, and the new one, shooting forth from the charred earth, was scarcely a foot high. All around as far as eye could reach were scattered tall trees still growing, whose trunks had been scorched by the flames. In the shade of one of these trees a herd of antelope was grazing, their bodies resembling horses and their heads buffaloes. The sunlight peering through the branches made bright spots of light on their brown backs.
There were nine of them, and they were not more than a hundred feet away. As the wind was blowing from the animals toward the ravine, they continued feeding quietly, fearing no danger. Stasch, who was desirous of providing meat for the caravan, fired upon the nearest animal, which fell as though struck by lightning. The others fled, and with them a huge buffalo, which they had not seen before, because it had been hidden by a large stone. The boy’s pride as a huntsman was aroused, and waiting for the animal to turn round, he sent a bullet through it. The buffalo swayed heavily as soon as it was hit, and ran off; and before Stasch was able to change his cartridges it had disappeared behind a hillock. Before the smoke had cleared away Kali ran to the antelope and ripped it open with Gebhr’s knife. Stasch went up to him to get a nearer view of the animal, and was much surprised when the young negro took the liver of the antelope, which was still warm, in his blood-stained hands and presented it to him.
“Why do you give it to me?” said he.
“Msuri! Msuri! Bwana Kubwa, eat now.”
“Eat it yourself,” answered Stasch, disgusted at the suggestion.
Kali did not wait to be told twice. He at once began to tear the liver to pieces with his teeth and greedily swallow the raw bits. But seeing that Stasch looked at him with disgust, he did not stop between mouthfuls, but continually repeated, “Msuri! Msuri!”
After Kali had eaten more than half the liver, he began skinning the antelope, which he did very quickly and so dexterously that the skin was soon removed. Stasch was surprised that Saba was not there to help in this work, so he whistled to invite him to the feast.
Saba did not come, but Kali, who was bending over the antelope, looked up and said:
“The big dog has gone after the buffalo.”
“Did you see him?” said Stasch.
“Kali saw it.”
As he said this he lifted the body of the antelope with both hands, and placing it upon his shoulder, he went off toward the gorge.
Stasch whistled once more and waited, but as he found that it was of no avail, he followed Kali. In the gorge they found Mea busily cutting thorns from the hedge, and Nell, who was plucking their last bird with her tiny fingers, said:
“Did you whistle for Saba? He ran after you.”
“He ran after a buffalo which I shot and I am worried about him,” answered Stasch. “These animals are so large and powerful that even a lion is afraid to attack them. If Saba should try to fight one of them he would fare badly.”
When Nell heard this she was worried also, and declared that she would not go to bed until Saba returned. When Stasch saw how grieved she was he felt angry with himself for not having concealed the danger from her, and he tried to console her.
“I would have followed them with my rifle, but now they must be far away; besides, night is approaching and their trail can not be seen. The buffalo was hit squarely, and I hope it will fall. At any rate, it will be so much exhausted from loss of blood that even if it were to fall upon Saba, the dog could run away in time. Yes, he may not return till night, but he will surely return.”
Stasch himself did not believe what he said, because he remembered what he had heard about the vindictiveness of the African buffalo, which, even when severely wounded, runs round in a circle and watches to see which way the hunter goes, so as to attack him unawares, tossing him high in the air with its horns. Quite likely Saba might have met with a similar fate, besides other dangers to which he might be subjected in his journey by night.
As soon as it had become dark Kali and Mea managed to make a hedge fence, light a fire, and get supper ready. But even then there was no sign of Saba.
Nell became very uneasy and began to cry. Stasch insisted on her lying down and going to sleep, and he promised her to wait up for Saba and to look for him and bring him back as soon as daylight appeared. Nell entered the tent, but thrust out her little head continually to inquire if the dog had returned. She did not fall asleep till after midnight, when Mea left the tent to relieve Kali, who until now had watched by the fire.
“Why does the Daughter of the Moon cry?” asked Kali, and Stasch, as they both lay down on thin wooden benches to sleep, said:
“She is worried, fearing that Saba is killed by the buffalo.”
“Perhaps he has killed it,” answered the young negro.
Then they stopped talking and Stasch went fast asleep. He awoke while it was still dark because it had become colder. Mea, who was supposed to be on the watch, had fallen asleep, and so it had been some time since she had put dry wood on the expiring flames.
No one was lying upon the felt quilt on which Kali had slept.
Stasch threw firewood on the glowing ashes, nudged the negress and asked:
“Where’s Kali?”
For a time she stared at him as though in a trance, and then, when wide awake, she said:
“Kali has taken Gebhr’s knife and gone outside of the hedge. I thought he went to get more wood for the fire, but he has not returned yet.”
“Has he been gone a long while?”
“Yes, a long while.”
Stasch waited some time, but as the negro did not return, he reluctantly asked himself, “Could he have run away?”
He felt a pain in his heart like that experienced by those who have met with ingratitude. He had befriended Kali and protected him when Gebhr tortured him daily, and had eventually saved his life. Nell always liked him, she wept over his misfortunes, and they both were as kind as could be to him, and yet he had now run away! He often said that he had no idea in which direction the settlements of the Wa-hima lay, and that he could not find his way there—and still he had run away.
Stasch again remembered the description of travels in Africa which he had read in Port Said, the accounts of the travelers, the stupidity of the negroes in throwing away the luggage and deserting—for even if threatened with the punishment of certain death they did so just the same. Evidently Kali, whose only weapon was a Sudanese sword, would succumb to starvation or be recaptured by the Dervishes, unless devoured by wild beasts.
“Oh, the ungrateful wretch! And what a fool!”
Stasch seriously began to think how much more difficult the journey would be for them without Kali and how much more heavily the work would fall on the others. To water the horses and tie them for the night, to put up the tent and the hedge, to guard the luggage and to see that the provisions were not lost, to skin and cut up the slain animals, all duties which Kali had performed, would, through loss of the negro, fall to his share, and he was obliged to confess to himself that he had no definite idea how to do many of these things, as, for instance, skinning animals.
“Well, what else can I do?” said he. “It will have to be done.”
Meanwhile the sun appeared above the horizon, and, as is always the case at the equator, it was daylight in a minute. A little after this the water in the tent, that Mea had prepared for the little lady to wash in, began to splash, by which Stasch knew that Nell had arisen and that she was dressing. Somewhat later she appeared completely dressed, but with her comb in her hands and her hair not arranged.
“What about Saba?” asked she.
“He has not returned yet.”
The corners of the girl’s mouth began to tremble.
“Perhaps he will come back yet,” said Stasch. “You remember that sometimes in the desert he was missing for two whole days, and yet he always came back to us.”
“You said that you were going to look for him.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not, Stasch?”
“Because it is impossible for me to leave you alone with Mea.”
“And Kali?”
“Kali is not here.”
He drew back, debating with himself whether or not he ought to tell her the whole truth; but as it would be impossible to hide it, he concluded that it would be better to tell her everything.
“Kali has taken Gebhr’s sword,” he said, “and he went away during the night, no one knows where. Who can tell? He may have run away. Negroes often do this, even to their own detriment. I am sorry—but perhaps he will now see that he has acted foolishly and——”
The next words were drowned by Saba’s joyful bark, which penetrated the gorge. Nell threw down the comb and tried to run toward him, but the thorns in the hedge prevented her.
Stasch at once began to tear down a part of the hedge, but before he had succeeded in even making a passage Saba appeared, and behind him Kali, shining and wet with dew as though soaked through by a very heavy shower.
Both children were overcome with joy, and as soon as Kali, who was so fatigued from his exertions that he could scarcely get his breath, reached the inside of the hedge, Nell threw her little arms around his black neck, hugging him tight.
“Kali does not like to see the Bibi cry,” he said, “so Kali looked for the dog and found him.”
“Good Kali,” cried Stasch, patting him on the shoulder; “and were you not afraid that you would meet a lion or a leopard during the night?”
“Kali afraid, but Kali go,” answered the young man.
These words endeared him still more to the children. At Nell’s request Stasch took from one of the bundles a string of glass beads which the Greek Kaliopuli had given them when they left Omdurman, and placed them around Kali’s neck. He was delighted with the gift, and looking proudly at Mea, said:
“Mea has no glass beads, but Kali has, for Kali is ‘Great World.’ ”
In this way the sacrifice of the black boy was rewarded. Saba, on the contrary, received a severe reprimand, from which he was made to understand for the second time during the period he had been with Nell, that he was very naughty and that if he ever did such a thing again he would be led by a leash like a small dog. He listened to this sermon while wagging his tail with rather a double meaning. But Nell was sure that she saw by the expression of his eyes that he was ashamed, and that he had really blushed for shame, but that could not be perceived, because his cheeks were covered with hair.
Then breakfast followed, and during this meal Kali recounted his adventures, and Stasch translated them into English for Nell, who did not understand the Ki-swahili language. It so happened that the buffalo had run very far off, and it had been difficult for Kali to find his trail, for there was no moon that night. As good luck would have it, it had rained two days before, and the earth was not very hard; therefore the feet of the heavy animal had made their impress in the wet earth. Kali searched for the trail by observing the cleft in the hoofs, and followed his footprints for some time. At last the buffalo stumbled and must have fallen over dead, for there were no traces of a struggle between him and Saba. When Kali found them Saba had already eaten the largest part of one of his forefeet, but although he could not eat any more himself, he would not permit two hyenas and several jackals, that stood round and waited until the stronger animal of prey had had his fill and gone away, to approach the meat.
The boy complained that the dog had even growled at him, but then he threatened him with the displeasure of the “Great Man” and “Bibi,” caught him by the collar, dragged him away from the buffalo, and did not let him loose until he reached the gorge.
With this, the story of Kali’s adventures by night ended, then they all mounted their horses and rode on contentedly.
All but the long-legged Mea, who, although quiet and submissive, looked enviously at the necklace adorning the throat of the young negro and on Saba’s collar, and thought sadly to herself:
“They are both ‘Great World,’ but I have only a ring on one foot.”
During the three following days they continually traveled through the gorge and, as it so happened, always up hill. The days were unusually warm, the nights alternately cold and sultry. The rainy season was approaching; here and there milk-white clouds heavy with rain hung low down close to the horizon. Occasionally strips of rain could be seen, and far off was a rainbow. On the morning of the third day one of these clouds burst over their heads like a broken cask whose hoops had sprung and deluged them with warm rain, but as good luck would have it, it did not last long, and then the weather was fine once more, and they were able to continue their journey. Now birds appeared in such quantities that Stasch could shoot and bring down five of them without dismounting, which more than sufficed for one meal and also enough for Saba. Riding in the brisk air was not at all fatiguing, and a quantity of wild game and plenty of water removed all fear of hunger and thirst. They were getting along so well that Stasch was always good-natured, and while riding by the side of the girl he talked cheerfully with her, and even joked occasionally.
“Nell, do you know,” said he, as they halted for a short time under a big breadfruit tree, from which Kali and Mea cut off large melon-shaped fruits, “it sometimes seems to me as though I were a wandering knight.”
“And what is a wandering knight?” asked Nell, turning her pretty little face toward him:
“A long, long time ago, in the Middle Ages, there were such knights, who rode about the country looking for adventures. They fought with giants and dragons—and do you know each one had his lady, whom he protected and defended.”
“And am I such a lady?”
Stasch thought a moment and then answered:
“No; you are too young for that. Those ladies were grown up——”
And the idea never struck him that perhaps never had wandering knight ever served lady so faithfully as he had his little sister. He took everything that he had done for her as a matter of course.
But Nell felt hurt by his words, and screwing up her mouth into a pout, she said:
“You once told me in the desert that I acted like a big girl of thirteen. Ah!”
“Only once; but you are merely eight years old.”
“But in ten years I shall be eighteen.”
“Oh, that is a great while off, and then I shall be twenty-four, but at that age a man does not think about any lady, for he has something quite different to think of then; that is very evident.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“By that time I shall be an engineer or a mariner, or, if war were to break out in Poland, I should travel there, to fight as my father fought.”
Then she asked uneasily:
“But will you positively return to Port Said?”
“For the present we both must return there.”
“To our little papa,” sighed the girl.
And immediately her eyes were veiled by sadness and homesickness. As good luck would have it, a swarm of beautiful gray parrots, with pink heads and rose-colored down under their wings, flew toward them. The children immediately forgot what they had been talking about, and their eyes followed the flight of the birds.
The flock of parrots flew over a group of Euphorbia and came down upon a neighboring sycamore, through the branches of which could be heard voices that sounded like a chattering council, or a terrible quarrel.
“These are the parrots that learn to speak the most readily,” said Stasch. “As soon as we make a longer halt I will do my best to try to catch one for you.”
“Oh, Stasch, I thank you,” cried Nell joyfully. “I will call him ‘Daisy.’ ”
Mea and Kali, who meanwhile had been plucking the fruit from a breadfruit tree, now loaded up the horses with them, and the little caravan continued on its way.
In the afternoon it clouded over again, and several times there was a short shower that filled all the crevices in the ground with water. Kali prophesied a heavy storm, and it occurred to Stasch that in this case the gorge, which had become narrower and narrower, would not be a safe resting-place for the night, as it would most likely become the bed of the stream. So he decided to spend the night above the gorge, and Nell was delighted at this, especially when Kali, who had been sent out to reconnoiter, returned, announcing that not far from where they were was a forest of many kinds of trees, in which little monkeys were disporting themselves; but these monkeys were not ugly and vicious as those they had seen before. Therefore as soon as they struck a place where the walls of the cliff were low and not too steep they led the horses up, and when it was dark they prepared for night. Nell’s tent was put up in a somewhat higher and drier place underneath a large ant-hill, which completely barred the entrance from one side and strengthened the hedge that led toward it.
In the vicinity stood an enormous tree with wide-spreading branches and heavy foliage, which would shelter them sufficiently from the rain. In front of the hedge grew scattered groups of trees, and further off was a dense woods filled with underbrush, above which could be seen the tops of strange palms resembling giant fans spread out like the tail of a peacock.
Stasch learned from Kali that before the beginning of the second rainy season—that is in autumn—it is dangerous to spend the night under these palms, because the huge fruit ripens, breaks off when least expected, and falls from its great height with such force that it might kill a human being, or even a horse. But at the present time the fruit had not matured. Before the sun went down little monkeys could be seen in the distance scrambling and playfully chasing one another in the tree-tops.
Stasch and Kali collected a sufficient quantity of wood for the night, and as occasional heavy waves of hot air blew toward them, they fastened down the hedge with pegs, which the young negro whittled with Gebhr’s sword, and drove into the ground. This precaution was very necessary, for the strong wind might break and tear down the thorn branches out of which the hedge was made, and thus make it easy for wild animals to attack them.
Soon after the sun went down the wind stopped suddenly, but on the other hand the air had become heavy and sultry. In the spaces between the clouds stars appeared occasionally, but later complete darkness settled down, so that one could hardly see a foot in advance. The little wanderers grouped themselves around the fire and listened to the chatter and screams of the monkeys, which were making a perfect pandemonium. In the neighboring woods the howls of the jackals and other strange sounds—through which could be heard the restlessness and the fear of that which under the veil of darkness in the wilderness threatens every human being—united to form an appropriate accompaniment.
Suddenly the stillness became intense, and in the darkness the growl of a lion was heard.
The horses, which were grazing nearby in the short jungle grass, began to approach the light of the fire by hopping with their chained front feet, and even then the hair of Saba, who was usually so courageous, bristled, and he crouched in front of his master with his tail drawn down, obviously seeking protection. The growl sounded again, this time as if coming from the bowels of the earth; it was a deep, heavy, long-drawn sigh, as if the animal had let it out of its powerful lungs with difficulty. The sound rolled on glidingly close to the ground, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, then becoming a deep, hollow, unearthly sigh.
“Kali, put more wood on the fire,” cried Stasch.
The negro threw an armful of branches on the fire with such haste and force that at first nothing but sparks ascended; then the flame blazed forth.
“The lion will not attack us, will he, Stasch?” whispered Nell, pulling the boy by the sleeve.
“No, he will not attack us. Look how high the hedge is——”
As he said this he positively thought that they were in no danger, but still he was worried about the horses, which pressed nearer and nearer the hedge and threatened to tread it down.
Meanwhile the sighing changed into a long-drawn-out thundering roar, enough to terrify any human being, for even creatures who know no fear tremble from head to foot, shaking like panes of glass at the report of far-off cannon.
Stasch threw a hurried glance at Nell, and seeing her quivering mouth and moist eyes, he said:
“Don’t be frightened. Don’t cry.”
She answered under a great strain:
“I don’t want to cry, but my eyes perspire so—oh!”
The last scream escaped from her lips because at that moment a second roar, far more powerful and much nearer than the first, rang out from the forest. The horses began to push themselves still nearer the hedge, and if the long, steel-like prickles of the acacia branches had not hindered them they would have broken through. Saba growled and trembled like an ivy leaf, and Kali began to repeat in a broken voice: