CHAPTER XIV
THE OVERHEAD PATH
"We were stopped by ants," said Mr. Hume, in explanation.
"By ants!"
"No less. I missed you not long after we had started, and passed the word on to the others to turn back. And in the mean time an army of marching ants had cut the line of communications.
"Couldn't you sweep them aside, or jump over?"
"I did not venture to try, my boy. I did try climbing across from tree to tree, but their skirmishers were everywhere. As for jumping across, I took the chiefs word for it, that the feat was impossible. Once that kind of ant gets a grip, he does not let go, except with the morsel he has fastened on to. And there were millions!"
"I can hardly imagine you were stopped by ants," said Compton.
"The ground before us was alive as far as we could see, and red. It was like standing on the bank of a river, and the myriads went on through the day until dusk. I have seen swarms of locusts on the march in the voetganger stage, and a large swarm will cover a length of three miles, but never would I have believed so many living things could gather together."
Compton laughed again. "Held up by an army of ants! I can't get the idea."
Mr. Hume rolled back his sleeves, and there were red marks from wrist to shoulder.
"And that was done only by the scouts on the tree I attempted to climb. Muata says they have put whole villages to flight."
"Eweh," said the chief, "and even the elephant will turn from their path, else would they get into his ears, his trunk, and to the soft parts between his legs, biting each a little piece of skin. They fear nothing. Death to them is nothing. I have seen them stop a fire by the numbers of dead they heaped upon it in their march."
"So we had to wait, and it was not a pleasant time for me. But, thank goodness, you are safe—aye, and safe, thanks to your own pluck."
"Dick did it all," said Venning. "I seemed to get dizzy all at once."
"I am not surprised," said Mr. Hume, looking grave; "and I think we ought to go back. The air is too heavy."
"After a good sleep I shall feel better," said Venning.
"It would be too bad to turn back."
"It would be too bad if you fell ill."
"What do you say, Muata?"
Muata lifted his hand. "Those who would cross the forest must be of the forest. Who are the people of the forest? Not those who live in the plains. Even the river-people are afraid to go far in. What are the creatures of the forest? They are those born among the trees, and those who dwell in the open seldom enter into the darkness and the quiet of the wood."
"Yet," said Compton, "there are people of the forest, and animals also, and they live." "For them are the trees."
"But when they go about they must travel under the trees."
"That is your word," said the chief. "But it must be so."
"Muata is right," said Mr. Hume. "We have only entered the fringe, and already we are different people. The lungs cry for pure air."
"Yet there is a way," said Muata; and his eyes fell upon the tawny hide of the tree-lion. "How, chief?"
"On top of the trees, not under!" cried Venning, who had seen that the chief was working up to some point.
Muata spread out his fingers gravely. "Even so," he said. "There are paths on the tree-tops known to the little people, and made by them. Maybe they will let us travel also by them."
The others stared at the chief in amazement; and even Venning, in spite of his intelligent anticipation, was too surprised to speak.
"There you can look upon the sky; there the wind blows fresh."
They looked up at the roof of branches, and then around into the sombre aisles.
"And where are the little people?" Muata smiled. "Who knows? They come like shadows, and like shadows they go. Even now they may be near watching to see if we are friends or enemies."
"You would not tell us an idle tale, chief. Let us hear what is in your mind."
"Stay here, my friends, while I seek the little men. Maybe, if I find them, they will put us on our way; but if I fail, then my word is that you go back to the river, lest the sickness of the woods come upon you."
"We will wait; but I have seen no signs of the little men. They may be far and difficult to find."
"They have watched us all the way," said Muata, calmly; "and it was in my heart that they had fallen upon the young chiefs in the night."
"Glad we didn't know," said Compton, thoughtfully.
Muata went off on his self-appointed task, and the white men felt, as they saw him disappear, how impossible it was for them to cope with the mystery of the forest. They were even more helpless than castaways at sea without a compass; for at sea in the day there is the clear sweep to the horizon miles away, while in the forest all they could be certain of was a little circle with a radius of less than fifty yards. Beyond that was the unknown, because unseen—a vague blur of trees that might be sheltering wild animals or savage men. And what made their helplessness the more felt, was the knowledge that Muata knew so much, and that others—the mysterious pigmies—knew still more. If there had been open glades, stretches of greensward, rippling brooks, or even a hard clean carpet such as is found under a pine forest, they would have been undismayed; but this gloomy, shrouded fastness, without glimpse of sunbeams, was becoming a nightmare.
Yet it would never do to become a prey to depression, for there is no danger so fatal to the explorer as low spirits, the forerunner of sickness.
By common consent they fought against a strong fit of the blues. Mr. Hume and Compton held a consultation over Venning, examined him, doctored him, and put him through the ordeal of a Turkish bath roughly made with the aid of the oil-sheets. After that he was rolled up in blankets and left to slumber. Compton was next treated in the same way, and then Mr. Hume busied himself with his note- book.
When the boys woke up in the afternoon, much refreshed, Muata had returned.
"Fall in, lads."
"Has he found them?" and the boys were up and glancing round for the pigmies.
"Yes; we are to go 'upstairs' at once."
"But where are they?"
"The little people have gone on," said Muata. "They will spy out on the man-eaters."
"You really did find them?"
"Ow aye; they know Muata. They and I have been on the path before, else they would have fallen on the young chiefs in the night—for they saw. The killing of the fierce ones much rejoiced them. It opened their lips about the upper way."
"We are ready," said Compton, "for the upper way—for the trapeze and the aerial flight."
Muata struck off into the woods, and the rest crowded on him, glancing up at every tree for signs of the new track.
"Behold the road," said the chief, showing his white teeth in a rare smile, as he caught in his hand a trailing vine that swung clear from the neighbouring growth, and reached up forty feet or so to a thick branch.
"Are we to swarm up that?"
Muata nodded.
"And what will you do with the jackal?"
The chief turned a look of disgust at his bloated ally. "He will follow underneath;" and reaching up, tie went hand over hand, using his toes very much like fingers to help. Then he lowered a rope which he had coiled round his waist; and Mr. Hume, putting the loop under his arm, trusted his weight to the swaying vine. Venning and Compton followed, with the help of the rope, but the river-man declined. He preferred to travel on the firm ground with the jackal. From the branch the four passed to the fork of the tree and held on.
"I don't see any path," said Venning.
"Nothing in the shape of a foot-bridge that I can see; and it would not be quite safe to fall, would it?" replied Compton, as he glanced down.
Muata went on up into the topmost branches, and, when they followed him, they found a small platform of saplings lashed to the branches by vines, and from this vantage they looked out over a wonderful sea of leaves, reaching unbroken as far as eye could reach, with billows and hollows, patches of light and shade, and splashes of colour where red flowers gleamed. And it was good to see the domed sky, the white clouds racing low, with shadows moving swiftly over that sea of leaves; to see the flight of birds, and to hear the voices of living things.
The tree on which they stood was very tall, but there were others as tall, standing up like rocks out of the sea; and when they grew accustomed to the strange surroundings, they saw something peculiar in the shape of these tree islands. They were cleft through the centre, leaving a narrow passage, quite distinct to any one standing in line—as they were, for instance—with the domed head of a tall tree about three hundred yards away.
"That is our way," said Muata.
"But where is the foothold?"
Muata pointed to notches cut in a lateral branch, and walked to the end of it, steadying himself by holding to a guiding branch above; then passed over the slight intervening distance between the last notch and the next tree by swinging on a vine tendril, otherwise a "monkey-rope."
The others followed very gingerly, for the feat was like walking on a yard-arm, but each in turn reached the farther tree. After a little, as they went on, now walking, now swinging, they all were able to pick up the singular track by the notches, by the lay of the lateral branches, and by the absence of projecting twigs along the course. These had all been cut back, leaving a sort of tunnel, not easily discernible, however, because of its undulating character to accommodate itself to the varying height of the trees. They very soon found two obstacles in the way of easy progress, due to the small size of the engineers who had designed this extraordinary road. In the first place, the notches on the branches were too small; and in the next, the tunnel was too low for their height, so that they had to stoop; while it was also evident that the overland swing-bridges between the trees were too frail for their weight. They quickly, therefore, resorted to their Ghoorka knives and to the rope. Venning, being the lightest, crossed over first by the monkey vine-bridge, when he made the rope fast to his end. It was then secured at the other, enabling the heavy weights, Mr. Hume and the chief, to pass next, Compton bringing up the rear with the rope round his waist, to guard against a fall in case of accident. Naturally, their progress was at first very slow, though not so much slower than it would have been had they to force a way through the undergrowth below; and the river-man found his work cut out to keep pace underneath when at times he encountered dense thickets.
By the time they had covered the three hundred yards and reached the next platform, they were finding their "tree-legs."
They stopped a while to take their bearings, looking out on the same unbroken expanse of tree-tops, tossed up into all manner of inequalities, and then recommenced their acrobatic, performance, making for the next "station." With a few slips, a few scratches, and bruised shins, they kept on until they had covered about a mile, when the growing dusk warned them to form camp.
"We'd better go down below," said Mr. Hume.
"Not I," said Venning. "I had enough of down below last night; I'm going to sleep on deck, sir."
"Ditto," said Compton, emphatically; "and I don't see why we all should not camp out aloft. We could easily widen the platform, rig up the waterproof sheets as a tent, and haul up some mould to make a fireplace."
The idea was acted upon vigorously, the platform widened and strengthened, the roof pitched, the mould hauled up in a bag made out of one of the leopard skins, and the fire lit upon a foundation so made. They roosted high and secure, but they could not claim in the morning that they had passed a pleasant night, for the bed was hard, the space cramped, and each one dreamt he was falling off a tremendously high perch. Moreover, sound travelled more freely up above, and, in place of the brooding silence of the under-world, there were many strange noises up aloft, the most menacing being an occasional booming roar, which they recognized as the cry of the gorilla.
The morning was wet as usual, and heavy clouds trailed over the forest like a leaden mist on the sea. They crouched under the tent, listening to the drip, drip, drip, and filling their water-bottles from the tricklings. About ten the clouds lifted, and then the sun drove his arrows through until, almost in a twinkling, the great wet blanket rolled itself up and vanished swiftly into the horizon, leaving behind the sparkling of myriad raindrops on the leaves. Then for an hour the forest steamed, as the sun licked the drops off the roof and chased the moisture along the boughs. When the way was dried for them, they went on, going barefooted this time, for the better grip to be obtained.
Other creatures had waited for the drying of the leaves beside themselves, and whenever they passed the white-grey branches of a wild fig tree, they were treated to a scolding from green parrots on the feed, and heard frequently the clapping report of the wood- pigeons as they brought their wings together, and the harsh cry of the toucans. Oh yes, there was life and there was death.
Venning, going on ahead, saw below him in the fork of a tree the face of a monkey, with the eyes closed as if in sleep. He stopped to look, stooping his head, and his eyes caught a slight movement. Then he saw that the sleeping monkey was cradled in the coils of a python resting in the forks of the tree, its head raised a little, and its tail gripping a branch. The head of the monkey rested peacefully on one of the black and yellow coils, for death had come upon it swiftly.
"What do you look at?" asked Muata, bending forward.
"Shall I shoot?
"So," muttered the chief. "It is the silent hunter. Let him be; let him be, and pass on. No other looks at man as he looks. It is his kill; pass on."
They passed on, leaving the "silent hunter" with the monkey, that looked as if he slept, and silent and motionless he remained as each one paused to glance down, his dull, unwinking yellow eyes showing like coloured glass in the lifted head.
"Look well," said Muata, warningly; "where there is one, there will be another near. The silent ones hunt in couples."
"Would they attack men?"
"Ask the 'little' people."
"But they are no bigger than monkeys."
"There is the monkey bigger than man, and he, too, must give way to the silent hunter."
"What! Is the gorilla afraid of the python?"
"Between the ape and the serpent there is always war. See where you place your foot then, for you travel the monkey-path, and we go hand and foot like monkeys. Look well where you place your hand, for a straight branch may be the body of the silent hunter."
Venning went on with renewed caution, studying the branches above and below, for, lover as he was of all manner of live things, he had the common repugnance to the serpent-kind. But the trees were innocent of guile, and presently some other object claimed his absorbed attention, no less than an old man gorilla, who thrust his black head above a tree-top a little way off, and violently shook the branches. At the noise every one stopped and peered out.
"Look!" he shouted.
"By Jove, a gorilla!" cried Compton, from the rear.
The great head was thrust forward, with its low black forehead and blacker muzzle; then they saw the whites of the eyelids as the fierce creature swiftly raised and lowered its brows; then the gleam of the great tusks as the mouth opened to emit a tremendous roar. The branches cracked under its grip as it shook them again before disappearing. Mr. Hume unslung his rifle and planted himself firmly, for, from the sound, it seemed as if the great ape were coming straight for them. But the noise of its progress ceased, and, after a long wait, the march was resumed. They kept a very keen outlook, and at times stopped to listen, but apparently the gorilla had vanished. Yet many were the startled looks whenever the least sound broke on their ears, for the face of the great ape, suddenly thrust into view, was a terrifying object.
"Halloa!" said Venning, pulling up, "the path seems to end here. See, the branch is broken off; and there is no swing-bridge. Yet the track did go straight on, for you can see the old marks across there."
"Wow!" said Muata, as his dark eyes swiftly took in the details.
"If I climbed up that branch, I think I could get into the other tree, and you could then use the rope."
"What is it now?" asked Mr. Hume.
"They have cut the track," said the chief; "and it is as I thought, they have gone down from this tree to the ground, maybe to climb up further on."
"Why?"
"Maybe a man has fallen to the ground here—who can say; or the stinging ants have made a home. That tree beyond is taboo to the little people, and we also will go down here."
"What's the good?" said Venning, beginning to climb up.
"No, no," said Mr. Hume. "We must leave this to the chief;" and he turned to descend.
Venning, however, was standing well placed for a swing, and he let himself go, reaching out with his left hand for another hold, and gaining the other side easily. Compton, of course, followed, and the two stood examining the tree for sign of the path. The track certainly had gone through that tree, but there were no signs of recent passage, and moss had grown over the branches. They called down that they were going on, and, passing across several trees, found themselves once more cut off from the next tree, on which the well-beaten track once again ran on.
"Here's the place," they shouted, to guide the others; then looked about to see how they were to cross.
"We'll have to shin down," said Compton, "for there's no crossing here."
Venning sat down astride a branch with his back to the trunk.
"May as well rest awhile till they come up."
"That's a queer-looking branch underneath," said Compton, following suit, and dropping a piece of bark on a bough that had attracted his attention. "It's covered all over with little squares of velvet moss. See!"
"Suppose we lower our guns by the rope, then we can swarm down easily," replied Venning, who had seen too many branches to be interested; and passing the rope round the two rifles, he lowered them to the ground, letting the rope follow.
"I believe it's moving, or else I've got fever or something."
"What's moving?"
"That;" and Compton pointed down.
"By Jenkins!" muttered Venning; and the two knitted their brows as they peered down into the shadows, for the branch certainly was moving, and moving away as if it meant to part company with the trunk. Their glances ran along the branch outwards, and then their eyes suddenly dilated, and their bodies stiffened.
So they stood like images, their hands clasping a branch, their heads thrust forward, and their eyes staring. On the same level with their heads and about twelve feet off was the head of that moving "branch," square-nosed, wedge-shaped, with the line of the jaws running right round to the broad part under the eyes, and a black- forked tongue flickering through an opening beneath the nostrils, It was the fixed stare of the lidless eyes, and the rigid position of the grim head poised in mid air on a neck that began like the muscular wrist of an athlete, thickening to where it was anchored on a branch three feet away to the size of an athlete's leg. And while the head, with the three feet of neck remained rigid, the body was gliding out and up, finding an anchorage in the forks of the tree on a level with the head, in readiness for the attack.
With an effort they drew their eyes away from that cold glance that held them almost paralyzed and glanced down. Beyond, the light branches shook as the huge coils passed over them. Such coils! As they moved into the sunlight they saw the glitter of the scales and the ridges of the muscles, and the movement was like the movement of several serpents instead of one.
Venning looked again at the motionless head. "When it has gathered its length behind and above its head," he said slowly, "it will strike."
"And you dropped the guns!"
"No one can stare a snake out—no one," said Venning; and his eyes were fixed.
"How far can it strike?"
"It has no lids to its eyes. It just looks and looks. Compton!"
Compton took Venning by the arm and shook him. "Come on," he cried.
"What are we standing here for?"
But as he spoke his eyes went up involuntarily, and his pupils expanded.
"It's coming closer," he whispered.
"And its eyes are brighter." Venning shut his eyes, and gripped his companion.
They swayed, and just managed to save themselves from a headlong fall by grasping a branch. The shock restored them, and the next minute they had swung themselves up on to the branch, and from that to the next. It was done in an instant, but when they cast a breathless look down, they saw the unwinking eyes looking up at them from the very spot they had just left. The snake had a double coil round the branch that had supported them, while the huge body bridged the distance to the branches from which the blow had been delivered just a moment too late. As they looked, the hinder part of the body fell with a thud against the tree-trunk, and began to ripple up.
"Back," said Compton, "to the next tree."
They darted to the vine-bridge, swung over, then stopped to see if the snake would follow.
"The monkey-rope would never bear its weight," said Venning.
"Can you hear it? By Jove, I feel all of a jump. I felt as if I had to stand there and watch it come right up."
"Ugh!" said Compton. "It was awful. Get ready to run. I see it—over there—just opposite; it's going up—no, down. I say, it will chase us from underneath. Come on!"
Venning went a little lower, the better to see the ground.
"Hi! underneath, Mr. Hume! Muata! Hi! Coo-ee!"
"Halloa! What is it?"
"A snake! He's going down the next tree to this. Look out!"
"All right; but you will find it safer down here."
They were of that same opinion, and were down with a run, that took some of the bark off their shins, as well as off the trees.
"And where are your guns?"
"Dropped them," said Compton.
"I see. Dropped them first, and discovered your danger after."
"Rub it in, sir. We ought to have followed you; and we have had a fine fright. It's big enough to scare any one."
All the time, they had their eyes turned up on the watch for the slightest movement, but the tree was as quiet as if it had not harboured anything more dangerous than a caterpillar.
"Where's Muata and the other boy, sir?"
"Gone after a red bush-pig. I think I hear them breaking back."
They heard the hunting cry of the jackal, then a sound of crashing, and an animal, brick-red—a strange hue for the sombre shadows of the forest—darted into view, and seeing them, halted with snout lowered, and the bristling neck curving up grandly to the high shoulders. A moment it stood there facing them, defiant, its little eyes gleaming, its tusks showing white, and the foam dripping from its jaws. A moment, and then it sank to the ground, and was hidden under a writhing mound of coils. Swift as an arrow the python had swooped at the prey, fastened on the neck with its jaws, and then overwhelmed it by the avalanche of its enormous length. There followed a sickening crunch of bones, and next a wild cry from the jackal, repeated by Muata and the river-man.
Mr. Hume advanced with his Express ready, but Muata, running round, begged him not to fire.
"It is the father of the wood-spirits. He took the red pig instead of one of us."
"Not for the want of trying," said Venning. "He nearly had us both,
Muata."
"But he took the pig," said Muata. "It is his hunt, and it means well for us that he took the pig."
"It certainly does; but how are we to get our guns, if we don't shoot him?"
Muata placed his weapon on the ground and advanced. The python had completed its work so far. Two vast coils were round the crushed body of the boar; the head rested on the upmost coil, with the eyes fixed on the intruders, and the rest of the body reached away into the shadows.
Muata advanced with the palms of his hands open, and his eyes downcast, as if he were in the presence of some great chief. Yet he showed no fear, never faltered, but walked up to the guns, picked them up within a foot of the spot where the length of the serpent had formed a loop, and returned. The lidless eyes watched, but not a coil moved.
"It is well," said Muata, gravely, as he returned the rifles. "He means well by us."
"You would not have said that if you had been up the tree with us, and with him," grumbled Compton.
"The tree is taboo. I said it."
"Do you mean that he lives here? I should think he would starve."
"That would be your word, young great one. But, see, look at my father there. He is big, very big, very heavy, very old. He does not care to move far. Yet he is wise. So he has chosen his hunt; and he has chosen well."
"I cannot see it. The little people give him a wide berth, and a pig might come along once a year."
"Such is your wisdom, little great one. But, see, in the trees above there is a roadway, and on the ground below there are other paths for the things of the forest who neither fly nor climb. These trees lie in the way of such a road. On the ground, if you had looked you would have seen the spoor of the red pig and other things of the forest."
"By Jove, yes!" and the boys stared at the unfamiliar spoor of animals. "But why do they use this particular part of the forest?"
"That we shall see, for our way lies now along this ground-path. The little people have done their tracking. The man-eaters are near."