CHAPTER XVII
THE PLACE OF REST
The chiefs wife urged them on. Neither night nor day did she seem to rest, for whenever one of the boys, in a feverish sleep, tossed his arms about, she was at his side with a drink compounded of herbs, that kept the fever away. She took her spell at the levers, her long round arms moving with unexpected power, and only the hunter himself could tire her out. As for him, he was not happy unless he was working, and at times he made the screw spin again under his fierce strokes, whenever his eyes fell on the wan faces of his young companions stewing in the insufferable heat. He shortened the journey by twenty-four hours, for on the afternoon of the fourth day the woman, for the first time, showed signs of joy.
"Lift up your heads, O young lions," she cried; "let the light come into your eyes, and the strength into your limbs, for we are at the gates! You will catch the cool wind in your mouths. Your nostrils will sniff the air of the hills; your feet will tread the open way; your eyes will see the white clouds afar. Awake, my children, we are at the gates."
They lifted their heads, throbbing with the touch of fever, and before them they saw a sheet of clear water; beyond that a glistening wall of rock, and following up higher and higher, they saw the deep blue of the sky.
"We are out at last," said the hunter, in his deep tones. "Off with the awning, Muata; let us breathe again."
The awning was thrown back, and the boys sat up, drawing in the air in great gulps.
"This is but the beginning," said the woman. "A little further and your eyes will rest on the gardens below and the hilltops above. You will skip like the he-goat from rock to rock. You will shout and rejoice. I know. I was young, too, and I also came through the dark way."
"Where now, Muata?" asked the hunter.
"If the great one cares to leave the canoe, we could reach the top to-night, and sleep far above the woods. None come here. The water is 'taboo,' and the boat would be safe."
"Let us go up," urged Compton.
"Yes; up out of this stagnation," cried Venning, with a longing look up.
Mr. Hume ran the boat in, and Muata leapt ashore. As his feet felt the firm ground he raised one hand high and broke into a chant, the woman joining in at intervals. As he chanted he stamped his feet on the sand; and this song was of himself—of his deeds in the past, of his triumphs in the future.
"Wow!" he said, when he had finished. "There were many days that Muata thought never to look upon these walls again; many times, when his heart was dark, when his blood was like water; and lo! he stands against the walls of his home."
"Of his resting-place," corrected the woman. "His home lies beneath the setting sun."
"I know how you feel, Muata. If I were to see again the cliffs of old England, I would sing too."
"It must be like finding a new beetle," said Venning.
"We are not out of the woods yet," chimed in Mr. Hume, grimly, "so just give your attention to our stores. We must carry up as much as we can, for, 'taboo' or not 'taboo,' I do not like the idea of leaving all our things here."
They made up in parcels as much of the stores as they could carry, and the woman strode off first, erect and graceful, with the largest parcel on her head. Venning followed, carrying only his carbine, blanket, and bandolier; then Muata, with sixty pounds' weight on his head, then Compton, and, last of all, Mr. Hume, with an ample load. A fairly open path, over a lattice-work of roots, mounted up through the trees, and the hunter "blazed" the path by chipping a slice of bark off every fifth tree. Up and up the woman swung with free strides, her short leather skirts, trimmed with beads, rattling as she went; and after many a breather, for the sake of the whites, she strode out, one thousand feet above the lake, on to a rock-strewn slope, free of trees. A glance back showed the evening mist rolling like a huge curtain over the sombre forest, so that they seemed to be looking down upon a silent sea.
"A little more, my children—a little more, and you will sleep under a roof."
She swung off, balancing the load easily, and the others followed in and out among great rocks that had an unfamiliar look, bending their bodies to the steep and labouring for breath; and as they went Mr. Hume drew marks on the ground, as a guide, with the point of his knife, for he trusted no man in the wilderness, except himself. After another thousand feet of climbing, they entered into a gorge, that narrowed at the summit to a mere cleft, and from that cleft they stepped out on to a broad platform, which dominated a wide valley rimmed with cliffs.
"Behold the Place of Rest, O white men; and ye, O great one, who marked the trees below, and whose glance went ever back to note the way so that you should know it again, know that we have led you to the hiding, whose secret was our refuge."
"Ay, mother," said Mr. Hume, quietly, though surprised she had seen his actions; "and remember that we are here to help you keep out the wolf from your refuge. I marked the trail, as ye saw, for it is well that a man should know his way out as well as in."
"He is right, O wise one," said Muata, bearing down his mother's suspicious look. "Should Hassan prevail in the fight, there would be no Muata to guide these our friends to safety."
"He prevail!" cried the woman, sternly; then her finger shot out, and her form seemed to increase in stature. "Look, O warrior of feeble words; see how it greets the chief;" and her eyes blazed as she followed the flight of a great bird that swept out of the mist. "A sign—a sign, my son."
"A black eagle," said Venning. "Maybe it has its nest somewhere about here."
"As this is the Place of Rest," said Mr. Hume, "it would do us all good to sit down. Where is the hut you spoke of, mother?"
"Shall I carry you, little one?" said the woman, with a loud laugh.
"A few steps only. A little way, and you can eat and sleep."
She passed to the right under shelter of a cliff, and came very quickly to the door of a wide cave, that ran back some thirty feet.
"Here is your home, and in the morning the sun will look in at the door, and from the threshold, when you awake, you may sit and feast on such a sight as will gladden your eyes, for now the shadows hide it."
They threw their packages on the floor and sat down on a carpet of clean white sand.
"A little further there is water. Muata, my son, for the last time do woman's work and light the fire, while I go below for food."
"Say nothing to the people of my coming," said the chief. "Presently
I will go down secretly, and see how the men bear themselves."
"Wow! I see now it is the chief, and not a carrier of wood."
She went off into the gathering gloom, but was back in the hour with a great bunch of yellow bananas, a calabash of goats'-milk, and a young kid, showing no signs of weariness for all her toil. Those bananas, growing with an upward curve against the stem to relieve the dead weight on the branch as they grew, were just then a finer sight than the most magnificent scenery, and the travellers made a great feast, which done, they stretched themselves out on the clean dry sand up there in the clean, crisp air, and slept till the sun next morning streamed into the open cave.
They woke up to find themselves alone, but not forgotten; for outside there lay a little heap of good things, including fresh eggs, a calabash of milk, sweet potatoes, and a bundle of firewood.
"By Jove!" cried Compton; "look at the view. Isn't it splendid?"
"Well, it won't vanish," said Mr. Hume, "so we'll have breakfast first."
Further on along the ledge there was a little cascade, falling into a bath-like opening evidently, from the signs, of human construction, and here, in ice-cold water, they refreshed themselves. After breakfast they were like new men. The keen air put to flight the beginnings of malaria contracted in the noisome atmosphere of the dark water-course they had last travelled, and brought the sparkle into their eyes, and a smile to the lips.
"Now for the view—for a good long look at the Garden of Rest."
"Not yet. We'll first overhaul our rifles and stock of ammunition. This is no picnic, you know. We may be fighting for our lives to- morrow; so to work!"
Orders had to be obeyed, and the ammunition was sorted out— providing 150 rounds for the Express, 250 rounds each for the three carbines, and 175 rounds for the shot-gun.
"That is a short supply, boys. We must be careful not to throw away a single shot; for, remember, we've got to go a long way before we reach safety, even after this business of Hassan's is done. We must try and do with fifty rounds apiece in this little affair."
"Little affair!" muttered Venning, remembering the flotilla of canoes and the mob of fierce-looking cannibals.
"Big or little, we can't afford to indulge in reckless firing. One bullet, one man, is my motto."
"But we cannot all shoot like you," grumbled Venning.
"A matter of habit," said the hunter, quietly. "All you have to do is to get the advantage of position, and then it is no merit to shoot straight. Drop three men out of a hundred, and you will stop the remainder; drop thirty out of a thousand, and the same thing happens. If there are only a hundred, and you have the upper ground, let them come within two hundred yards; if the enemy is in great numbers, open at five hundred yards; and anywhere down to fifty yards according to his dwindling strength. Shoot straight every time, and the plan answers like clockwork."
"Have you tried it?"
"Many times, but only in self-defence. Now we'll just examine our position, for it is always good to have open a line of retreat."
They walked along the ledge to the mouth of the gorge up which they had ascended, saw that the ledge ended there, then retraced their steps past the cave and the bath to a spot where a break in the ledge opened up a way down into the valley.
"Just take note of that path," said the hunter, "and follow it down."
"What a beautiful spot!" said Compton.
"It does the eyes good to look on it," said Venning, enthusiastically. "See how the sun shines on the broad leaves— banana-leaves, I think—bordering the silver stream."
"Never mind the silver stream," broke in Mr. Hume, testily. "Fix your attention on this path. Get it into your mind. See how it drops down to that solitary palm."
"Now remember that if you are down there, and have to run, you are to make for that palm, ascend here, and cut along to the gorge. Have you got that fixed? Good. Now we will go back."
At last, with their feet dangling over the edge of the ledge before the cave, they were at liberty to satisfy their longing to take their fill of the beauty outspread before them. Perhaps it was by contrast with the monotony of the forest that the scene below them seemed to them all to be the most beautiful that had ever gladdened the eyes of men. Imagine a valley about five miles in length, narrowing at each end, and opening out about the centre to a width of two miles, the sides of grass sloping up to a buttress of rock, and rippling along the whole length into folds, with little valleys in between—narrow at the summit, where they joined the rock-wall, and wide at the base, where they opened out on the parent valley, through which flowed a broad stream, fringed its whole length with a border of pale green banana-leaves with stems of gold. In the little valleys were gardens, showing up like a chessboard pattern in neat patches of green, red, and brown, according to whether there was ripening millet, young maize, or new-turned mould. Halfway down the valley was a village of beehive-shaped huts, with an open space in the centre, adorned with one fine tree, under whose spreading branches they could see distinctly the forms of men. In the strong white light every object could be easily picked out—goats browsing among the rocks at the base of the cliffs; flocks of birds circling above the gardens; fowls walking among the huts; tiny little black forms toddling in the sun, and their mothers squatting with their faces turned to the council tree.
"No women in the gardens," said Mr. Hume, "and that always means war."
Venning readjusted his glasses. "There is something I can't quite make out at the back of the village. Looks like men lying down."
Mr. Hume took the glasses and turned them on the spot. "Humph!" he muttered, while his brow clouded. "They are dead men."
"Five," said Compton.
"Yes, five. Muata has been at work!"
"Muata? He was sitting here quietly eating last night."
"Maybe it was either he or they, and he happened to be first to strike."
"It is awful!" muttered Venning.
The discovery destroyed their pleasure in the gentle beauty of the scene below, and they fell to discussing Hassan's probable plan of attack, arriving at the conclusion that the chances of success were with him, when they contrasted his force with the small band of men down below.
"While they are talking," said Compton, "Hassan will be seizing the best positions. Why on earth don't they do something?"
"Perhaps they are at work already," said Mr. Hume. "There is a small party coming down the valley from the left. Muata said something about Hassan's determination to drown the people of the valley. He could only flood the valley by damming the stream at its outlet, which would lie to the left, and I guess those men have been seeing to the defence."
"The leading man has plumes in his head. A chief, I suppose."
"It is the chief himself, Dick."
"So it is. I can make out his Ghoorka knife. Let's give him a shout;" and the two sent a loud "coo-ee" ringing down the slope. The sound reached the ears of the little band of warriors, for they stood to look up; it also reached the people in the village with a startling effect. The men jumped up from the ground, women snatched up children and scuttled hither and thither like ants disturbed. From the depths below a cry came up clear and crisp—the marvellous voice of the native, trained through long centuries to speed a message of war or peace, of victory or disaster, from hill to hill.
"Ohe! Ohe! my brothers, the chief awaits you."
"Does he?" said Mr. Hume, dryly. "Then he may wait until he sends up a proper escort. Oh, here they come, I suppose," as half of Muata's body-guard detached themselves and advanced towards the palm-tree.
"Shall we go down?" said Compton, rising.
"Sit still, my lad. No chief ever hurries; and, you understand, we are all chiefs."
"Are we, though?"
"We take rank with Muata, if he is the head chief; not out of pride, you understand, but out of policy. So just keep cool. Just look as if you were a sixth-form boy approached by a deputation from the kids. See?"
"I'll be as cool and haughty as a——"
"Freshman in a bun-shop," interposed Venning. "Me, too;" and he put on a high and mighty look.
"Don't overdo it, my boy," said Mr. Hume, with a grave smile.
There were seven men coming up, and they breasted the slope in single file at a walk which quickly got over the ground. On reaching the ledge they advanced at a trot up to within a few feet, when they suddenly halted, grounded their spears with a clang, and raised the right hand with the fingers spread. They were fine lads, straight of limb, supple and lithe, without, however, much show of muscle. Their quick glances, with a certain quality of wildness in the eyes, ranged over the three seated and silent whites.
"Greeting, O white men from out the forest, and the water beyond, and the father of waters beyond that." The spokesman stepped forward. "Greeting from the great black one, the river-wolf—he who met the wild man of the woods alone; he who crept in at the gate and slew the man-hunters; he the chief Muata. Greeting to the lion- killer, the cleaver of heads, the maker of plans, who came out of the mist in a shining boat. Greeting to the young lions who slew the tree-lion."
"What is your word?"
"The great chief awaits at the war council."
"Go down and tell your chief we will descend when we have made war medicine."
"Wow!" The spokesman fell back into the ranks. The seven warriors stood for a time in silence; then, at a word from the spokesman, they went through a salute, turned, and marched back in single file, chanting a war song as they went, as an accompaniment to a dancing stride.
"What is the war medicine we are to make, sir?"
"Just the remains of our breakfast and supper, with a dose of quinine to finish up."
"And those chaps will be telling the people down below that we are making strong medicine, warranted to kill Hassan at sight, and ward off spears, bullets, mosquitoes, and Arab swords."
"Well, it will give them courage, if they think all that," said Mr.
Hume, coolly, as he inspected the rations.