In Search of the Okapi / A Story of Adventure in Central Africa

by Ernest Glanville

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIGHT IN THE DEFILE

In the afternoon, having hidden away the reserve ammunition, they at last went down to the war council assembled under the tree in the village. Mindful of the instructions of Mr. Hume, the two boys were quite self-possessed and incurious, though it was a great effort to restrain expressions of surprise when they were face to face with Muata.

If they were under the necessity to play a part, so in a greater measure was he. The men about him were a mixed lot—of adventurers who had been compelled to seek a harbourage from revengeful enemies, of fugitives who had escaped from the slave gangs—and they were of several tribes. Only a strong hand could keep them in order, and Muata could not afford for a moment to sacrifice his authority. He was master in that valley, or nothing. Hence he received the greeting of his old white friends without a sign of cordiality.

His naturally fine face was hideous in war-paint, two lines of yellow extending to his ears from the comers of his mouth, and another black line running from the centre of the forehead down between the eyes. Two long black feathers were secured in his head circlet, and about his throat he wore a necklace made of the teeth of the gorilla and the claws of a lion. His eyes were fierce and bright, and the quivering of his nostrils showed also that he was labouring under suppressed excitement. Mr. Hume recognized at once that he was face to face with a crisis, and instinctively he realized that it depended on him to save the situation, not only for himself and his young companions, but for Muata also. His calm eyes travelled over the ring of black faces behind the chief. He saw there were two parties. On one side were the young warriors, men of the chiefs age, who probably had been brought up in the valley; on the other was a larger number of older men, whose lowering looks told a tale of distrust and incipient revolt.

"Behold," he said, making up his mind to the role he would play, "we are the chief's 'white men.' We have made strong medicine. Shall I speak, O black bull of the forest?"

"Speak," said Muata, who had caught the hunter's eye when he acknowledged himself to be the chief's white man.

"Thus says the medicine," said the hunter, in his deep tones. "There are wolves on the way to eat up the people of this place."

"Eh—hum!" sneered the older men. "We know."

"We are ready for them," shouted the young warriors.

"Ye know—yes; but thus says my medicine—that you are not agreed among yourselves."

"Er—hum!"

The hunter paused, and his strange eyes dwelt on the faces of the old men so that they looked away.

"There are some among you who would make terms with the enemy. There were some who had sent secret word to Hassan. Go ye a little way up the slope and ye will see the bodies of some of those slain in their treachery!"

"Wow!" The older men exchanged uneasy glances, and a woman's voice rang out exultingly, "Ye speak the truth, O lion."

"Thus says my medicine. If ye do not stand together, the enemy will enter at the gates, and not one will be left alive, for Hassan will slay those whose hearts were with him as he will those who were against him."

One of the older warriors interrupted, shooting a finger at Muata.

"Great one, give us the word that we may slay this dog who comes to make trouble. Is this the counsel of a wise man on the coming of the enemy?"

"What would you do with him?" asked Muata, suavely.

"Send him after those others;" and the man pointed up the hill.

"You stand alone in your words," said the chief, doubtfully.

The spokesman, with a look of fierce triumph, looked around.

"These also I speak for."

"Haw!" said the chief, slowly, running his eye over the old men.
"All men of wisdom! Do ye all hold with these words? Be not hasty.
Ye have heard the words of the white man. Think well before ye
speak."

"How do we know that he is not Hassan's man?" said the first spokesman, fiercely. "He was summoned to the council when the sun was young, and he has only now come. Who vouches for him?"

"I—Muata, the chief. Yet Muata does not give face to him or to you. Ye have heard both sides. Think well and decide quickly, for the day is passing, and we must be at the gates this night. First let me know"—and the chief's voice was very mild—"do we agree in resisting Hassan, or is it that we differ about the white men?"

"We will fight against Hassan," said the spokesman, quickly; "but this white man has spoken evil words. We know him not; and if thus early he begins to make mischief, what will happen when the fight is fierce? Stand by me, friends, so that the chief may see our mind."

"Nay," said an older man, who had been watching the chiefs face— "nay, let us talk the matter over."

But it was too late, and the spokesman stepped aside, drawing with him a score of men.

"Is that all?" asked the chief, quietly, and his eyes ran keenly over the faces of the other warriors. "I will consider, for it is well that we should have no differences."

"Hark to the wisdom!" shouted the warriors.

"We must stand together," continued Muata, "or we fall. And I am glad of this thing; it has shown our weakness." He stood a moment, then, with a sudden glance back at his young men, he bounded forward, and with one stroke of his terrible knife struck the leader of the band to the ground. "Hold!" he roared, as the young men, with a terrific shout, sprang forward. "Let a man move but a hand, and he is dead."

There was one breathless moment, during which men stood with upraised spears, their eyes glaring, their breasts heaving, and their breath coming in quick gasps. A woman laughed and the tension slackened.

"Back—back!" and before the fierce word of command the young warriors drew off.

"One is enough," growled Muata, transformed, terrible in his fury, and glaring at the small band who stood around the fallen body. "If I thought that ye were in the counsels of this dog who lies there, not one of ye would be spared. It was in his heart to betray us to Hassan."

"We knew it not, great black one," muttered the men, humbly.

"If I thought ye knew," growled the chief, with a terrible look, "there would be an end to you. See that ye carry yourselves well."

The three travellers had stood fast during this scene, and now
Muata, having wiped the blood from his knife, turned to them.

"It is the law," he said, as if in explanation. "Haw! when I descended into the valley, in the night, I heard evil words spoken round the fire. It was time to act, and as it was seen by your medicine, the law was done."

"Ohe! the law was done," chanted the young warriors. "In the dark he came—the great strong one—silently out of the woods, and in the morning he smote."

"It is the law. If any of you feel a thorn in the foot, you cut it out. Good; we are now whole."

"We are whole, O chief," cried all the warriors together. "Good; then we will go up to the gateways to be ready. In three companies we will go, and with each will so one of the chief's white men. Ye have seen how strong is the white man's medicine. If any hold back, the medicine will tell."

The chief divided the men into three equal numbers of about fifty each, which left over some twenty-five of the older men who had sided with the slain man.

"Ye," he said, addressing them, "will stay here with the women; and if it chance that the enemy prevail, take the women and the flocks to the foot of the rocks above, where the white men were. O Inkosikase! (chieftainess)."

Muata's mother came forward, armed with spear, and behind her came other women carrying bows and arrows.

"These men, O mother, will stay by the kraal. They have learnt wisdom; but if they weaken, send a messenger to me."

"There will be no messenger needed, O son," said the woman, as she eyed the cowed men. "So go forth to the battle, for your scouts upon the heights call. They see the man-eaters and the women stealers." Her long arm shot out, and every man stared to the far end of the valley.

Muata gave a few sharp orders, and the first band of fifty young men went off up the valley at a trot.

"O great one, you said the word that helped betwixt me and my men. I go forward with the next band—do you follow with the others; so that when Hassan presses us back, as he must, being the stronger, you will let a part of his men pass through the gate; then stop the rest, and we who ran will deal with those who got through."

"Is that your plan?"

"It is a good plan. When the leopard is caged his cunning goes. Your men will know where to hide; I have overlooked the place."

"Good. The plan will be carried out."

"There is also a second plan;" and Muata fixed his eyes on Compton. "Some men will be hidden within the valley, to fall upon those who enter. I wish the young lion to remain with them."

"I should like that," said Compton, quietly.

"Very well, my lad," said Mr. Hume; "and I think Venning had better go with you. I prefer it. And hark! if the plan fails, you know the way to the boat. Shake hands."

They shook hands, and the two lads placed themselves beside Muata as he went off with the second band. Mr. Hume, with the last company, followed at a slower gait, along a path that skirted the river with its fringe of banana trees, whose broad leaves shone in the sun. After a couple of miles, the river entered the defile through which long since it had cut its way out of the valley. It was at the entrance to the defile that an ambush was formed by Muata of fifteen men, with Compton and Venning. The warriors were already in position behind fallen rocks, the two lads being higher up the slope. They showed themselves as Mr. Hume came up, and waved their hats to him.

"Good luck!" they shouted, with a lump in their throats, for they loved the "great one," and they feared the task allotted to him was full of danger.

"Take cover," he said cheerily; "take good aim; and remember the palm tree, if things go wrong."

"And remember," they cried, "that we want you back safe and sound."

"I'll take precious care of myself," he said with a smile, and followed his men into the dark defile.

"I wish we were going with him," said Venning.

"The next best thing is to do our part as well as we can."

They stretched themselves out each behind a rock and waited.

"There is one thing," muttered Venning, after fidgeting about; "we cannot wait long, for it will be dark within an hour."

"The sooner they come the better."

They watched the shadows creeping across the valley—already over the river and halfway up the opposite slope; they watched the light on the cliffs above; but, most of all, they watched the young warriors crouching below them.

"They hear something," said Venning; and his finger curled round the trigger.

"Keep cool, old chap. Remember, we don't fire until after these men have given the sign. They are coming!"

Sure enough, they were coming. The crouching warriors were quivering with excitement, as their gleaming eyes sought the mouth of the defile, out of which came a confused murmur. From a murmur to a hoarse rumble, then swiftly to the sound of fierce cries, the noise grew, and then a man leapt into view, and after him a score, all running as if for life. The plan was working, but was it not working too thoroughly? Would those men in whom was the panic of flight be able to stand? Muata came last, the long feathers streaming from his head; and as he ran, he shouted at his flying men words of insult. He cleared the defile, and at his heels there grew a fierce and growing clamour. Then, like a pack of wolves on the heels of a deer, the wild men of the woods burst into view. Close together they ran, and when they saw the valley stretching green and peaceful before them, they halted to drink in the sight. They feasted their eyes on the gardens, on the little flocks of goats, on the huts, on the women and children streaming up the slope on the right. Then they shouted in their joy of the promise of blood, of loot, of feasting— shouted and bounded forward. As they were in their stride once more, a wild yell rang out of the defile—a yell of fear and warning, that reached them, and that brought them up with a jerk. They faced round impatiently towards the defile again, and, behold, the mouth was held by a party of the enemy! But only a small party, less than half their number. With a yell they charged, and then they halted, and then they broke, and in a twinkling they had lost their cunning and were themselves the fugitives; for at the first step two of their leading men had fallen, and into the thick of them, from a distance of a hundred yards, came an accurate and unexpected rifle-fire. A trap! They shouted to each other, then broke streaming across the river in a frantic search for hiding. In vain they fled, for the valley seemed alive with men, Muata's band having scattered purposely; while keen-eyed boys, standing in tree-tops, marked down the fugitives, and shouted directions to the hunters. Even the women, led by the chief's mother, came down to join in the pursuit.

This work was not to the taste of the two white boys. They had played their part, and now they entered the defile to seek their companion.

Compton went ahead into the shadows, following the river, and thinking of nothing but the fight that they knew from the sounds was raging somewhere before them. As he turned a corner made by a projection in the wall, a dark hand seized him by the neck, and he was on his back, with a roaring sound in his ears, and a feeling of suffocation.

"What's the matter?" he gasped presently, when the grip on his throat relaxed.

"Can you stand?"

"Yes, of course." Compton got up. "You look queer."

"Feel queer," said Venning. "Enough to make a chap queer to see you go down like that with a big black on top of you."

"Where is he?" and Compton hunted for his rifle.

"Shot him; but, for all I knew, I might have shot you. He fell in the river. Perhaps there are more of them hiding."

"You shot him?"

"Yes—go along; but for goodness' sake don't let another one jump on you."

Compton gripped his friend's hand, then went on, very cautiously this time, for a little way, until he heard the crack of the Express, followed by the Hunter's bull voice calling on the men to "stand fast." He dashed on.

"We are coming," yelled Venning, in a voice that sounded very youthful; but keen ears heard the high treble, and to them it brought comfort.

"The chiefs white men," was the cry that rose, that reached Mr. Hume as he fought coolly, warily, in a crisis of the battle, knowing that, if he gave back an inch, the men behind him would bolt, and Hassan's horde would swarm into the valley.

"Hurrah, my brave lads!" he roared. "You there behind, meet the white men and lead them up to the place where I first stood."

"Yebo Inkose! (yes, chief)" cried a Zulu of the Angoni.

Thus the chief's "white men" were met in the gorge by a dark figure panting heavily, who led them through other dark forms, some lying groaning, others silent—led them up to a ledge that overlooked the enemy.

"What now?" asked Compton, looking at the Zulu, and in the better light noticing the wounds on his head and left arm.

The Zulu pointed down. "Fire, O white men, between that tree and the rock. There they are thickest."

The two rifles flashed out simultaneously.

"Hurrah!" roared the Hunter from below. "Give them the whole magazine."

"Empty the magazines," said Venning between his teeth; and the Lee- Metfords poured out a little rain of thin bullets into a space between the tree and the rock.

"Yavuma!" cried the Zulu.

"Yavuma!" roared the Hunter. "Stand firm, my children!"

The Zulu knelt on the brink of the ledge and peered down into the gloom, out of which came the shouts of the enemy, thrown into confusion, when apparently all was going well with the attack. An arrow struck on the rock, then another.

"The tree," he said, pointing into a great tree-top. "Let one chief fire into the tree and the other at the white spot."

"I see the white spot," said Compton; and again he emptied his magazine, while Venning riddled the tree-top, out of which at the discharge men dropped in haste.

"Cease firing," came the command from below. "Now, my children, forward once more. They run."

"They run!" shouted Muata's men, as they swept out from the defile after Mr. Hume.

"At the white spot," said the Zulu, gripping Compton by the arm. "Fire; ye will not hurt our men. There are men with guns where the white is; and, see, others join them. Quick! Shoot, white men, or they slay our friends."

A flame spurted out from the gloom down where the white specks gathered, and the Lee-Metfords were not idle. The little bullets rang into the place where those white-robed Arabs were waiting with their rifles, and before they could play their part, the beaten van of their assaulting party broke upon them in their flight. The battle was over! Muata, returning from the killing of the men he had decoyed into the valley, raised the shout of victory, and the two boys went down into the gorge to join in the throng of exultant and excited warriors.

"Way for the chief's white men!" cried the Angoni Zulu, staggering from his hurts.

"Bayate! to the white men," shouted the warriors, rattling their spears.

"We are no chiefs men," said Compton, proudly.

"Ohe!" said Muata, overhearing the words. "Lion's cub, I hear. Ye shall have the chief's feather; and the great one, where is he?"

Out of the darkness beyond came the chant of deep voices—the song of the men who had held the gate, "The great one," "Lion-throated," "He whose roar filled the valley," and so on, until they recognized the form of their chief, when very wisely they directed their praise to his deeds.

Mr. Hume, bare-armed, reeking of battle, hoarse from shouting, stepped up and gripped hands with the boys.

"We go to our house on the hill, chief," he said.

"There will be feasting to-night, my brothers, and your places will be beside the chief," said Muata.

"'Sot for us. Feast well; but watch well also, for Hassan has not had his fill. Come, lads."

They left Muata giving directions for guarding the gate, and went back through the gorge into the valley, and down towards the village, where they were met by a band of women carrying torches and singing. The women formed a ring about them, and in this the chiefs mother danced, stamping her feet, and clapping her hands, while she sang of the battle.

"We go up to the cave," said Mr. Hume, when the dance was over.
"Send us food, mother."

"In plenty, O shield of my son!"

"And hark to this, wise woman—see that the warriors drink sparingly, for the wolf is most dangerous when he comes to the kraal a second time secretly."

"Wow! That is my thought also; but men are foolish. If the horn is filled, they would empty it without thought of the morrow. Ohe! you will eat well;" and she issued orders to some women, who returned to the village, and other orders to a couple of boys, who were only too glad to lead the popular white men up to the cave, to light the fires and bring water. And almost as soon as they were at the cave the women arrived with meat, fruit, and milk.

The Hunter stretched himself at once on the blankets. "I am not so young as I was," he explained.

"That won't do," said Venning, lighting the lamp. "You must not go to sleep without having had your supper." He turned the light on. "Why, you're wounded!"

"I dare say, lad. It was pretty hot down there at one time."

"Oh, you know this is not fair to us! I say, Dick, come here."

"What is it?" asked Compton, coming in from attending the fire.

"Mr. Hume has got himself wounded, and he never told us."

"Don't bother about me, lads; I'll be all right in the morning."

But they did bother about him—washed the blood from his face, cleansed and treated a jagged wound on the skull and fomented a swelling on the right wrist, and then insisted on his taking food.

"Now, you go to sleep," said Venning; "and in the morning, perhaps, you'll tell us all about it."

They were very silent, until the Hunter fell into a deep sleep, when they tiptoed out to the fire, and sat long into the night listening to the noisy shouts of rejoicing that floated up from the village below, where the fires gleamed brightly, too anxious themselves to even discuss Mr. Hume's injuries. In the morning, however, when they opened their drowsy eyes, they were gladdened by the sight of the Hunter returning from the bath, with the drops still glistening on his tawny beard.

"Now tell us," they said, when the breakfast was prepared, "all about the fight."

"It is soon told. I let the enemy pass in pursuit of Muata, as arranged, but when it came to our part in the plan—that of closing the defile—we found the job tougher than we anticipated. Those cannibals are hard fighters. They fell back as we unmasked our ambush; but they rallied quickly, and delivered one assault upon another. I tell you, we were at our last gasp when your arrival decided the matter."

"You must have come to close quarters?"

Mr. Hume nodded his head. "I received the blow on the wrist guarding my head from a club, and the cut on the head from a spear."

"And you used your knife?"

"I dare say I did my share," said the Hunter, who had held the defile alone at one time, his staunchest supporter, the Angoni Zulu, having fallen back exhausted.

For a trying spell his undaunted spirit had stood between the valley and destruction, and the wild men went back to Hassan with a tale of a terrible white man who had struck down their bravest with a great blade.

"That Ghoorka knife," he said, "is a great weapon;" and with that summing-up of the struggle in the gloom of the defile he lit his pipe, and sat down to gaze upon the valley, so peaceful in appearance, so charged with the everlasting tragedy of life. "If those people were whites, or Arabs, they would now be following up the enemy to crush him while he is disorganized. But being blacks, they don't look further ahead than their noses, which were made short for the purpose."

"Let us go down and offer to lead an expedition in pursuit," said
Compton.

"I guess not, Dick. They'd leave us to do all the fighting ourselves; and there's no sense in that. What we have to think about is how to get away."

"Surely there is no difficulty about that. We will go when it suits us."

"I'm not so sure," said Mr. Hume, gravely.

"But Muata is our friend."

"Muata cannot do what he likes, and, if he could, you've got to remember this—that Muata in the Okapi, dependent on us, is another person to Muata the chief in his own kraal."

"I don't think he would be treacherous," said Venning.

"He need not go so far as that to upset our plans. Maybe he would find it convenient to keep us here as his 'white men' until it suits him to let us go. You see, he has got to think of himself as chief and of his people first."

"I don't think he would treat us unfairly," said Compton, warmly, "especially as they owe so much to us."

"That's nothing."

"But, sir, these people were kind to my father; and Muata stood by us all along like a brick."

"Well," said Mr. Hume, lighting his pipe, "I always find it pays to keep your powder dry and your eyes skinned. So whether Muata continues friendly or not, be always on your guard."

Muata was friendly. He paid them a visit, and he proclaimed them chiefs with full right to offer council at the Indabas under the title of "The Old Lion," "The Young Lion," and "The Spider," the last distinction falling to Venning, because of his fondness for the pursuit of insects. Muata then dismissed his body-guard and joined his newly appointed chiefs at the fire. He sat a long time silent, his eyes bloodshot, his brows bent, and when he did speak, his words veiled a hidden meaning.

"The place is yours," he said, "to go and to come, to eat and to drink, to take and keep. Choose any place, and the people will build huts for you."

"This cave is dry and comfortable. We want no huts, chief."

"It is well enough now, but in the rains it is not good."

"We shall be well on our way before the rains set in, chief."

"Wow! The Spider has seen how the ants live."

The Spider admitted that he had studied the ways of the ant.

"Good. There are strangers in the house of the ant."

"Oh yes; you mean what are called the 'cows' of the ants."

"Haw! That was the word given them by the white man who was here before. They enter the house of the ant, but out of it never do they pass."

"Is this, then, the house of the ant?" asked Mr. Hume, quietly.

The chief turned to the Hunter an impassive face. "My people can build ye good huts, and there are many places thereunder near running waters, with well-grown gardens. Choose which ye like, my brothers."

"We will examine and select," said Mr. Hume, with assumed unconcern.
"And what of Hassan?"

The chief rose. "He will return like the badger to a bee-tree when the bees have quieted down."

"And you wish to keep us to help you drive him from the honey again?
Is that it?"

The chief looked down upon the valley. "A child I came here, O great one; a boy I herded goats among the hills; and while yet other boys kept the birds off the grain, I went alone into the darkness of the woods beyond to seek the man-hunters. Now they seek me. Ye have helped in one great fight. All the time Muata has been at war—the hunter and the hunted."

He turned his face again towards them, and there was in it a touch of dignity. He broke into a kind of chant.

"Ye may hear the laughter of the little ones. There are no such at the door of Muata's hut, for a man cannot take unto himself wives and keep his arm strong to cast the spear, his eyes clear to follow the trail, and his heart strong to face the dangers that come out of the forest.

"Ye hear the voice of the young men and maidens singing in the dance. Ye may see the mothers about their work, and the old men at the fire. For them the cloud is past. They sit in the warmth of the sun, and heed not the shadows that gather in the trees. The boy who sits in the tree to frighten the birds from the grain has his turn at the dance. But the chief, he watches always; for Muata there is no rest in the Place of Rest."

"You are the first chief ever I heard take that weight upon his shoulders," said Mr. Hume, with admiration he could not restrain.

"Why don't you resign?" said Compton.

"Haw!"

"Let some one else be chief."

Muata's nostrils quivered in disgust. "Wow! I am a chief, and the son of a chief. Who is there to take my place?"

"But you were a long time away."

"Ohe! and, as ye have seen, men conspired to let Hassan and his man- eaters in upon the valley. So my word to you, my brothers, is, to choose ground for huts;" and the chief stalked away.

"I don't envy him his post," said Mr. Hume, looking after him; "but
I was right, you see."

"Well, when we want to go we will go," said Compton. "In the mean time we will make the best of these quarters and this valley, which is a good enough place for a holiday. And remember I have to find my father's journal."

Leaving the Hunter at the cave, the Young Lion and the Spider went off on an excursion, and, of course, turned their steps first of all to the gorge, to see the place where the great stand had been made. They were greeted by a small band of warriors, who were squatting on the ledge from which they had fired, and who apparently were on guard. They found themselves on the outer slope of the crater, looking down once more on the interminable reaches of the forest, with just a gleam of water showing at intervals to mark the course of the river up which Hassan's flotilla of canoes had sailed after leaving the wide lagoon. Descending from the ledge to the level of the gorge, they saw the place where the Hunter had made his stand—a little square of rock opening on to the wood path, up which the wild men had rushed to the attack. This path, as they saw, was nothing else than the dry cataract of a river, strewn with boulders, and then they suddenly turned to each other with an exclamation at the thought, "What had become of the river?"

"It's queer!" said Venning. "Where is the water?"

On looking around, they beard for the first time a peculiar subterranean rumbling, and going back a few feet, saw the river disappear in a smooth, green slide down into a wide fissure. They stood looking down, fascinated at this mysterious, silent, and stealthy disappearance of the waters that come with such a sparkle out of the bright valley; then dropped stones down, and stooped their heads in vain to catch even the slightest sound out of the depths. The fissure was about twenty feet wide, with a sloping lip on the near side, and a straight wall on the far or forest side. The slope seemed to carry the water to the left, and with a desire to discover its course, they tugged at a large post which stood against the wall of the gorge and rolled it into the fissure. It whizzed away down into the dark, and nearly dragged Compton after it, for the sleeve of his coat caught on a projecting point, and he was jerked on to his knees, being saved from further danger by the coat tearing.

"Thanks," he said, looking a little white; "I am quite satisfied that the water disappears."

"I rather think," said Venning, "that we have pulled up a gate-post. See, there is one on the other side. A few tree-trunks thrown across would make a fine barricade. Come on back into the valley."

They went back slowly, looking up at the dark walls of the rocky gorge, and Venning stopped.

"See that rock up there?"

"Looks as if it would drop at any moment."

"Remember what Muata said about Hassan drowning out the valley."

"One of his figures of speech."

"S'pose that rock fell; it would just about fill up this passage, river and all. And if it did not quite, a few men working from the ledge, which you see would be behind the dam, could easily fill up the cracks. Then the river could be dammed and the valley flooded."

"They'd have to blast the rock, and the task would be too troublesome."

They returned slowly through the defile, stopping at the place where the warrior had sprung out on Compton, and on reaching the valley, went down among the rustling bananas and among the gardens, where the women stopped their work to shout out merry greetings, and to offer them earth-nuts, wild cherries, sweet cane from the maize patches, and a thick porridge-like beverage made from the red millet. They watched the little pickaninnies basking in the sun, and as they strolled, rejoicing in the brightness and in the beauty of this little island of rest, set within an ocean of trees, they were followed by an admiring company of lads, each carrying his hurling- stick. Coming to a little patch of reeds in the far corner of the valley, the black boys, with shouts, gave chase to a long-tailed finch, clothed in a beautiful waistcoat of orange. The two white chiefs threw aside their dignity, and when, after a breathless chase, the bird, hampered by its streaming tail-feathers, was caught, each chief stuck a feather in his hatband. They worked round the valley, seeing many strange birds and curious insects, back towards the cave, arriving on the ledge at dusk. At once they opened out on Mr. Hume with a description of where they had been and what they had seen.

The Hunter listened patiently, but he was evidently preoccupied.

"We have seen all the valley, sir, and if we do have to stay here longer than we thought, it is a consolation to think that it is a jolly place."

"I have been away myself," said Mr. Hume, "and I made an unpleasant discovery. At first I thought it best to keep it from you, but I know you would not like that."

"No, sir."

"The boat has gone!"

"Gone!"

"Clean gone; stolen or hidden away. I went down shortly after you had left, found the path by the marks I had made, never saw a living soul or any spoor but our own; and I tell you it was a great shock when I saw at the first glance that the boat was not there."

"I wonder——" began Venning.

"It is no good wondering," said the Hunter, testily. "Muata or his mother has had a hand in this."

"We can soon put that right," said Compton, "by demanding that the boat be produced within a certain time."

"That would mean war," said Mr. Hume. "I had thought of that, and so no doubt has Muata. The odds are in his favour by force of numbers, for he could starve us out in a week. Violence is no use. Our best plan is to remain friendly, but watchful."

"Don't you think," said Venning, thoughtfully, "that we are on the wrong scent? Suppose the boat was stolen by Hassan's men."

"It may be—it may be, lad; and yet, if Hassan's men did find the boat, it seems to me they would have let it alone to disguise the fact of their presence. Anyway, we will make a further search to- morrow."

They had cause now for uneasiness, and the boys for the first time began to entertain suspicions about Muata's faithfulness, for the loss of the Okapi in the very thick of the forest meant to them what marooning is to the sailor man. They sat discussing the matter long into the night, and when morning came they looked out on the valley with other feelings than before. It was to them a prison, lovely still, but changed; and their eyes went to the spot where they had seen the bodies of the men upon whom Muata had fulfilled the law as he understood it, the terrible law of swift vengeance upon any who opposed the will of the chief. There were armed men on their way to the gorge from the village, and very soon, before the dew had dried on the grass, and while the morning clouds hung white on the hilltops, the chief himself came up with his headmen. And the reason of his coming was none else than to make Mr. Hume vice-chief, with full power, in his absence, over life and property in the valley; for, said he, "I go upon the trail myself, and who should have authority when I am gone but you, my friend?"

The headmen expressed themselves delighted.

"But," said the Hunter, troubled by this upset of his theory that
Muata would think only of himself, "our boat has been taken."

"The water there is taboo," said Muata, without showing any surprise. "No one would go there but that one who may go. If the boat is gone it will be returned at the appointed time. See, my friend, I give you my seat under the council tree; have you also trust in Muata, the lone hunter."

"Do you go alone?"

"Ay, alone with the silent one—he of the four legs;" and a faint smile lit up the chiefs sombre and stern countenance, as he glanced at the jackal now reappearing after good eating.

Mr. Hume went aside with Muata to dissuade him from his purpose, but the chief was determined, having in his mind a plan to destroy Hassan's canoes, as he had learnt from his spies that the Arab was arranging for another attack. So while the Hunter went down to be formally received by the clan, the two sub-chiefs, the Young Lion, and the Spider, went off on a reconnaissance of their own to the water that was "taboo," to all but one, as Muata had hinted. They picked up the trail from the marks that Mr. Hume had renewed on his last trip, and arrived on the banks of the unruffled pool. By contrast with the open valley bathed in sunshine, this sheet of water at the foot of the perpendicular cliffs was gloomy and creepy. There was, too, a mystery about it, for it had no visible source. There was no ripple on its smooth surface, no trace of a current, except in the centre, where, from time to time, bubbles appeared and disappeared, leaving just a trace of foam. They tossed pebbles in to judge the depth from the sound which ranged from the "splash" of the shallows to the gurgling "plop" of the deeps, and followed the pebbles with rocks, till at last the sluggish pool was stirred and furrowed with waves. And in the very midst of their sport a black hand appeared above the waters, and with a heavy roll the body itself floated before them, dead and stark.

The boys stood with their hands arrested, staring at this startling apparition.

Slowly it drifted away, the strong white teeth set in a grin, a dark oily stain trailing from numerous wounds on the body and limbs.

"It's a cannibal," said Compton, in a whisper.

"How did he come to be here?" muttered Venning, with a fearful glance around.

They stepped back to the shelter of a tree, and listened, for if one cannibal had found his way to the pool, it was pretty certain that others had. But there was no sound down in those shaded depths. The little waves on the pool quieted down, the surface recovered its glassy smoothness, the bubbles reappeared in the centre, and broke with a faint noise audible yet in the stillness. The pool had yielded up one of its secrets, and the poor body was now come to the end of its voyage, anchored apparently against a log of wood which had grounded against the bank.

"We can't leave it there!"

"No, Dick."

But the sudden, unexpected, ghastly upheaval from the deep of that stark body had naturally badly shaken them, and they stood where they were in nervous expectation of some other horror. If this place was "taboo" except to one yet unknown to them, it might be that solitary priest or priestess of the pool was now watching them, even if there were no other cannibals near at hand. So they lingered yet a little longer behind their tree, advancing a foot again and again, only to withdraw it at some fancied noise.

At last Compton stepped out with his carbine at the ready, stood on the shore a moment then went on till he was opposite the dead man. There Vending joined him.

There was a movement in the water among some reeds, then a ripple like that made by a heavy fish, and the body, leaving its moorings, went slowly away.

"Crocodile," muttered Venning, whose nerves had never quite recovered the shock caused the night the lion charged.

Compton frowned and shook his head.

The dark body went straight on, stopped a spell at a cluster of reeds, then moved on across, moved by some volition not its own, and not due to the current.

"It's very queer, Venning."

"It's horrible."

Compton's glance came back from the gruesome spectacle to the log, and with a start of surprise he stooped down to pick up something.

As he did so, Venning, with a yell of terror, gripped him by the shoulder. Looking up and across, Compton saw the dead man stand erect in the water, his head and shoulders above the surface, and his face towards them! He felt the moisture break out on his brow when the horrid thing began to advance without movement of its own.

Venning pointed a finger across. "It's coming," he gasped, turned and ran; and Compton felt no shame in running after.

They flew from the dark pool and its nameless horror; but when from the height they paused breathless and gasping to look down, there was no stain, or blot, or ripple on its calm face.

"Ugh!" said Compton, "it looks what it is—' Deadman's Pool.'"

Venning shuddered, turned his back upon the sheer drop with the still water at its bottom, and did not stop again until he had the peaceful valley at his feet, when he took off his hat.

"Thank goodness, we came out with our wits whole."

"It was a trick," muttered Compton, abstractedly.

"But who could play a trick like that?" asked Venning, in trembling excitement. "No human being!"

Compton put his hand on the other's shoulder. "We've both had a rare fright, old man, but neither you nor I will let a thing like that upset our appetite. Mr. Hume promised us a treat in green mealies for tea, and I smell some strange dish."

"Hulloa, lads, I was just thinking of starting out after you. Seen anything?"

"We've had a scare," said Compton, lightly, with a meaning look at
Mr. Hume; but already the observant eyes of the Hunter had seen that
Venning was upset.

"All right; just try this roast mealie;" and the strong hand steadied the boy to his seat.

Mr. Hume talked, while they ate, about the ceremony of his initiation as vice-chief and of the long, wordy arguments he had listened to in a case at law concerning the ownership of a monkey, to which there were two claimants, the boy who had caught it, and the man who owned the garden where it had been caught.

"Now," he said, when they had eaten, "you have something to tell me.
Go ahead."

They related the incident, which lost nothing of its repulsiveness by the relation:

"And you saw no one."

"No one alive, but I believe there was trickery. There must have been," said Compton, with knit brows.

"I think so too, but the trick was horrible enough to produce the effect desired. I must say I felt a creepy sensation when I was down there yesterday."

"But we saw no one," said Venning, with a shudder.

"By Jove! I forgot this;" and Compton produced a fragment of cloth.
"I took that from a post in the pool."

"A bit of rag," said the Hunter.

"Yes; but a bit torn out of my sleeve yesterday over there in the defile."

Venning snatched at it. "I have it," he shouted.

"I see you have; but you need not yell."

"The blind river! It comes out under the pool!"

Compton stared.

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Hume.

"Why, sir, we dropped a tree stump into the opening which swallows the river over there. As it slipped from our hands, it caught Dick's sleeve, tearing out the bit of cloth, and nearly taking him down too."

"Well, what then?"

"Why, the stump turns up in the pool a thousand feet below, and so must the river! You see, after entering the fissure, it twists back underground, to emerge down there at the bottom of the cliff."

"Of course," said Compton, eagerly; "and that body must have followed the same course."

"Exactly."

"That accounts for the appearance of the pool and of the dead man, but it does not explain the trickery."

"Perhaps it does," said Venning, who, now that he saw a cause for things, recovered his nerve and his spirit. "There is a subterranean passage. The formation here is volcanic. The valley is an extinct crater, the hills are the walls. Well, in volcanic formations, there are usually enormous caverns. Now, then, how do we know that the Okapi has not been taken into one of those caverns opening on to the pool?"

"Good; go on to the trickery."

"The person who hid the boat, if it is hidden, would probably be on the watch to scare off any who tried to find out what had become of it. Well, then, if we admit that, it is easy to admit the rest— that a good swimmer could play the trick played on us."

"Let me find him," said Compton, angrily.

"Yes—yes," muttered Mr. Hume; "there's a lot in that, and we'll follow it up, but not without a good plan."

He filled his pipe, and stared into the fire for some time.

"Clearly," he said, "what we should do first is to find out if any one leaves the valley for the pool. As far as we know, there is the gorge up which we came, but there may be openings direct from the valley into the underground passages. We will leave the pool alone, as if we had had enough of it, and examine the interior cliffs."