CHAPTER XXV
THE CRY IN THE NIGHT
As the fire-sticks snapped under the heat, the jackal would open his yellow eyes and start back with his gaze fixed inquiringly on the fire, whose mystery he could never solve. One of these starts roused Venning, who, seeing the cause, threw out a hand and drew the animal to him. He felt nervous, and the company of the jackal comforted him, and the jackal in its turn forgot its uneasiness in the warmth of the blankets. With a little sigh it curled up and went to sleep.
The boy was the only one awake, and out in the wide space beyond he heard a voice calling—
"Ngonyama'"
He held his breath, and his throat grew very dry, for it was the voice he had heard in the cavern, only sad this time, and not mocking as before.
"Ngonyama!—yama!" It came thin and melancholy, with a long lingering on the last syllables.
He put his hand out to rouse Mr. Hume, then drew it back ashamed of his fancies; but the movement awoke the jackal. It lifted its head, snuffed the air, then sprang up with the ruff on its neck erect, and its sharp white teeth gleaming. Several moments it stood so, then with many a look out, curled itself up again.
Venning had watched it breathlessly, now he patted it to sleep, and dozed off himself, only to wake up in a violent tremble, with that sound quivering plaintively in the air—
"Ngonyama! Ngonyama!"
He brushed his hand across his forehead, and found his face burning hot. He removed his blanket from his shoulders and sat up, still patting the jackal. The fire was before him, and the dark ring of the cave's mouth; but his eyes dilated as he looked, for within the glare of the fire was that same awful face he had seen down in the darkness.
He would have cried out, but his voice would not come; and with an effort—for all the blood seemed to have left his limbs—he slowly moved his hand to Mr. Hume's.
The Hunter made no sign; but Venning, with his face turned still in a frozen stare towards the entrance, caught a change in the breathing, and knew that his touch had answered its purpose. To the boy they were acting over the scene in the cavern again. He was waiting for the shrill laugh, the sudden treacherous thrust of steel in the dark, and then the ring of metal on the rocks.
Then, without any sign having been given that he was awake, the jackal in a bound was over the fire, swollen to double his size by the bristling hair, and uttering as he charged a fierce yelp.
Muata seemed to awake and spring forward all in one movement. A moment he paused in the glare of the light, stooping forward, the glare showing red on his blade, and the next he was gone with a war- whoop, and in his place stood the Hunter, crouching also with the broad blade in his hand. Between the fierce yelp of the jackal and the spring of the Hunter only a few seconds had passed. The three of them less than half a minute since had been asleep; and now, out of the darkness on the ledge beyond came the ring of metal and the savage grunts of men fighting for their lives.
Venning remained where he was, too ill to rise; and Compton, not yet trained to act on a sudden emergency, sat up, bewildered by the noise.
"Mr. Hume—Godfrey—what is it?"
"The witches," said Venning, "out of the underground. I saw one looking in."
"Eh?"
Compton felt for his carbine, and, gathering his wits, ran out, receiving promptly, on getting within the ring of light, a blow on his arm, followed by a clutch at his throat. Driving the muzzle of his gun forward into something soft which emitted a grunt, he freed himself from his assailant, and sprang aside. He heard the whizz of weapons, the clash of blows, and saw dark forms indistinctly moving rapidly this way and that; then his rifle flashed as he saw a crouching form stealing upon him.
"Yavuma!" cried the Hunter's voice, giving the Kaffir war-cry as he swung his terrible weapon at a foe.
"Yavuma '" cried Muata, with the jackal snarling by his side. "Fire, little great one, into the thick."
It was very well to say fire, but Compton could not tell friend from foe until, bending low, he made out that while two men had their backs to the cliff there were others around them in an enclosing ring. Judging these were the enemy, though he could make out no distinguishing point, he went down on his knee and fired rapidly.
A man dashed by him towards the gorge, and the rest who could followed. One gave a slashing left-hand stroke with a long sword as he went by the kneeling marksman, and Compton went down in a heap. The man paused to finish his work, but with a savage roar the Hunter leapt forward and bore him to the ground.
At the heels of the flying men went the jackal, and after him, soft- footed, went Muata, still-voiced.
The fight was over. Mr. Hume picked Dick up and carried him into the cave.
"A light," said the Hunter.
Venning, with his head throbbing, crawled feebly to where the lantern was, lit it with trembling fingers, and, sitting up, threw the light on the two forms—on the one face, beaded, working still with the fury of the fight; on the other, still, white, and blood- stained.
The boy's hand shook more violently, and in his weakness he sobbed.
"Put the lantern down," said Mr. Hume, fiercely.
Quickly he staunched the flow of blood, cut away the hair, and then, with an impatient look at the sobbing boy, lowered the head he was supporting, and searched for liniment, ointment, and restoratives.
Bending over his task, he worked with skilful fingers, and then, with a sigh, watched the white face intently. Then he went outside to listen, to bend over the figures lying still in the darkness, and returning, built up the fire.
Venning watched him return to Dick, saw the long, anxious scrutiny, and then burst out crying as he saw a look of relief come into the rugged face.
"Don't worry, lad; he'll pick up."
"I know you think I'm no good," was the boy's heartbroken reply.
Mr. Home was at his side. "Nonsense, lad. I know what it is to have a touch of fever; and besides, I believe it was you who gave warning."
"I heard some one calling Ngonyama," said the boy, in a whisper, "and I saw the face in the entrance—the same face I saw down under there. Were they the witches?"
"It was Hassan and some of his men. They must have escaped from the river and remained in hiding. I felt your hand in the night, and it woke me. So, you see, you did your part. Now rest, there's a good chap."
Mr. Hume made the boy a cooling drink, with a dose of quinine.
"I would have helped, if I could."
"You did help," said the Hunter, earnestly. "If it had not been for you we should have been killed while we slept. You saved our lives, just as you saved the valley by your thought of letting the water out."
Venning was comforted. He rose up on his elbow to have another look at Dick, saw that the colour was coming back into the white face, and leant back on his pillow.
In the morning Muata came into the cave, staggering like a drunken man from loss of blood, and at his heels limped the jackal with his tongue out.
"Well?" said the Hunter.
"The last fell on the shores of the dead pool, and the last was
Hassan himself."
The chiefs bloodshot eyes roamed over the cave, until they rested on
Venning's startled face.
"On the brink of the pool he fell, and where he fell there, too, was the Inkosikase." It seemed as if he were addressing the remark to Venning.
"I heard her call 'Ngonyama' in the night," whispered the boy.
"Wow!"
"So the young chief told me after you had gone," said the Hunter.
Venning nodded his head.
The chief accepted the explanation. "The Inkosikase waited for the wolf by the water's edge," he said simply, "and I smote him behind the ear. So her spirit is at rest."
"Let me see to your wounds, chief."
"Wow! It is well my people should see them;" and the warrior went down with unsteady steps to the village, leaving a trail of blood; and when the people had shouted in triumph at his story of the last fight, the medicine men took him into their charge, when his life was in danger of escaping through one of those gaping cuts made by Arab swords on his body.
For a fortnight Mr. Hume nursed his young friends back to health, and for a week they sat and walked in the sun, slowly regaining strength; and then came the first forerunner of the rains in a day of pelting showers.
"It is the beginning," said Muata, who was proud of his newly healed scars. "You must come down into the valley."
"There was something said about the full moon," said Mr. Hume, suspiciously.
The chief laughed. "It was the wish of the Inkosikase; but now she is gone, it is in my heart to take the wives to myself. But there are others, Ngonyama."
"No, chief," said the Hunter, quickly. "How do you live in the rains, chief? Is there much discomfort?"
"Wow! it is the red pig's life—mud all about; and there is much sickness, for the people crowd together in the huts."
"I suppose we must stay and make the best of it; but the huts are small."
"They are the best we can make."
"I don't know," said Venning, thoughtfully, with his eyes on the opposite cliff. "I see there are trees up there. Is there a way up?"
"There is a goats'-track. What is in your mind, young wise one?"
"We will climb up that goats'-path, chief," said Venning, "with all the men, cut down many of those trees, and roll them over the cliff into the valley. Then will we build a great house, and the women will gather grass and reeds for the thatching of it."
"It would be a good plan, if it could be done."
"We'll do it," said the Hunter; "but if we are to stay here, we must bring up the boat, and you must let us have some of your men."
"All," said the chief; and that day the Okapi was brought up in sections.
Then Venning's scheme was taken in hand, the cliff scaled, a hundred trees felled, and rolled over as they fell, with all the branches on. Then they returned to the valley, drew the fallen trees out, lopped off the branches, shaped the poles, dug holes, and got the uprights into position. Then followed the ridge-poles and the sideposts, and the roof took shape, to the wonder of the women, a noble span covering some thousands of square feet, with a length of one hundred and fifty feet, and a height of fifty feet. As the supporting rafters were laid, the women climbed up and set to work at the thatching, using long bands of bark for the binding. And while the women worked at the roof, the men built up stone walls, under directions of the architects. The great house built, a smaller one was made for the women, to serve as a general kitchen, with great stacks of wood piled up all round for the fires. The entire population was kept hard at it for a week, and when the work was done, there was a grand ceremony over the wedding of Muata; and then one morning they awoke to find a low grey canopy drawn over the valley, from which fell a steady drizzle of rain. The next day was like the first, and so on for nearly three months there was a perpetual mist in the valley, a long dismal succession of leaden skies hanging low. One of these days the three white friends, in company with Muata, paid a visit to the underground world to obtain a supply of sulphur to serve as a disinfectant and purifier—another idea of Venning's. They found the dark passages thundering to the fall of the water, but they found no signs whatever of living creatures. With their loads of sulphur they very soon left the forbidding place, and for some days after the unhappy people of the village had to submit to the terrors of fumigation. As the "medicine" was undoubtedly strong, and as it certainly stopped the progress of sickness that had broken out, the "Spider" rose in the estimation of the people as a great wizard.
At last the curtains were drawn, the blue of the sky appeared, and the valley glittered in the brilliant sunlight.
Then the women went singing to their gardens, the men prepared for the hunt, and the white chiefs got out their shining canoe from its wrappings, rubbed it with fat, and polished it with wood-ashes till it shone like a looking-glass.
"Ton will go, then?" said Muata.
"If your men will carry the pieces down to the larger river below the gates, we will thank you."
The men went off singing, six men to each section, and in the afternoon the Okapi was once more in her proper element.
"And which way will you go, Ngonyama?"
"We have thought it over during the rains, chief. We will go back through the open water, back past the place where we landed in the forest, back into the great river, and then south, even to the farthest reaches of the Congo, when we shall be among people I know. There we will get carriers to take the boat to the waters of another great river, the Zambesi."
"Towards the setting sun," said Muata. "And you will want a man?"
"Two men, we would ask; and one of them, the Angoni warrior, who did so well in the fight, for his country is to the south."
"Only one man you can have," said the chief, shortly.
They had said their good-bye to the people in the valley, who had wept at their departure, for the white men had done much for them, and never before had they borne the visitation of the rains with so little discomfort.
Now they said good-bye to the chief, the man who had shared so much of danger with them, whose shield had been their shield, whose spear had been theirs to command.
It was difficult to say good-bye, for he seemed moody, answered them in monosyllables, and at last, after a curt nod, left them long before they were ready to go. And when at last they were heading down the broad river to the old pleasant music of the clanging levers, the edge of their joy was blunted by the thought of the warrior's lowering looks.
"I'm sorry," said Mr. Hume, for the third time.
"I believe he has had something on his mind for days past," said
Venning; "and yesterday I saw him arguing with the headmen."
"Yet he never opposed our going. I have never seen him like that before. Hang it all, I can't bear to think we have left him looking so down;" and Compton banged the lever over.
They went on in silence for a mile, still thinking over Muata, when the Angoni, who was on watch, cried out—
"Congela!"
"What do you see?"
The man pointed a black finger at the river, and on it they saw two black spots. The man's teeth gleamed in a smile and his black eyes sparkled.
They stood up to look, and then Mr. Hume motioned to the boys.
"Let her have it," he said; and they made those levers smoke in the slots, for they saw in those black spots the long face of the jackal and the head of Muata!
They were helped dripping on board, the chief with nothing else than his Ghoorka blade.
Mr. Hume waited for an explanation, and the chief gave it in his calm way, without a smile.
"You wanted two men, great one. I am the second."
"But we go far, while the moon is many times at the full."
"You go towards the setting sun, Ngonyama, and there also goes the son of the Inkosikase."
"But your people?"
"I have said my say with them. They are in peace, and they can live in peace; but is Muata a goat that he should live in a kraal? Wow! I am a Hunter, like this little one;" and he patted the jackal on the head.
"We are only too glad to have you, chief, if your mind is fully made up?"
"See, Ngonyama, I thought to live in ease and grow fat, but the spirit of my mother called out upon me—ay, it fought within me—and I go for the hills and the open plains. Behold, I am no longer chief." He took the long blue feather from his head, and let it glance to the water. "My shield is your shield."
He sat down in the bows with his face toward the river, and the boys laughed as they worked the levers.
"Ripping!" said Compton, feeling quite happy, as he touched his precious journal.
"As good as finding a new butterfly," said Venning.
Mr. Hume nodded his head gravely several times, and then a smile came into his eyes.
"I guess," he said, "we'll have some good hunting."
And good hunting they had after they had passed the Stanley Falls and were in the game country, stretching for hundreds of miles to the Zambesi. Some day, perhaps, we may hear of the adventures they had in their long voyage before at last, a thousand miles off, they touched bottom in the shallows where the mighty Congo narrowed down to a stream that could be crossed at a jump. From the Congo they marched to a tributary of the Zambesi, and at the Victoria Falls, after having gathered a store of ivory, they found an ox-wagon, which took them to Bulawayo; and near Bulawayo the two boys, now stalwart young men, took possession of a farm owned by Mr. Hume, to wait for the return of the Hunter from England, whither he had gone. On his return they would go north, in order to keep their promise to pick up Muata, whom they left at an Angoni kraal, on another hunting expedition.