A CLOSE SHAVE.
The Greek’s extreme terror sprang from no insignificant cause. Over the crest of a ridge some thirty yards distant came a large body of men. It was very evident that they would pass close to the rock, and the three fugitives, crouching on its flat surface in the gloom, may well be pardoned for believing that the enemy were on their track.
As the advance guard drew still closer, Canaris thrust his face against the stone. Melton did the same; but Guy, whose curiosity fairly mastered his fear, ventured to raise his head slightly, and a single glance showed him that the strange foe had no intention of halting.
They passed within ten yards of the rock, it is true, but not a man looked to right or left, and they moved at a rapid and steady pace.
Guy’s amazement grew deeper as the long procession went by in constantly increasing numbers, for even to his unskilled eyes it was plain that these men were neither Arabs nor Somalis.
The dim light revealed their powerful stature, the dark faces crowned with turbans, the linen cloaks that were flung carelessly on their shoulders, and the various arms, comprising shields, swords, spears, and even guns.
At intervals the stalwart figure of a man towered above the rest, mounted high on a camel or an elephant.
Melton and Canaris ventured to raise their heads in response to a nudge from Guy, and all three witnessed the passing of this strange procession, which comprised nearly a hundred men.
As the rear guard vanished over a ridge to the south, Canaris, without a word, swung himself nimbly to the ground and picked up some glittering object that lay in the path.
“Look,” he exclaimed in a tone of wonder, as Guy and Melton followed him down, “do you recognize this workmanship? But no, how could you?” he resumed, without waiting for an answer. “This weapon is of Abyssinian make, and those men were Abyssinians.”
“But what are they doing here, so far from their own country?” demanded Guy.
“It is a war party,” said Canaris, “and we are not so far from the borders of Abyssinia, after all. It is no uncommon thing for them to raid on the Gallas.”
The dagger passed from hand to hand, and was inspected with much curiosity, until Canaris pointed toward the east and said: “Morning has come, and the sun will soon be up. Let us climb the rock and make a survey of the country.”
Daylight came on with marvelous rapidity, and as the range of vision gradually became clear for a distance of several miles, the Greek rose to his feet and scanned the surroundings with a sweeping gaze.
His countenance expressed first perplexity, then delighted surprise, and turning to his companions he cried:
“We have reached our destination. See! There is the stone kraal, those scattered columns of rock to the south that rise from the jungle. Yes, the old Englishman was right, for yonder lies the Elephant Peak and the Lion’s Head.”
It was indeed as the Greek said. The broad valley was dotted with a curious rock formation that bore a strong likeness to a native village of huts, and on either side of the valley, from the rugged chains of mountains, rose two lofty peaks, one fashioned like a recumbent elephant, the other a perfect semblance of a lion’s shaggy head.
A murmur of surprise burst from the trio as they gazed along on this strange verification of their hopes.
The mountain peaks were at least four miles distant, for the breadth of the valley was about eight.
For the moment the recent passage of the warlike Abyssinians was forgotten. Then a very significant occurrence recalled it forcibly to their minds.
From the base of the Lion’s Head suddenly rose a column of yellow smoke, and two or three gun shots echoed distinctly across the valley.
“The Abyssinians have attacked the town of the Gallas,” cried Canaris. “It lies at the foot of that peak, and is the same kraal at which the Englishman was kept in slavery when he discovered the underground river.”
“I hope they’ll eat each other up like the Kilkenny cats,” observed Guy coolly.
“But you don’t understand,” cried the Greek in strange excitement. “They will scatter over the valley, they will flee to those rocks yonder for protection, and unless we find the entrance to that river at once we are lost.”
“Canaris is right,” spoke up Melton. “We must make immediate search for the rock with the cross. It is our only hope.”
“Yes, our only hope,” echoed the Greek. “Come quickly, there is no time to lose.”
He slipped to the ground and led his companions rapidly down the valley toward the stone village.
They hastened on among the scattered rocks for a quarter of a mile or more, until the extreme southern edge was reached, and then Canaris stopped.
“This is the south side,” he said; “we must search the rocks for one with a cross.”
They scattered, Guy toward the west, Melton to the east. It was a time of peril, for the yellow smoke was curling up over the Lion’s Head in heavier columns, and the firing was more distinct, as though the conflict were spreading toward them across the valley.
“The rock with the cross, on the south side of the stone kraal.” A simple enough direction on the face of it, and yet the eager searchers, as they hurried from stone to stone, scrutinizing every side and angle, failed to discover the faintest trace of anything resembling a cross.
Canaris wrung his hands in dismay when they came together after the fruitless search.
“We are lost, we are lost!” he groaned. “What will become of us? Go, make another search; inspect the base of every stone; the hidden entrance must exist.”
Guy shook his head.
“That cross was made twenty years ago,” he said. “In that time the storms could have destroyed all trace of it unless the Englishman carved it very deep, and in that event we should have discovered it already.”
“It must be found,” persisted Canaris in his terror. “Hark! The firing is coming nearer. In half an hour the valley will swarm with savage foes. Go! Go! Go!”
He fairly shrieked out the last words, and threw himself in despair down amid the jungle grass.
The Greek did not exaggerate the danger. A startling confirmation of his fears was at hand.
Warned in time by a commotion in the bushes, Guy and Melton dropped flat, as a savage, spear in hand, and bleeding from a wound in the head, burst out of the jungle twenty yards distant and made full speed for a rock a few yards to the north of that by which the Englishmen lay concealed.
All unconscious of the three pairs of eyes watching his movements, he stooped, flung the tangled grass madly aside, and, rolling a loose stone from the base of the rock, revealed a dark cavity in the smooth side.
He threw a frightened glance in the direction he had come, and, dropping his spear and diving into the hole, pulled the stone back in place from within.
All this happened in less time than it takes to tell.
“Saved!” burst thankfully from Guy’s lips as he sprang to his feet.
“Saved!” echoed Melton and Canaris.
Snatching up their baggage, they dashed across the narrow space that divided the two great boulders. Guy tore the rock from the entrance, and, as the imprisoned savage within uttered a hoarse cry, he pointed his rifle at the opening.
“Go ahead,” called out Melton; “he’s unarmed; he can’t harm you.”
Guy hesitated for an instant, and then crawled into the forbidding cavern on hands and knees.
A distant sound of scuffling and rattling of stones told that the savage was retreating into the bowels of the earth.
Melton handed in the rifles and the baggage, and crawled in after them. Canaris was the last to enter, and with Melton’s aid the stone, which was round in shape, was pulled back against the entrance, and all was darkness, save for one crevice an inch or two wide.
The Greek peered sharply through this, and then exclaimed in a low whisper: “We are just in time. A party of Abyssinians are approaching through the jungle in pursuit of the Galla fugitive.
“Hush!” he added; “don’t make a sound; they are coming directly toward the rock.”