A few feet beyond the village gates the Bagalla halted; they had no medicine to safeguard them against the malign influences of the demons of the darkness and the jungle.
There they stood, shouting threats and insults at the four fugitives who stumbled along the crooked jungle trail. But words could neither harm them, nor bring them back, and presently Galla Galla led his people back into the village and closed the gates.
"Tomorrow," he said, "when the light first comes faintly through the forest, we will go forth and bring them back, for they will not go far tonight where the lions hunt, and the panthers lie in wait above the trail."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ukundo, master of jungle craft, led the little party by ways that no other might have found. He did not always follow the well-beaten trails, but seemed to know by instinct where short cuts might be taken and where one, by crawling upon all fours, might find a way through what seemed an impenetrable mass of tangled vegetation. For half an hour they moved along in silence; then Ukundo stopped.
"Lion!" he whispered. "He is coming! Take to the trees!"
Dick and Doc could see nothing, could hear nothing. They had been following each other by the not always simple expedient of actually touching the one ahead. If they lost touch, they were as good as lost until they again made contact. Now they saw no trees. They knew there were trees all about them, but they could see none. The blackness was everywhere—darkness absolute. They stood up and groped about.