They obeyed after some hesitation, with frightened looks at the grinning mummy. Then Critch picked up the mummy and laid him in the trembling arms of Mbopo and made shift to get the case on his own shoulder. He led the way out and a moment later Burt was alone.
He could hear the four stop outside while Critch lit a small fire in front of the entrance. Then the latter re-entered with an armful of large sticks and flung them down.
"So long," he muttered. "I'll put some logs up against the door inside the fire. If the lion gets through the smoke he'll stop at the logs mebbe. See you later."
"So long," murmured Burt and the other vanished. He heard a few sharp orders transmitted through Mbopo and then after five minutes three or four small logs were piled against the door. This was a decided improvement on his own plan of the fire, for now the opening was nearly blocked.
Burt waited for a few moments and then rolled over and sat up. The single wick was still burning dimly and he picked up the box of matches and stowed them away beside his own. As he listened he could hear the deep throb-throb of the larger drums from the village mingled with the sharper and more staccato notes of the tom-toms. Over all rose the shrill monotonous chant.
Suddenly there came a change. The tom-toms ceased abruptly with one or two scattered notes. The chanting died away an instant later. Then arose a low, mournful wail of absolute fear that made the listening boy shudder. This was followed by silence for a brief space and then came two bark-like notes such as had answered the young chief earlier in the evening. Critch had triumphed! Otherwise, Burt well knew that he would have heard only one shrill yell.
Burt still had his watch in its safety-pocket and had kept it wound pretty regularly. He now drew it out and held it close to the blue flame. Two o'clock; the boy stared at the hands incredulously. Had all these events only occupied five or six hours? He had been sure it was nearly morning. As it was, there were still three hours until daylight. Three hours before Critch would come!
For one moment Burt felt an insane impulse to rush from the hut and seek the village. The horror of the place rushed over him. The combined odors of the mummy, the burning oil, and the filth on the floor sickened him and he made a step forward. Then he paused abruptly. Critch was counting on him to fulfill his share of the task. His chum was doing his own share—it was no easy matter to face that village of pigmies. Was he to endanger everything at the last moment?
With a little sigh Burt drew back. He settled down among the dry leaves, leaving the light for companionship's sake. As he leaned back his eyes closed and a feeling of delicious rest stole on him, for he was very weary and tired. In another minute he was sound asleep.
He was awakened by something scratching and sniffing at the thatch behind him.