The blind lion of the Congo

by Elliott Whitney

"So long," answered Burt. "Don't keep me waitin' all night, now."

So Critch departed on his mission, while Burt lay back to think things over. If it was true that the river near the village ran northwest, then it almost certainly ran into the Makua, or a tributary of the Makua. In that case they would be perfectly safe in floating down. There would be dangers on the way, but by taking a few of the white dwarfs along Burt realized that these would be greatly lessened. On the other hand, should the river prove to turn and flow back toward the Aruwimi country, they would probably miss the caravan altogether. In any case, their whole future depended upon the issue of that night's "performance," as Burt mentally styled his bringing to life.

The disappearance of the sun roused him to the fact that he had work to do. Taking a spear and a broad-bladed sword from the weapons Critch had left, Burt went inside the hut. Here he set to work energetically digging the hole for the final resting place of Ta-En-User, the High Priest of Maat. The tramped earthen floor was easily broken up by means of the spear, and as the dusk settled down over the forest Burt finished a shallow hole sufficient to hold the mummy.

"It's kind o' hard lines," he thought, wiping his dripping face as he returned outside. "Here old Ta was wrapped up carefully three thousand years back, meaning to lie quiet forever. He don't more than get comfortably settled down when along come the white dwarfs to rouse him up, and they carry him clear over here. Then he settles down once more, and we come along and finish him. If he'd been buried right in the first place—why, if they'd done things different three thousand years back there wouldn't be any Pongo!"

Burt was roused from his rather intricate calculations by a particularly savage mosquito settling on his ear. Having disposed of the insect, Burt daubed his face and hands with what remained of the palm oil. Then he beat down the grass at a spot where he could see between two of the tusks and settled down to wait. He was uneasy at the idea that the lion might return at any moment, and felt not the slightest temptation to drop off to sleep.

The swift tropical night settled down over the forest, and soon Burt could make out the glow of the village fires. After what seemed an age he heard the sound of chanting mingled with the throb of the tom-toms. This continued for half an hour, then ceased. A few moments later a moving light appeared at the zareba gate, followed by others. Burt guessed that these were torches, and knew that the time was at hand.

More and more torches poured out of the gate, until by their light Burt could make out fairly well all that took place. It seemed that the entire tribe was leaving the village. At the head of the procession stalked Mbopo, with Critch beside him. Burt could see his chum carrying something wrapped in a skin, and knew this was the mummy. Then came the two brothers of Mbopo, carrying the golden ankh between them on a spear, while a third man bore the mummy-case. Behind marched the bodyguard of the chief, the rest of the tribe following in a mob.

At the point where the boys had been left for the lion, halfway between village and hut, the tribe was halted. Mbopo arranged the men and women in a wide semicircle, evidently following the orders of Critch. The "drum corps" was then brought to the front, the greater part of the torches were extinguished, and Critch, Mbopo and the bearers of the relics moved forward. Burt saw his chum stop at a point distant about a hundred feet from the hut and directly in front of the gateway.

After a slight delay, a fire was lit here. This presently blazed up, Critch wishing to wait until plenty of light was cast upon the sacred objects and the gateway of the ivory zareba. At a signal from Mbopo the tom-toms began a steady, regular beat and the pigmies broke into a low chant that swelled at intervals until the echoes came back faintly from the forest. Burt watched the scene through his loophole in silent fascination. He had no fears as to its outcome, for the dwarfs were plainly under the dominance of Critch.

Now the fire blazed up higher and higher. Burt saw his chum, whose flaming hair glowed out in the ruddy light, suddenly raise his hand. The drums and chanting stopped abruptly, and the dead silence that ensued sent a quiver through the boy behind the ivory stockade. Critch bent over, opened the skin bundle, and exposed the mummy to view. At this, one prolonged groan went up from the audience and the crowd went down on their faces, even Mbopo falling prostrate.