Still they held on, and one evening they marched, blanched in face, and very weary, into sight of one of the strongholds of headman Shaillu.
CHAPTER XII
WEALTH IN SIGHT
A stockade ran round the village, and rows of thatched roofs loomed above the frowning wall of timber, but instead of the usual clamor, there was dead silence as, with some semblance of order, the footsore and spiritless carriers limped in through the open gate. Nothing except a few lizards stirred in the first sandy avenue, and the oppressive stillness remained unbroken by the voice of man or beast. The sun hung low above the parched grass in the west, and crimson splendors blazed behind the huts; but a strange musky odor replaced the pungent fragrance of burning wood which at that hour hangs over each African village.
"The whole land seems dead," Dane said slowly, leaning heavily on his rifle as he spoke. "There are times when one could almost fancy, Carsluith, that you and I were ghosts—indeed, at the present moment you don't look unlike one; but what is the meaning of this latest riddle? This is the black headman's capital, isn't it?"
Maxwell smiled mirthlessly, as he stood, with beaded forehead and shoulders bent, glancing toward the weary carriers. His face was worn and hollow, though his eyes were bright, and his clothing was dropping in tatters from his weary limbs. The glare behind him emphasized the lividness of his pallid skin.
"It is one of them. I believe he has several," he said. "Whether he fears reprisals from some plundered neighbor, or pestilence, I naturally don't know; but, as his absence will save us a good many presents and much loss of time, it is not material. Still, we might find some clue in one of these huts."
Maxwell entered the nearest, then moved into another, and stayed there some time, leaving Dane in the sandy avenue before it; the carriers were resting at a distance. The sun dipped, and as Dane watched the night creep up swiftly from the east, it struck him that there was a curious uncanny feeling about the place. It was a relief when his comrade returned, looking graver than ever.
"Did you find any one inside?"
"I did," was the answer. "Unfortunately the man, as well as the one in the next hut, was dead, and had, I fancy, been so for some time. He probably died of a plague, which explains why the town is empty. We may find something more conclusive in one of the larger huts."