“No,” answered the professor, “unhappily I do not. But your remark has suggested to me the idea of a little experiment which I will attempt when we get back to the ship. If it should prove successful it may help us on some subsequent occasion similar to the present. But the question is, how are we to get back to the ship?”
“Well,” remarked Sir Reginald, “it appears to me that we cannot do anything more until daylight. We are lost in this forest, and have not at present the slightest notion as to the direction we ought to take. That, I think, is indisputable, and it is useless to shut our eyes to the fact. We may, therefore, as well stay here as anywhere, and rest until daylight. It is now just half-past four; we shall, therefore, not have very long to wait. Now, as to our position. We know that we left the river by way of its south bank; and, since we have not again touched it, we must still be somewhere to the southward of it. Therefore, if, when daylight comes, we head northward, we are certain to strike the river before long; and, once there, we ought not to meet with much difficulty in finding our ambush again, from which, of course, we can easily find our way back to the ship.”
“Excellent, and thoroughly well reasoned out,” remarked Lethbridge. “I quite agree with you, Elphinstone. We cannot do better than remain here until daylight, as you say; and then, with the coming of sunrise, we shall get at the points of the compass and know which way to steer in order to hit off the river again.”
The professor and Colonel Sziszkinski also agreed that Sir Reginald’s plan was a good one. They therefore settled themselves comfortably, and, with the aid of their pipes and chat, beguiled the time as best they could.
The moon had set some hours before this, and the forest was consequently plunged in darkness so profound that it was impossible to see anything beyond their immediate surroundings, which were illuminated for the space of some four or five yards by the flickering light of their torches. The silence also was profound, for the buzzing chirr of the insect-life of the place had long since ceased, and only the occasional crackle of dry leaves or twigs betrayed the fact that the great solitude held other denizens than themselves. At length, however, when their watches marked the hour of seven a.m. they became aware of a dim, ghostly light filtering down upon them from above and stealthily revealing the presence of tree-trunk, twisted creepers, and tangled underscrub at gradually widening distances from them. Whereupon they charged and lighted their pipes afresh, extinguished their torches, and, after allowing themselves a few minutes longer to enable their eyes to become accustomed to the dim, sombre twilight that alone pervaded those illimitable forest aisles, set out upon a course which they agreed would ultimately lead them back to the river.
Their course was anything but a straight one, for they were obliged to wind hither and thither between and around enormous masses of tangled, impenetrable undergrowth; and there were many occasions when they were compelled to go some little distance in a direction the very opposite of that which they wished to follow, ere they could again hit off a practicable path leading northward. Yet notwithstanding this, they began to feel some disappointment and recurrence of anxiety when, at eleven o’clock in the forenoon, they still seemed as far off as ever from finding the river. There was nothing for it, however, but to press forward as they were going; and this they did, in somewhat noisy fashion—for there seemed to them to be no very especial reason for silence—until there suddenly broke upon their ears a deep, hollow, drumming sound, speedily followed by a series of loud, fierce roars. The sounds emanated from somewhere close at hand, and after a moment’s instinctive pause to listen, they all with one accord hastened forward to investigate, with the result that they suddenly found themselves emerging from the cramped and gloomy environment of the forest depths into a comparatively open arena, roughly circular in shape, and nearly a mile in diameter, thickly carpeted with rich, lush grass, and but sparsely dotted with trees.
As the wanderers entered this space, they saw, about a dozen yards away, a very fine gorilla, upreared, with his back toward them, fiercely beating his chest with his huge fists, and giving vent to a succession of savage, barking roars. The exciting cause of this exhibition of anger was not at first apparent. But presently the little party of interested witnesses caught sight of a dark object nearly hidden in the grass; and as they watched this object, its details gradually revealed themselves, and they recognised it as an animal of the leopard species, of about the same size as the ordinary leopard, and similarly, marked, save that the tint of the skin, instead of being tawny yellow, was a rich brown, approaching very nearly to chocolate.
“Look! what animal is that?” ejaculated the professor, in a husky whisper. “I do not know him. He is new to me—a new species! And the gorilla, too; what a splendid specimen!—”
Von Schalckenberg fell suddenly silent, constrained thereto by his interest in the impending drama, for it was evident that the leopard meditated an attack upon the gorilla. The great cat was crouching low in the grass, with its ears laid back flat to its head, its savage eyes gleaming with hate as it watched every movement of its antagonist, and its tail twitching jerkingly now to this side, now to that. The gorilla, meanwhile, as fully alert as the leopard, was advancing craftily toward it, a single pace at a time, with the apparent intention of getting within leaping distance, and then suddenly springing upon its foe. The leopard, however, appeared to be fully aware of its enemy’s intention, and also of how to frustrate it; for it remained patiently crouching until the gorilla was in the very act of pulling itself together for a leap, and then, at the psychological moment, sprang high into the air, leaping clear and clean over the gorilla’s head, and landing a yard or so in his rear; then, before the huge creature had time to recover from his astonishment at such extraordinary tactics, the leopard again gathered itself together for a spring, and was in a moment on the gorilla’s back, with its teeth deeply sunk in the back of the creature’s neck, while with its terrible claws it dug and tore at the gorilla’s throat. So completely was the latter taken by surprise, that he seemed utterly incapable of striking a blow in self-defence. Instead he simply threw up his long, hairy, tremendously muscular arms, staggered backward a pace or two, and fell to the earth, moaning and groaning horribly as he clasped his terribly lacerated throat with both hands, the leopard having meanwhile leaped nimbly aside and crouched afresh as its enemy fell. It was evident, however, that there was no more fight left in the gorilla; the creature was, beyond doubt, mortally injured, and lay there moaning piteously, with the blood streaming through his fingers, making no attempt to regain his feet. His enemy at length seemed to realise this, for after remaining crouched and watching for some three or four minutes, it rose to its feet and began to slink away, but was promptly stopped and laid low by a shot from Sir Reginald’s rifle; while Lethbridge, cautiously approaching the prostrate gorilla, sent a bullet through his skull, and thus put him out of his misery.
“Now we must push on again,” exclaimed Sir Reginald. “I don’t know, Professor, whether or not you wish to have either of those skins; but, if you do, we must wait until we get back to the ship, and then come and look for them. We cannot spare the time to take them now, or cumber ourselves with them when taken. Now, gentlemen, it is noon, and there is the sun. He is on the meridian, and consequently due north of us. He certainly does not cast a very long shadow, but he casts enough to show that yonder lies our path; so, forward!”