“Four hours more of night till dawn,” said Simba, after they had got a little distance off. “We must march south. Come.”
In a hard, dry, trackless forest, when once a fugitive escapes it becomes impossible to find him. Had Kalulu not taken the precaution to strip himself of his cloth, and place the head of Tifum in it, it is probable that the fugitives might have been pursued; but there was no clue to the direction they had taken, for five hundred warriors had trodden the ground all around while hunting for fruit, or sticks, or water for cooking, the day before, even if the hard drouthy ground might have received the impression of a few men’s naked feet. And the natural questions the warriors would ask themselves and each other in the morning would be, “Which way have they gone? Is it north, south, east, or west? or any other of the lesser or intermediate points?” to which, of course, no definite answer could be given; while the more superstitious would say, “Ah! it is Soltali who has taken them away!” and would fear to leave their fellows.
Simba, Moto, and Kalulu knew this, and though they journeyed fast, they journeyed confidently. But, as each of the party was busy with his own thoughts, no words were exchanged until it was grey morning, and day had more power to pierce the gloom of the forest than the old moon, which but faintly showed them their way before morning, when Selim saw some mysterious bundle in Kalulu’s hand, and asked him what it was.
“Don’t ask now, Selim, my brother, we must march,” said Kalulu, and nothing more was said until at nine o’clock they stopped at a swamp to refresh themselves with water, when Kalulu setting down his bundle to drink, the cloth fell off one side, and exposed the head of a man.
“Allah!” ejaculated Selim, profoundly astonished; “what is this?” and Abdullah also cried out in astonishment the same words.
“What should it be, my brothers, but the head of Tifum the Wicked?” asked Kalulu.
“But this is murder, is it not?” asked Selim, aghast at the unsightly and livid head.
“Murder!” echoed Simba; “I think not, young master. It may be with thy people, but with Kalulu cut off his head. Was Tifum not going to cut off Kalulu’s head?—and perhaps thine, for he hated thee enough, Allah knows.”
“Yes,” said Niani, “I heard Tifum swear he would do it.”
“Well, but he did not do it, and I am sorry, Simba, thou hast thus needlessly taken life,” said Selim, with difficulty repressing a shudder.