“I blame myself,” he said after a while, “that I did not take leave in the same way of those who died of the smallpox and of those who died even earlier. But now I am threatened with death—and would like to—that is, with the remainder of my caravan, go on this last great journey with them.”
At these words he pointed with his hand to the flaming sky, and two large tears trickled slowly down his cheeks.
Stasch wept like a child.
CHAPTER XIII
On the following day the sun shone down on a strange scene. Stasch walked alongside of the steep cliff, stood still in front of each negro, poured water over each forehead while making the sign of the cross, and at the same time pronounced the sacred words. And they slept—their hands and feet shaking, their heads sunk on their chests or held upright. Though still alive, they resembled corpses. In this manner the sleepers were baptized in the quiet of the morning, in the light of the sun, in the silence of the wilderness. The sky was cloudless, highly arched, gray-blue—as if shrouded in mourning.
Linde was still rational, but became weaker and weaker. After his bandage had been changed he gave Stasch some papers locked up in a tin box, and begged him to be especially careful of them; then he ceased to speak. He could not eat, but he was dreadfully tortured by thirst, and before sunset he became delirious. He called to some children, forbidding them to swim out so far in the lake; at last he began to have convulsions, and afterward sat holding his head in his hands.
On the following day he could not recognize Stasch, and three days later, at noon, he died without regaining consciousness. Stasch truly mourned for him a while, then he and Kali carried the body to a nearby cave, the opening of which they closed with thorns and stones.
Stasch took little Nasibu with him to “Cracow,” and ordered Kali to stay there, to look after the provisions and keep a large fire burning near the sleepers at night. Stasch continually rode back and forth between the two gorges, carrying back to “Cracow” baggage, weapons, and especially the cartridges for the Remington rifles, out of which he took the powder he needed to blast the rock that held King a prisoner. Fortunately Nell’s health improved very much, owing to her daily dose of quinine, and the great variety of food had given her more appetite and increased her strength. Stasch left her very reluctantly, and as he felt that something might happen to her, he forbade her leaving the interior of the tree during his absence, and closed the opening with branches of thorny acacia. On account of the increasing duties which had fallen upon him, he was often obliged to leave her in the care of Mea, Nasibu and Saba, on whom, by the way, he chiefly relied. He preferred to ride several times a day to Linde’s camp for provisions rather than leave the girl too long. This of course meant a great deal of work, but his iron nature was proof against all fatigue. It took ten days before the things were properly sorted; those not especially needed were done up in canvas and the necessary ones were deposited in “Cracow.” The horses were also brought there, as were a large number of Remington rifles; these burdens would now fall to the lot of King.
While this was being done, some of the sleepers sprang up in their last paroxysm, fled wildly into the jungle, and never returned. But there were others who died on the spot, and still others who rushed off blindly, dashing their heads to pieces on the rocks in or near the camp. Kali had to bury them. Two weeks later only one remained, and he soon expired in his sleep from exhaustion.
At last the time had come to blast the rock and release King. He was now so tame that at Stasch’s command he lifted him with his trunk and set him up on his neck. He had also become accustomed to carrying the burdens which Kali put upon his back by means of a bamboo ladder. Nell was afraid that one of the pieces was too heavy for him, but the small load he had on his back seemed no heavier for him than a fly. It was only now that their baggage—increased by the things Linde had left them—would be burdensome for him. At first he showed great restlessness on the approach of Saba, but now he was quite friendly with the dog, and played with him by throwing him down on the ground with his trunk, whereupon Saba pretended to bite him. But sometimes he unexpectedly poured water over the dog, which, of course, the latter considered a very poor joke.