"Sah wait bit," said Mbutu with a knowing smile. He waded out to a large rock in mid-stream, threw himself flat upon it, and peered over into the water. A few moments passed; then Tom saw the boy's knife flash as he plunged his arm into the water. He drew it up, and there was a fine fish, somewhat resembling a trout, gleaming on the point. He looked round triumphantly at Tom; then bent once more over the water, and soon speared another fish in the same way. When he had caught four he returned to the bank, and asked his master for the box of matches.
"Why, they're soaked; absolutely useless, Mbutu. You'll have to make fire some other way."
Mbutu at once cut a small block of hard wood from a tree, and scooped out a little hollow in it. Then he found a thin straight switch, and sharpened it at one end. He inserted this in the hollow of the block, and began to twirl it round rapidly in both hands. He was out of practice, and looked rather blue when no fire came; but, persevering, he succeeded after some minutes in kindling a spark. He then lit a fire, slit and cleaned the fish, and had the delight of offering his master some appetizing broiled fish-steaks. Not content with this, he returned to the rock, rapidly captured half a dozen more fish, and then, throwing on to the fire the leaves of plants that made a thick smoke, he attempted a rough-and-ready process of dry-curing. This done, he searched about till he found a thin and flexible tendril, on which he strung the dried fish, declaring gleefully that his master would certainly have a good breakfast next day.
There being still two hours or more of daylight left, as they judged by the position of the sun, they walked on again, feeling refreshed in body, and more cheerful in mind than they had been for a week. They still clung to the edge of the stream, and at one point narrowly escaped treading on a crocodile basking by the bank, where it was indistinguishable from a log of wood. Mbutu was only warned of the danger by a sudden startling flash of light. Jumping back, he pointed out that the glare was the reflection of the sun in the saurian's greedy eye. By and by they came to a tributary flowing into the river on the right hand. It was a fairly large stream, about thirty yards broad at the point of ingress, and as its course was from the south-east, Tom decided to turn and follow it up. While tramping below the left bank, which was high and steep, and finding the walking rather easier than it had been hitherto, the ground being rocky, they came to a deep inlet, at the bottom of which there was a cavern; half-hidden by vine-sprays trailing over the bank.
"The very place for our night's rest," said Tom.
They entered, strewed leaves and grass on the smooth dry floor, and slept soundly till daybreak. Though his limbs ached when he rose, and he was still feverish, Tom felt better than on the previous day, and ate heartily of the broiled fish and roots which Mbutu had prepared for him. Then, leaving the cave, they walked for about half a mile, and found that the stream bent suddenly round to the left. Mbutu climbed a tree, and told his master that he could see the water for some distance, forming a loop and winding away towards the north. Arabs would certainly be ranging the country in that direction; there was nothing for it but to strike into the forest again, and pursue their journey to the south or south-west.
Tom was not reassured by the aspect of the forest. While there was less of tangled undergrowth and thorn, the trees appeared to be thicker and larger than ever. There was no sign of edible plants, but the animals were even more numerous, and the insects more multitudinous and irritating. As they crossed a babbling rivulet, apparently a tributary of the stream they had recently left, they were met by a cloud of moths reaching from the water's face to the loftiest tree-tops, and looking, as it approached, like a glittering shower of lavender-coloured snow, the particles whirling about in the slight gusts that blew along the course of the streamlet. Farther on, a dozen tree stems, thrown down during a recent storm, lay across one another at various angles, completely blocking the way, and the travellers found that the easiest mode of proceeding was to clamber up one of them that sloped at an angle of forty-five degrees, and to scramble thence on to another, and then to another sloping downwards, until they reached terra firma again. Their progress was terribly slow and arduous, and long before the mid-day heat rendered rest imperative, Tom felt thoroughly exhausted. His clothes were now a miscellany of rags, his boots mere gaps. He noticed what appeared to be ulcers breaking out upon his arms, and found that the exertion of walking and climbing made him faint, and produced a keen pain in his chest. He had had nothing to eat since the last of Mbutu's fish was consumed, and with the faintness and hunger came inevitable dejection of mind.
While he rested on a log, Mbutu went off alone to search again for food, but could find nothing but a few withered berries and some fungi, which, suspicious as they were, Tom was fain to swallow.
"We must try again," he said presently. "I am beginning to think it would have been better to follow the stream and chance the Arabs. I can't keep up much longer, Mbutu."
The Muhima was speechless, though his eyes eloquently expressed his anxiety and affection. Before they resumed their journey he cut his master another stout staff from a sapling of hard wood, the first having been lost in the stream. After struggling through the forest for about an hour, every step more painful to Tom, they came suddenly upon an unexpected scene of desolation. It was a wide clearing, on which a village of considerable dimensions had at one time stood; the blackened ground told a tale of burning and rapine. Beyond it there were whole groves of banana-trees scorched and ruined, hundreds of palms lying prostrate, and acres of ground, once cultivated, now denuded of every vestige of life. Near a heap of ashes lay a number of charred bones, and Tom shuddered as he passed on.