In Search of the Okapi Part 8

"Better stay with us, Muata. We go into the forest ourselves. We will give you food, and teach you how to use the weapon of the Arab hunters. You will hunt for us, work in the canoe for us, and, maybe, we will go with you to your hiding-place."

"The forest is dark and terrible. Why, will my father enter the darkness with his sons?"

"We go to hunt, and for the love of the woods and the water. Has not a hunter joy in the hunting?"

"I know it;" and the chief observed them intently, as if he were unpersuaded. "The ways of white men are strange. Muata hunts to keep the hut supplied with meat, but the white man carries his meat with him. When he kills he leaves the meat and takes only the horns or the skin of the thing he has slain. Muata is not a child. When he sees a single vulture in the sky, he knows there are others coming behind. A white man comes out of the beyond into the black man's country. He is soft-spoken; he is a hunter only. Mawoh! and behind him comes an army."

"What do you know about white men, Muata?"

"The wise men at the hiding-place talked. They knew one such. He lived among them. His ways were strange. He talked with the trees; he sought among the rocks; he communed with spirits. He was harmless, but the wise men said others would follow on his trail doing mischief. So I ask, my father, why do you wish to enter the forest?"

"Because," said Compton, leaning forward, "my father was lost in the forest, and I would find him. Tell me, where is the white man your old men talked of?"

"The forest takes, the forest keeps," said Muata, lifting a hand solemnly.

"Do you mean," asked the boy, quietly, "that the white man does not live?"

"The people dealt well by their white man. They gave him food; they carried water for him, and built his fire. Even I, as a child, carried wood to him and listened at his knees."

"I am not blaming the people; but I want to find the place that is called the Place of Rest, where my father lived; perhaps where he died."

"This, then, is the hunting?" said the chief, softly.

Mr. Hume recognized the suspicion in the altered tone and suave manner of the chief.

"We have spoken," he said sharply. "We go into the forest to hunt and to seek without anger against any. We thought you would have worked in well with us; but I see you are a man of a crooked mind."

"Softly, my father," said the chief, quietly. "Is it wise that a chief should listen to the counsel of strangers without taking thought for his people?"

"We saved the chief's life."

"The chiefs life is his own"--Muata snapped his fingers--"but the secret of the hiding-place is the life of the people. Go slowly, my father. Muata would work for you and with you; his s.h.i.+eld is your s.h.i.+eld; his eye is your eye; but the secret of the hiding-place is not his to give away."

"Then you must land here on the bank among your enemies."

The chief glanced at the far-off wooded banks, with lines of smoke rising from cooking-fires.

"I have no weapons," he said.

"We cannot help that," said Mr. Hume, with indifference. "Either you agree to take us to the Place of Rest, or you land."

Muata rose up, looked under the flat of his hand all around, then let the cotton sheet they had given him slip to the deck. The jackal started up, with his ears p.r.i.c.ked and his eyes fixed on his master's face. The chief caught hold of a wire rope and jumped on to the rail, where he steadied himself.

"What will you do?" asked Mr. Hume.

Muata turned round and pointed to the otter on his chest.

"You don't mean to say," said Venning, indignantly, "that you are going to let him swim ash.o.r.e? Why, the bank is miles away, and the crocodiles are in between."

Muata's glance fell on the jackal, and he spoke to it. The animal whined, then crouched.

"A favour, my father," he said. "If the beast followed me, he would be food for the crocodiles. Place him on land when you reach the bank, for the sake of good hunting."

"I will do so."

The chief took another long glance around, then drew himself up for the dive.

"Stop," said Mr. Hume.

Muata looked round.

"Your s.h.i.+eld is our s.h.i.+eld. So be it. We will not ask you to lead us to your hiding-place. Is that so, Compton?"

"When he leads us," said Compton, nodding his head, "it will be at his own will."

"At any rate," muttered Venning, "he has proved himself to be a man; but I wonder if he would have reached the sh.o.r.e?"

As he spoke the jackal howled, and the chief, who was still standing on the rail, slipped and fell with a splash. They ran to the side, and the jackal, with another howl, sprang to the rail and thence into the river, where a second or two later it was in the troubled wake of the steamer, beating frantically with its fore paws.

"Man overboard!" shouted Mr. Hume. "Stand by with a rope."

But the Belgian skipper on the little bridge held to his course, while a small knot of coloured pa.s.sengers aft stood laughing and chattering.

"Stop her, you swab," cried Mr. Hume; then, as the man took no notice, he ran to the wheel, thrust aside the steersman, and jammed the wheel over.

The displaced man, with an oath, flung himself at the hunter with the sympathy of the pa.s.sengers, who, ceasing their laughter, advanced with menacing cries.

Before the boys had time to comprehend the situation, Mr. Hume settled the matter out of hand. Letting go the wheel, he caught his a.s.sailant by the waistband, and with a heave flung him overboard.

Then with a quick right and left he sent two of the others reeling.

"Now," he roared at the skipper, "back her, or by the Lord I'll fling you in as well."

"Fetch the rifles," said Compton to Venning.

A moment later the two boys stood at the ready with their rifles, and amid a babel of cries the skipper signaled "Stop her." The steamer slowed up, swung gently round, and shaped back to where three dark spots showed.

"There are four," cried Venning, at his first swift glance; "and one is a crocodile. It is making for the jackal."

"Take the wheel, Compton," said Mr. Hume, quite calm again. "Give me your gun, Venning."

The hunter, with the gun, went to the side and looked over. Nearest him was the man he had thrown overboard; beyond was the jackal, making a great splas.h.i.+ng; and further on was the face of Muata, who was crying out encouragement to his faithful companion as he swam swiftly towards it; and to the left, moving rapidly towards the jackal, was the crocodile, swimming in a great swirl, with only his eyes showing, and the end of his snout. The hunter steadied himself with a shoulder against a stanchion, and then, without hurry or excitement, and after a look round the deck at the people, to see if there was any further mischief brewing, took deliberate aim and fired.

A shout went up, and the very people who had a minute before been so hostile, now were abject in their praise of Mr. Hume, for the crocodile span round and round in answer to the shot.

"Stand by with a rope, Mr. Compton," cried the hunter, taking command as if by right; and Compton obeyed promptly, but without excitement.

The first man caught the line and swarmed up wet, but subdued in spirit, casting an appealing glance at his late a.s.sailant. Muata, in the mean time, reached the half-drowned jackal, held it by the scruff of the neck with one hand, and, turning over on his back, waited for the rope. This flung and seized, he also climbed on board, but there was nothing abject in his appearance. Standing with his head thrown back and his nostrils quivering, he glared a moment at the group of natives; then, seizing a bar of iron, he made a bound forward, uttering a wild war-whoop.

There would have been bloodshed had not Mr. Hume, with surprising quietness, flung himself forward and seized the chief round the waist.