The Blind Lion of the Congo Part 22

"Him take axe, hit Pongo. Pongo hit him with fire, burn him up," and he moved the single lamp a trifle so that the light fell full on the mummy beside him.

Had the situation not been so serious Burt could have laughed at the sickly gray look which overspread the features of the pigmies as they fell to their knees. With one frightened groan all three buried their faces in the dirt. Critch knew it was time to act and rose to his feet.

"Get up!" commanded the boy sternly. He took the dwarfs by the hand and raised them up one by one. "Pongo him mad. Him say no kill lion yet. Him say take to village." Critch pointed at the village and the pigmies comprehended. Then he patted them on the back and smiled and little by little their fears were overcome. Taking a spear from Mbopo he pa.s.sed it through the loop of the golden ankh and signed to the two brothers to raise it.

They obeyed after some hesitation, with frightened looks at the grinning mummy. Then Critch picked up the mummy and laid him in the trembling arms of Mbopo and made s.h.i.+ft to get the case on his own shoulder. He led the way out and a moment later Burt was alone.

He could hear the four stop outside while Critch lit a small fire in front of the entrance. Then the latter re-entered with an armful of large sticks and flung them down.

"So long," he muttered. "I'll put some logs up against the door inside the fire. If the lion gets through the smoke he'll stop at the logs mebbe. See you later."

"So long," murmured Burt and the other vanished. He heard a few sharp orders transmitted through Mbopo and then after five minutes three or four small logs were piled against the door. This was a decided improvement on his own plan of the fire, for now the opening was nearly blocked.

Burt waited for a few moments and then rolled over and sat up. The single wick was still burning dimly and he picked up the box of matches and stowed them away beside his own. As he listened he could hear the deep throb-throb of the larger drums from the village mingled with the sharper and more staccato notes of the tom-toms. Over all rose the shrill monotonous chant.

Suddenly there came a change. The tom-toms ceased abruptly with one or two scattered notes. The chanting died away an instant later. Then arose a low, mournful wail of absolute fear that made the listening boy shudder. This was followed by silence for a brief s.p.a.ce and then came two bark-like notes such as had answered the young chief earlier in the evening. Critch had triumphed! Otherwise, Burt well knew that he would have heard only one shrill yell.

Burt still had his watch in its safety-pocket and had kept it wound pretty regularly. He now drew it out and held it close to the blue flame. Two o'clock; the boy stared at the hands incredulously. Had all these events only occupied five or six hours? He had been sure it was nearly morning. As it was, there were still three hours until daylight.

Three hours before Critch would come!

For one moment Burt felt an insane impulse to rush from the hut and seek the village. The horror of the place rushed over him. The combined odors of the mummy, the burning oil, and the filth on the floor sickened him and he made a step forward. Then he paused abruptly. Critch was counting on him to fulfill his share of the task. His chum was doing his own share--it was no easy matter to face that village of pigmies. Was he to endanger everything at the last moment?

With a little sigh Burt drew back. He settled down among the dry leaves, leaving the light for companions.h.i.+p's sake. As he leaned back his eyes closed and a feeling of delicious rest stole on him, for he was very weary and tired. In another minute he was sound asleep.

He was awakened by something scratching and sniffing at the thatch behind him.

CHAPTER XVII

THE DIARY

Burt leaped away with a yell of pure terror as he woke. He was answered by a deep growl that sent his hair on end with fright. The lion was outside and had smelled him!

There was silence for a moment and then came a scratching at the logs before the entrance. This was succeeded by one angry roar and Burt concluded that the fire outside was still burning. He pulled out his watch with trembling fingers. Three thirty! And the sun did not rise until after four!

A low mutter of growls and a swift pad-pad of feet came to him as the angry and baffled lion ran around the hut. Burt's first spasm of wild, uncontrolled fear gave way to courage born of desperation. There was no place for him to run to. If he did manage to get out he must get past the lion and face the pigmy village. His only hope was to fight off the blind beast until Critch should arrive.

Burt got out his matches and lit all three of the jars of palm oil hurriedly. At the sound of his movements the growls outside increased in fury. Then the soft footfalls ceased and the next instant the whole hut quivered as the paw of the great beast struck it.

The thatch was very closely woven, however. Burt hesitated between using the axe or the oil and finally decided to reserve the former in case the oil failed to drive off the lion. Again and again the beast struck at the side of the hut. The thatch shredded away with a rustle and the hut shook beneath the strain. Then a piece of the wall a foot square came away and into the opening swept a great yellow foot armed with immense claws.

Burt did not hesitate. With a match ready lit he set fire to the oil in one of the jars. It sputtered, then broke into a burst of flame and the boy swiftly flung it at the great paw which was clawing frantically at the side of the opening.

A terrific roar responded, a roar such as the boy had never heard before in all his life. It drove the blood from his cheeks and left him gripping the handle of his axe, but outside he could hear the lion rolling over and cras.h.i.+ng among the long gra.s.s between the hut and the zareba, and he knew that he was the victor for the moment.

Another danger caught his eye and he sprang forward. Whipping off his coat he hastily beat out the flames that were running up the side of the hut from the blazing oil, and scattered dust over the latter with his foot. That frail thatch was his only protection now!

He still had two jars of oil. One he was resolved to keep in case he had to use the little axe. At least he would have the advantage of sight.

His hopes and courage rose somewhat as he listened to the blinded animal thras.h.i.+ng about in the gra.s.s. Then came silence outside.

Burt waited but could hear nothing. "I hope he's run off!" muttered the boy to himself. He hardly dared hope for that, however, and his fears were justified when he heard the swift pad-pad outside again. This time it was faster and heavier. Burt remembered the lions he had seen running like great cats across the plain and his heart leaped as he pictured the look of the animal outside.

Now came a furious attack at the corner of the hut beside him. So sudden and unexpected was it that Burt was caught napping. Before he could strike a match or catch up the pot of oil he was horrified to see a double row of fangs crash through the thatch, followed by a great tawny head. Across the face extended a broad white scar as of an old burn.

With one strangled cry Burt lifted the keen little axe and brought it down in the center of the white scar. He saw a tremendous paw that ripped across his breast and hurled him backward, heard a maddened scream from the beast, and as he fainted his last memory was of the rocking, reeling walls about him.

He woke with the sting of cold water on his face and gasped. His first thought was that the lion was over him, and he struck out blindly and savagely.

"Go slow, old man!" sounded the voice of Critch. Burt looked up and saw the face of his chum. He sank back weakly, while Critch went on bathing his face. "Take it easy, Burt. Don't try to talk yet. Want a drink?"

Burt certainly did want a drink, and he half emptied the canteen of water at a draught, while Critch supported him. Then he struggled to his feet.

"Let's get out o' here," he murmured. A shudder swept over him as he glanced around. There were gaping holes in the thatch walls, and before him was a pool of blood, black against the dirt. The two boys reached the doorway and Burt sank down gratefully in the warm morning sunlight, leaning against the wall of the hut.

"You must have had a fierce time," said Critch sympathetically. "Are you hurt?"

Burt glanced down and shook his head. His s.h.i.+rt had been ripped to pieces by that savage sweep of the lion's paw, but beyond one slight scratch he had escaped damage. He paled again at the narrowness of the escape. Then Critch thrust some roasted bananas into his hand, and the two boys made their breakfast together.

"I feel a heap better now," smiled Burt weakly as he set down the empty canteen at length. "Now we can talk."

"What happened, anyhow?" inquired Critch eagerly. "When I got here five minutes ago you were lyin' on your back. I thought you was dead, sure, when I saw all that blood and the wrecked hut."

Strengthened by his sleep and the food, Burt gradually regained his self-control as he related the story of that terrible night to his chum.

Critch listened with eager interest, then rose and dashed into the hut.

An instant later he reappeared, frowning.

"The axe is gone," he exclaimed excitedly. "Think you killed him?"

"How do I know?" retorted Burt. "I hit him as hard as I could, and I guess it landed between his eyes, but that's all I can tell."

"You must ha' landed pretty hard, then," mused Critch, "judgin' from all that blood. Anyhow, we can follow him up--"

"Do it yourself," broke in Burt. "I know just about how Cap'n Mac felt now. I wouldn't monkey with that lion again for a million dollars cash.

No sir!"

"Well, I will!" cried Critch excitedly. "I can get Mbopo--"

"Oh, how did you come out?" interrupted Burt, with new interest. "I judged from the sounds that it worked all right."

"Work!" laughed Critch. "I should say it did work! Why, I've got the whole blamed tribe eatin' out o' my hand, Burt! Even Mbopo ain't quite sure whether he ought to kow-tow or kneel down when he speaks to me. It was easy!

"After we left here I had a lot of trouble trying to make the other fellows carry that _ankh_. They were scared to death of the thing.

Before we got to the gate I fixed up the procession right. Mbopo went first with the mummy. Then come the two brothers carryin' the _ankh_ between 'em on the spear. I come last with the mummy-case.

"The whole tribe was feasting and dancing and singing when we showed up.

When Mbopo went through the gate and got into the firelight the bunch stopped all of a sudden. Then they saw the two boys with the _ankh_. The tom-toms quit work and everybody went down on their noses. Before they had a chance to look up I fixed things right.