The Blind Lion of the Congo Part 23

"I had Mbopo stand on that pile of skins. The _ankh_ and mummy-case were set down right in front of him. I stood alongside him and took old Ta-En-User, setting him on his feet natural-like. About half the crowd was looking up by this time. They couldn't understand what was up till I nodded to Mbopo and he began to speak.

"Well, sir, he hadn't said more'n about ten words, pointing to the _ankh_ and the mummy, before them dwarfs let a howl out of 'em like they were all struck by lightning."

"Yes," broke in Burt, "I heard that. It sure sounded awful."

"I reckon they _felt_ kind of awful," grinned Critch contentedly. "I was scared stiff at first, honest. It seemed so blamed foolish, Burt, to trot out a mummy and a hunk of gold and set up as a G.o.d on the strength of it! I soon got over being scared, though. I could be chief o' that tribe right now if I wanted to!

"Mbopo went on explaining how you happened to be all dried up that way.

The crowd turned several degrees whiter while he was talking. It made me feel pretty mean for a minute to think o' them grown men an' women knuckling down that way to me. Then I got another idea.

"I set Ta down gentle and reached out for Mbopo's hand. It scared him, but he was game. I led him forward a step, then picked up the _ankh_ an'

stood it on end. When I took Mbopo's hand again his knees were shaking, but I grinned at him and placed his hand on the loop. When he found that nothing happened he just swelled up, an' looked at me so grateful and plumb happy that I couldn't keep from laughing. The crowd stared, but when they saw Mbopo standing there proud and confident, they hollered out their kind o' cheer--two sharp little barks."

"Heard that too," nodded Burt. "Whew, I'd like to have seen all that, Critch! But didn't you get any sleep at all?"

"You bet I did!" was the reply. "Just as soon as I got things settled that way Mbopo made another speech. Then I got him to understand that I wanted some place to sleep. He had a fellow take me to an elegant big hut. There were lots of skins and stuff in there and I went to sleep right off. I was pretty near dead. I woke up at sunrise and got some bananas and water and came over here. That's all, I guess."

"Well, when are you going to resurrect me?" asked Burt. "I'm not going to hang around here, I can tell you."

"You got to," replied his chum earnestly. "If you showed up now it'd spoil the whole thing, Burt! You can stay out here in the shade, can't you? The zareba hides you from the village, as long as you keep away from the entrance."

"All right." Burt struggled to his feet, himself again. "Let's have a look at that zareba, Critch."

The two boys walked across the little open s.p.a.ce and halted in front of the row of tusks. Strands of thorn-bush were interwoven among the tusks, which were planted closely in the ground, but the zareba was so low that the lion would have had no difficulty in leaping over it. It was evidently intended more for show than for defence.

"Those tusks don't look as if they were worth taking away," said Burt disgustedly. "Look at how old they are, and all cracked up!"

Indeed, the tusks seemed very ancient. Their surface was not the smooth, white surface of new ivory but was gray and rough and pitted with holes worn by the weather and insects.

"They must have been here for a long time," agreed Critch. "But I don't know 'bout their not being worth taking off, Burt. You know when your uncle swapped Mvita for those old tusks o' his? They looked just like these, and your uncle isn't buying old tusks for his health. Besides, Cap'n Mac was crazy about these. If they hadn't been worth while he wouldn't--"

"That's so," exclaimed Burt more hopefully. "Prob'ly they're all right on the inside. We're liable to make some money out o' this trip yet."

"You talk just's if we had it cinched!" laughed his chum. "Say, take some thorns and pin your s.h.i.+rt together. I got to get back to the village now. I'm going to bring out some weapons and some more grub, but I want to make sure that everything's safe. I'll have to warn Mbopo not to come near here, too. I guess we can fix things up to resurrect you by to-night, anyhow."

"You'd better," returned Burt, fastening his tattered s.h.i.+rt together after Critch's suggestion. "I'm not going to stay here another night, that's straight. Why don't you get Mbopo out after Pongo with some of the men?"

"Not yet," answered Critch thoughtfully. "I want to finish up your business first. That'll tie everything down tight. Then we can get busy with the lion. I believe we'll pull out of this yet, Burt!"

"Sure we will," laughed Burt, his spirits fully restored by this time.

"I'm going to get some more sleep here in the shade. Better go easy with Mbopo. If he gets a swelled head he might make trouble."

"No chance of that," replied Critch, pausing at the gateway. "He's a mighty good scout. Well, so long! Anything special you want?"

"Oh, nothin but a two-inch steak, a couple o' books, and a letter from back home," replied Burt. "So long!" And as his chum disappeared he flung himself down in the long gra.s.s under the hut wall, whose shadow would protect him from the sun. He had come to care little for insects by this time, and in any case he was too weary to think about them.

When he next opened his eyes the sun was in the west and Critch was shaking him vigorously. Burt sat up, yawning, to find his chum highly excited. Beside them lay a collection of axes, swords, knives and spears.

"Wake up, you!" cried Critch. "I got pretty near everything you asked for."

"You got what?" said Burt sleepily, staring at his chum. Then he remembered his parting words and laughed as Critch displayed a thick antelope-steak, a couple of baked yams and the refilled canteen.

"I got more than that," exclaimed Critch. "I found a kid playing with something a while ago. Come to find out, it was this," and he threw the remains of a little red leather book into Burt's lap. The latter, who had already attacked the steak with the help of one of the knives, picked it up with interest.

The little book drew a gasp of amazement from Burt when he opened it, for on the inside cover was inscribed, in small and neat writing, "McAllister Montenay, V. C. His Diary."

"Is that straight?" asked Burt, looking up with flushed cheeks. Critch nodded.

"You bet it is. Get finished with the eats, while I tell you. I saw a kid trailin' that around in the dust, so I rescued it and took a look.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw what it was!

There's a whole lot of it that you can't make out, but enough's left to do business with.

"Everything's lovely at the village. Some hunters brought in three wildebeest and an antelope this morning and the whole tribe's feasting up. That seems to be about all they do."

Burt was not long in disposing of the provisions. After emptying the canteen, he picked up the little tattered red book once more and opened it, Critch close beside him.

CHAPTER XVIII

BURT COMES TO LIFE

"Didn't know he was a V. C.," commented Burt, turning past the first page. "Say most o' this is spoiled!"

The pages were many of them torn, all were smudged and streaked with dirt, and ominous dark red stains covered a large portion of the booklet.

"Here's the first place you can read," and Critch turned over a number of unreadable pages. "Start in right here." Burt settled back and read aloud as follows:

"'June 1st. Five men down. Yusuf cut off from supplies. Will rush to-morrow.

"'June 2nd. Rushed. Lost thirteen. Finished Yusuf. Got lots of ivory, unmounted yet. Read burial service this evening. Big loot to divide.'"

"That next you can't read, most of it," broke in Critch. "There's something about Pongo, though." Burt nodded and continued:

"'--with odd bit of wood. May be some truth in it. Must investigate.

If the boys will have a go at it--'

"That's all, there," announced Burt. "All that's about the time he cleaned up on the Arab caravan, eh? Let's see--there's five pages where everything's mussed up."

"Looks like blood," laughed Critch, "but it ain't. That's the red stuff the dwarfs use to stain their things with. See here, on this spear-shaft. There's a lot comes next that he wrote after he set up in Pongo's place--it was his left arm that was hurt, so he could write all right. But you can't make out more'n a few scattered words. Turn to the last page that's written on. There's where the big thing is."

Burt obeyed, turning over the pages rapidly. Most of the writing had been obliterated or stained over, but although the final page was half torn away, the remaining words were clear and legible.

"'Dec. 16th. Impossible to carry off the stuff. Must slip away while out hunting if possible. Not much hope. River runs northwest. May find Arabs or English traders to the east or north. Will find from Mbopo whether--'

"And that's all," announced Burt, looking puzzled. "I don't see what you mean by sayin' there's anything big there, though."