Blind Lion of the Congo

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE SACRED LION

  "Things might be a whole lot worse," said Critch as he stretched outafter the meal. "I'd kind of like a change from roast bananas and beans,though."

  "A little grub cheers a fellow up some, don't it?" returned Burt. "Ihate to think of what's coming to us, though. D'you s'pose they'll brandus?"

  "Search me," yawned Critch. "I reckon Mbopo'll help us if he can. Wejust got to grin and bear it, old sport. Ain't no use whining."

  "Whining yourself, you red-head!" retorted Burt indignantly. "D'youreckon they're toting us for their health? If we could only swipe one ofthose guns and lay out the big lion! Here's Mbopo."

  The pigmy approached and squatted down before them with a smile. Hisface was intelligent and well-formed. He had a row of cicatrices downeach cheek like his fellows and wore a leopard skin hung across hisshoulders.

  "Mbopo help," he asserted. "How Buburika?"

  "Him good," replied Critch. "Good name for Cap'n Mac, ain't it, Burt?What are your people going to do with us, Mbopo?"

  "White boys ju-ju," replied Mbopo. "Give Pongo."

  "Is that the lion Buburika laid out?" exclaimed Burt. The pigmy lookedblank and Burt repeated his question.

  "Him lion," nodded the other. "Maybe him scared you too. Him scaredwhite skin. Scared Buburika. What? Mbopo help. Aye, vera good."

  The concluding words sent a twinkle into the boys' eyes but they werecareful not to laugh. The very tone was an exact imitation of Montenay'svoice.

  "You bet that's good," replied Critch. "Can you get one o' them bangbangs? Guns?" He made the motion of shooting but Mbopo shook his headdecisively.

  "No got. Him stay here." The pigmy pointed to the chief's hut. "Come.We go. No fash yerself--Mbopo help!"

  Barely able to repress their laughter at the comical imitation ofCaptain Mac, the boys rose and Mbopo patted their hands encouragingly.He clicked and his men appeared from different directions. The boys sawthat their guns were left behind.

  "That don't look encouraging--" began Critch but Mbopo stopped him witha warning "no talkee" and the march was again taken up through thejungle. A number of black dwarfs accompanied them this time and the boyswere amazed at the agility with which the little men swung through thetrees or cleared a path through the jungle growths. They seemedperfectly confident that their captives would not try to escape. Bothboys realized how useless it would be and had not even discussed theidea.

  At nightfall they halted in a third Wambuti village. On the way theparty of hunters with them brought in a wart hog and a small gazelle. Onthese the village feasted that night. There were no more bananas orplantains but plenty of the ground beans and some manioc and nuts likechestnuts which the pigmies ate voraciously but which did not appeal tothe boys.

  They were left unguarded that night and tried to sleep in the openbeside a fire. The insects proved too much for them, however, and theywere glad to seek the shelter of a hut, cramped as it was. As theirbelongings had not been taken, with the exception of their weapons,Critch still had his compass. That evening they discussed the course oftheir march and agreed that it had been north by east.

  "I've been watching the needle," said Critch. "We came north yesterdayfrom the camp. To-day we've been traveling a little east of north.Golly, I'm tired! Guess we can't bank on your uncle finding us now."

  "Guess not," agreed Burt hopelessly. "We only got one chance of evergetting out of this mess, Critch. If we can do what Cap'n Mac did we maywork it."

  "We got Mbopo to help," returned Critch. "I ain't looking forward togetting branded very eager. We got to get around that part of it, Burt."

  "Don't see how," answered Burt. "It don't look like Cap'n Mac hurt oldPongo very much with his blazing oil. We ain't got a gun either. If weknew any conjuring tricks we might make a bluff on Mbopo's people."

  "I can pull a coin out of handkerchiefs," grinned Critch. "But we ain'tgot a coin and if we don't keep our hankies tied on our hands we'd beeaten alive. Try again."

  "An electric battery'd be the stunt," said Burt. "Fellows in booksalways have batteries handy, or eclipses, or something. Guess we ain'tlucky. What d'you s'pose Cap'n Mac would do if he was here?"

  "Prob'ly tell you to shut your head and go to sleep while you can,"grunted Critch. Burt accepted the advice.

  They set out again in the morning and still traveled north by east.Mbopo said little to them that day. Instead of stopping at a villagethey camped out at noon and made a meagre meal of nuts and wildplantains. They were getting into higher country now although it wasstill jungle. The black hunters had not accompanied them and the sixwhite pigmies were the sole guardians of the boys. At evening there wasno sign of a village and when one of the men brought in another smallwart hog the rest scattered and collected more wild nuts and berries.

  They camped that night in the center of a ring of fires. These smudgesprotected them somewhat from the clouds of insects, but neverthelessboth boys suffered a great deal. Their mosquito nets were badly torn andtheir camphor was all gone by this time. Although the pigmies did notseem to mind the mosquitoes, they were very careful to avoid the hangingnests of the trumpet ants and the black wasps while passing through thejungle.

  The next morning there was still the same desolate silence all aboutthem as they marched on. Mbopo had said nothing the night before and theboys had been too dead tired to ask any questions. Toward noon they bothnoticed that their captors became more careless about keeping watch. Theboys were nearly worn out by the terrible journey, but Mbopo pushedforward relentlessly. As the shadows lengthened the boys saw the reasonfor this.

  They had left the lower and denser jungle behind, and seemed to beslowly reaching higher and freer ground. There was no restriction ontheir talking now, and as the sun touched the tips of the trees in thewest Critch gave an exclamation.

  "Look over there ahead, Burt! That's a river, sure's you're born!"

  "Mebbe it's the same one Cap'n Mac told about," returned his chum,catching sight of the silver thread that was partially hidden by thetrees. At the name, Mbopo turned around with a cheerful grin and fellback to their side.

  "Mbopo help," he asserted again. "No fash yerself, lad."

  "Thanks, old man," exclaimed Burt. "Is the village near?"

  "Pongo," nodded the dwarf, and Burt gave up trying to talk to him.

  Now two of the men darted ahead at a fast run. For another half milethey advanced along the river bank. Then the forest ended suddenly.

  "Here we are!" cried Critch.

  Before them lay a small yam-field, and beyond that the famous village ofthe white dwarfs. As Captain Montenay had said, it was a very largeone. Despite their plight, the boys looked eagerly for the hut of Pongo.

  "There she is!" exclaimed Burt, and Critch also gave a cry. Off to theirleft, almost at the edge of the trees and some distance from the villagethorn-zareba, stood a large hut surrounded by something dark gray in thesunset. Their attention was soon drawn away from this, however, for aseries of yells went up from the village and out poured the tribe towelcome them.

  As nearly as the boys could guess, there were something like threehundred warriors gathered about the gate of the zareba as they came up.Mbopo saluted them with a few words, but his little party held togetherand pushed through the crowd. Behind the warriors and inside the zarebawas a still larger assemblage of women and children. As they passed thegateway, the boys found themselves in the presence of the chief, nodoubt the same whom Montenay so disliked, for he was an old andshriveled man whose countenance boded ill for the two captive youths.

  Clad in a splendid leopard-skin robe, he was seated on a pile of skins.Ranged behind him was a rank of picked spearmen, larger than most oftheir fellows, and at one side were a dozen men with tom-toms made ofhollow logs. As the party came in sight these men began beating theirinstruments, sending up a roaring clamor that amazed the two boys.

  Mbopo fell on his face before the chief, and the others of the partyafter him. Onl
y the two white boys remained erect, facing the glitteringeyes of the old chief while he listened to Mbopo's recital. At itsconclusion he motioned to the latter to rise, and said a few words. Theyoung dwarf replied and seemed to be expostulating, but the chief sprangto his feet in a flame of rage. Raising his arm, he pointed toward theseparate hut, and both boys distinctly caught the one word "Pongo." At asharp command Mbopo and another dwarf jerked the boys and led them awayto one of the huts, leaving them inside without a word.

  "Well," said Burt throwing himself down with a sigh of relief on someskins, "the old boy certainly has it in for us. He ain't exactly a nicespecimen, is he?"

  "Not much," ejaculated Critch. "Anyhow, I'm going to sleep, Burt. I'mtoo tired to care what happens."

  Burt stretched out likewise and immediately was lost in slumber. Theday's trip had been a hard one indeed, and neither boy was able toresist the chance to snatch a little rest. When they awoke they were indarkness, and the voice of Mbopo was in their ears.

  "All right," grumbled Critch. "Quit shaking me. What's up?"

  "Him eat, vera good," came Mbopo's voice. Growing accustomed to thedarkness, the boys found that a faint light flickered in through theentrance. By this they saw the form of Mbopo. He gave them some roastedbananas and a gourd containing a sweetish drink made from the banana.Burt got out his matches and struck a light, by which they found it wasnearly eight o'clock. They had been sleeping only three hours, but eventhat small amount of rest had refreshed them wonderfully, and the foodand drink made new boys of them.

  When they had finished the last scrap, Mbopo motioned them to rise. Burtdid so with a groan, for his muscles were stiff and sore, and a momentlater they were outside. Here they could see a number of fires blazingin a vacant space near the thorn zareba, and toward this Mbopo led them.

  "Mbopo help," was his only speech. "Him lad kill Pongo mebbe. Him dolike Buburika Mac."

  "Don't see how," grunted Burt.

  "Shut up," ordered Critch. "Our friend's got a notion in his head thatwe're here to kill the lion, I'll bet a dollar. Say, going to stand forthat branding stunt?"

  "Not if I know it," came the quick response. "S'pose we can't helpourselves, though. See what turns up."

  "No talkee," cautioned their guide. They drew near the fires, and sawthat the whole tribe was gathered around in a semicircle, enjoying ahuge feast. In the center of this semicircle, not far from the thornwall, the old chief reclined on his throne of rugs, the tom-tom beatersnear him. Mbopo, who plainly stood in great awe of the wizenedpotentate, fell on his face in salute. Once more the boys calmly met theevil black eyes that stared at them, and Burt could see small hope inthe malevolent glare of the chief.

  After a few murmured words from Mbopo the chief gave a sharp order. Adozen feet distant stood a small fire, over which hung some meat onspits. This was removed, and a warrior brought forward a long thinobject that sent a thrill through Burt. It was a rudely-fashionedbranding iron.

  The warrior thrust one end into the fire. Burt moved closer to his chum,with fists clenched. He knew well how useless it would be to put up anyfight, but he was determined not to give in to the torture without astruggle. The old chief smiled slightly at the action, and gave amotion. Four of the little warriors, only reaching to the shoulder ofthe boys, stepped forward with axes ready.

  "No use, old man," said Critch quietly. "We'll have to take ourmedicine, I guess."

  The four warriors led the boys to the fire. One of them reached up anddeliberately tore Burt's tattered shirt from his shoulder. Thepale-faced boy made no move to resist, and next moment the white-hotiron was taken from the fire, and the tom-toms rolled forth theirthunder.

  But at that instant even the noise of the great drums was drowned in anappalling roar that turned the eyes of all upon the thorn wall. Thestartled boys saw the latter bend, there came another terrific roar,then the stout thorn zareba was burst apart and into the enclosurerolled the form of an immense lion!

  Before a move could be made the cat-like animal regained his feet, gaveone quick sniff of the air, and pounced on the old chief, who wasstruggling to rise. To the surprise of the boys the crowd fellprostrate; a murmur of "Pongo! Pongo!" went up, and a moment later thelion gave one bound and had vanished in the night, unharmed. And withhim went the chief of the white dwarfs.