Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER X

  The Land of the Pigmies

  Slow Progress--Forest Life--Hunger--Overtures--A Change of Diet--InStraits--A Man Hunt--At Bay

  Tom awoke when the darkness was fading, and a ghostly light showed himthe still sleeping form of Mbutu hard by.

  "Wake up, my katikiro," he said cheerily. "I shall have to teach youthose lines about the sluggard, my boy. Come, what about breakfast?"

  Mbutu was wide awake in an instant. He slid down the tree with theagility of a cat.

  "Me get breakfast, sah," he said, "jolly good breakfast."

  He was out of sight before Tom, in a more leisurely way, had descended.Soon the Muhima returned, his arms full of magnificent mushrooms. Heput them down at the foot of the tree and disappeared again, this timeremaining somewhat longer away, and bringing back with him some redberries of the phrynia and the oblong fruit of the amoma. Tom made awry face as he bit one of the berries, and Mbutu laughed and explainedthat the kernel was the edible part; but he found the tartish amomafruit refreshing, and of these and the mushrooms, fried over a twigfire, he made a satisfying meal. Then they started on their way, takingtheir direction from the rising sun, of which they caught a glimpsethrough the trees.

  But soon the sun was hidden from their view, and they had to tunneltheir way through creepers, rubber-plants, and tangled vines. The heatwas like the damp heat of a hot-house many times intensified, and theysweated till they were wringing wet. Sometimes they floundered intothick scum-faced quagmires green with duckweed, into which they sankknee-deep, the stench exhaled from the slough almost overcoming Tom.Then came a new patch of thorn, which Mbutu had to cut away laboriouslywith his knife, Tom standing by chafing at his inability to assist.When they got through, after taking more than an hour to traverse half amile, their clothes were in tatters, and Tom's rueful look provoked asmile from Mbutu.

  "Soon get used to it, sah," he said cheerfully. "No clothes; all samefor one."

  "Which means, I suppose, that I'm only very much in the forest fashion!Well, it's hot enough for anything; certainly too hot to talk. Let usrest."

  "Berrah soon, sah. I see coney track; rest ober dar."

  Following up the slight track which his sharp eyes had discovered, heled the way to a spot where a camp had evidently been formed not verylong before. The ground was cleared, and several logs of variouslengths lay about. On one of these Tom sat down thankfully to rest.

  "It's time for dinner, I'm sure. I'd give anything for a glass ofcider, but, as that's out of the question, can you find me some wateranywhere, Mbutu?"

  "Oh yes, sah; camp here, must be water."

  He went into the undergrowth, and returned by and by with a broad leafof the phrynia held cup-shape in his hands, brimming with deliciouswater from a rivulet. After quenching their thirst and eating a fewberries they went on again.

  Marching began to be monotonous. There was little variety. Sometimesthey crossed the track of an elephant or a buffalo; once they came upona stretch of fifty yards of flattened undergrowth exhaling an unpleasantmusky smell, and Mbutu explained that that was the trail of aboa-constrictor. Later they crossed a track evidently made by humanfootsteps, and once Tom was only saved from falling into a deepelephant-pit by Mbutu snatching at him as he trod at the edge. Alwaysthere was the bush to be penetrated; colossal trees to be avoided;riotous creepers to be dodged; and Tom was very glad when night came andMbutu found him a hollow tree to sleep in.

  On this night the parts were reversed, for while Tom fell into a soundsleep at once, Mbutu sat up, watchful and anxious. He had beendisturbed by the sight of leopard scratches on the trunks of teak, andas a measure of precaution had borrowed his master's box of matches andkindled a fire--a slow process with the damp wood. But he was stillmore disturbed by the scarcity of food. He had noticed during theirlast hour's walk the almost complete absence of the edible plants onwhich they had fed hitherto, and he feared that they might have reachedone of those regions of the forest where food, except wild animals to behunted, is unprocurable. Before he at last closed his eyes he tore astrip off the burnous girt about his loins, and contrived to make withit a running noose, which he hung a foot or two above the ground upon aspray of thorn. This was a simple snare into which he hoped that aconey or some other small animal might run its neck before morning. Butwhen the dawn broke, the noose was still hanging empty, and Mbutu, aftera scrutiny of the bush, announced that his master would have to dispensewith breakfast. Tom took the news lightly, in order not to discouragehis companion.

  "Cheer up!" he said. "It won't be the first time I've been for a trampbefore breakfast. There's plenty of dew, I see, so that we can have adrink, and perhaps by the time we're sharp-set we shall be in the landof plenty."

  So they started cheerfully enough, making still towards the south-west.But Tom's confidence proved to be not justified. The character of thevegetation had somewhat changed. It grew as thick as ever, but whilemany of the plants bore attractive-looking berries, Mbutu informed hismaster that they were all poisonous. They did come upon a mass of wildbananas, but only the cultivated fruit is eatable. Even when theyreached what had once been a clearing, where a grove of plantains mighthave been expected, they found that elephants had been running riot, andthe vegetation there was trampled into a pulp. Once Mbutu uttered a cryof joy on catching sight of a small arum bush; he sprang forward, dug upthe roots with his knife, slit them into slices, and roasted them over afire. That was all the food they obtained that day. It had been veryhot, the air had seemed almost solid, and the foetid exhalations fromthe soft places they had passed made Tom feel sick and disconsolate.

  When they stopped for the night, Mbutu again lit a watch-fire, and sethis noose. In the morning he was wakened by a faint cry, and, springingup, he saw that a coney had been caught in the snare, and had at thatmoment been pounced on by a wild cat. He was too hungry to allowhimself to be forestalled. He picked up his knife and made for the cat,which turned its head without relaxing its hold, and showed its teeth asthough inclined to fight. But when Mbutu was almost upon it, with anangry snarl it loosed its prey and sprang up into a tree. The coney wasalready dead, its neck broken by the cat's fierce onslaught. Mbutu hadthe animal half-skinned when his master awoke.

  "What are you about?" cried Tom, horrified at seeing Mbutu lifting apiece of raw flesh to his mouth.

  "Hungry, sah; coney berrah good."

  "But you can't eat it raw, surely! Ugh! you'll make me sick."

  Mbutu put down the morsel with a look in which mingled emotions wereexpressed.

  "Make fire in two ticks," he said resignedly, a phrase he had heard Tomuse; and in a short time he was toasting some steaks at the fire, whilehis master searched for fruit. He found a few berries, and both he andMbutu ate their meal ravenously, feeling still hungry when they hadfinished.

  The fourth day of their forest march was but a repetition of the third.They found almost nothing eatable, and even good water was scarcer thanon the previous day. At one point a huge puff-adder lay coiled in theirpath, and Mbutu wished to kill it, assuring his master that the reptilewas too sluggish to defend itself. But Tom shuddered, and bade him comeaway. Later in the day Mbutu suddenly flung his knife at a tawnycreature with black spots and a long, striped, bushy tail--a genet cat,as Tom afterwards discovered,--but the weapon missed by barely an inch.That was the last chance they had that day of securing animal food, andthey had to content themselves with a few dry and unpalatable, thoughperfectly wholesome, roots, which Mbutu grubbed up, and the leaves ofherbs growing low.

  Both the travellers had spoken jestingly of their hunger, for each wasunwilling to depress the other; but it was a hollow pretence. Both, butTom more especially, were already feeling the weakening effects ofprivation.

  Before they settled for the night, Tom thought it well to speak plainlyto Mbutu. His own uneasiness was deepened by his feeling ofresponsibility for the b
oy.

  "Mbutu," he said gravely, "if we do not find food to-morrow we shallbegin to starve. I don't know what starvation means; it is toohorrible, almost, to think of. Yet we must face the possibility. Now,I brought you into this, and it isn't fair that you should come to harmon my account. If we find no food to-morrow, I think you had better goon without me. You can make your way more easily than I, and if youcome to a village and get food you can bring me some; if not, go on; itis better for one to starve than two."

  "No! no! no!" said Mbutu vehemently; "sah fader and mudder. Food comeby and by; no die dis time."

  But the poor boy, when his master had fallen asleep, looked anxiously athis pinched face. The cheeks were thinned and drawn, there were darksunken patches below the eyes, and his tall frame seemed even taller andthinner. Ever since the young Englishman had saved him from De Castro'swhip, Mbutu had cherished a sentiment of absolute devotion for him, onlyintensified by the hazards of their later adventures. He would have laiddown his life for him, and indeed, though Tom had not noticed it, theboy had already stinted himself even of the little food he had obtained."My master is much bigger than I," was his half-formed thought, "andneeds more to keep his strength up."

  The morning of their fifth day in the forest broke dull and depressing.Huge blankets of mist clothed tree and shrub, and a light breeze set upstrange cross currents which rolled great white billows one againstanother, swirling and eddying, twisting and twining like animate things.Tom shivered as he awoke; the violent changes of temperature had madehim somewhat feverish, and his sunken eyes, unnaturally bright, seemedfor a moment to gaze out vacantly upon the encircling walls of mistygreen. His limbs ached, and he got up stiffly. Mbutu was not in sight,but returned presently, bringing with him some cassava tubers and arumroots which he cooked for his master's breakfast. Tom found itdifficult to eat them. He smiled a weary smile.

  "We shall have to tighten our belts to-day, Mbutu," he said. "Did youever hear of that? Twist your burnous more tightly round your loins andyou won't feel the pain so much. And we must be careful of our matches,too. The box is half-empty and we can't get any more."

  "Make fire with wood, sah," said Mbutu.

  "But wouldn't that be difficult with the damp stuff around us? We mustkeep up our courage and get on. We can't tell the way till the sun isup, and indeed I'm afraid we shall never see the sun in this thickforest."

  "Me climb tree, sah; see sun den."

  Mbutu began to clamber up into the foliage, and springing dexterouslyfrom branch to branch ascended to the top, where, a hundred and fiftyfeet from the ground, above the rolling banks of mist, he caught sightof the red sun rising above the limitless expanse of waving green.Descending rapidly, he told his master he was now sure of the directionin which they should go, and before seven o'clock they had begun againtheir painful march.

  Tom had to stop frequently to rest. The gnawing pains of hunger toldmore seriously upon him than upon the Muhima, for his life for the pastthree weeks had been more than hard, making unaccustomed demands uponhis strength. He still felt the effects of his wound. They found a fewberries and edible roots, and if such supplies, meagre as they were,continued, Tom hoped to stave off actual starvation.

  "Surely we shall come to a native village by and by," he said hopefully."Even the pigmies might take pity on starving men."

  But Mbutu shook his head; he had no faith in the compassion orgenerosity of pigmies; he knew of them only as dangerous foes. In theafternoon they reached a spot where the ground began to slope downwards,and the vegetation appeared still thicker and more entangled.

  "Coming to ribber, sah," said Mbutu eagerly. "Perhaps huts; perhapscatch fish."

  Fifteen minutes later, in truth, they came suddenly to the brink of ariver, through a hedge of creeping-plants covering every inch of groundfrom the water's edge to the green-black forest behind. The current wasfairly strong, and the water was tea-coloured, suggesting iron insolution, swirling with dingy froth around a few boulders that stood outabove the surface here and there. Mbutu, scanning the opposite bank,uttered a cry of joy. The stream was some fifty yards wide, and on theother side there was a narrow rift in the vegetation, so narrow indeedthat Tom did not discern it until it was pointed out to him.

  "Path, sah!" said Mbutu. "'Spect huts ober dar. Huts, food. Plentyfood, oh yes!"

  They sat down for a few moments to rest on a rock at the edge of thestream, gazing in silence at the gurgling water. Suddenly Mbutu twitchedhis master's sleeve and pointed to the farther bank. Just emerging fromthe leafy hedge, through the narrow opening, was a diminutive andgraceful little woman, copper-coloured, with raven-black hair, a broadround face, and full lustrous eyes. Three iron rings were coiledspiral-shaped about her neck. She was crooning happily to a tiny brownchild toddling by her side, and on her head a small pitcher was cleverlybalanced. She came down to the water's edge and stooped to fill herpitcher, still chanting softly a quaint song that Tom thoughtwonderfully pretty. Her boy leant over the water in comical mimicry ofhis mother.

  "Bambute woman, sah," whispered Mbutu.

  Low as the words were uttered, the channel between the high banks actedas a sound-board, and the sharp ears of the little woman heard them.She looked up, gave a startled cry, and stepped back. At the sameinstant the tiny fellow, alarmed by his mother's cry, lost his balanceand toppled over into the water. The stream there was deep, flowing instrong and steady current. For one brief moment the mother seemeddazed, and Tom looked at the little brown bundle floating down stream asat some picture, not an actual thing at all. Then the woman screamed,dropped her pitcher, and forced her way along the bank, wringing herhands and moaning pitifully as she saw the stream bearing her little sonaway.

  "She can't swim!" cried Tom, realizing the situation.

  He sprang up, leapt on to the first boulder, then to the second twoyards from it to the left, and took a header into deep water.Excitement lent him strength; he forgot where he was, forgot all hislate sufferings, forgot the danger of chill and crocodiles; all that hesaw was the drowning child, all that he thought of was his duty to saveit. He struck out energetically, the current assisting him. As yet thestream had borne the child along upon its surface, but just as Tomarrived within a dozen yards of him he sank, and the mother'sheart-broken cry echoed from the forest. Tom quickened his stroke, and,gathering his breath, dived just beyond the spot where he had last seenthe brown body. It was difficult to make out anything in thetan-coloured water, but he fancied he saw the little black head, threwout his right hand, caught a foot, and in a few seconds was safe at thesurface again, the boy in his grasp.

  By this time Mbutu had reached his master's side. He relieved him ofthe burden, and together they swam to the shore, where Tom turned thepigmy urchin on his face and slapped his back and worked his arms abouttill the little fellow recovered his breath. A lusty cry soonproclaimed that there was vigorous life in the tiny body. Then theycarried him with some difficulty along the steep bank to the path bywhich he had come from the forest. They caught sight of his motherdarting like a timid gazelle among the trees. Mbutu at Tom's commandcalled to her to come and fetch her pickin, using all the dialects heknew; she stopped and faced the strangers again, but evidentlyunderstood nothing of what the Muhima said, and was too much scared toapproach them. In spite of his exhaustion, Tom could not help smilingat the woman's fears.

  "Put the little beggar down," he said, "and see him run."

  "Want food, sah," expostulated Mbutu; "woman gib food."

  "But she wants her baby first; perhaps she thinks we are cannibals, andmean to make a meal of both of them."

  Mbutu shrugged, and set the boy, now fully recovered and crying lustily,upon his feet. Instantly he scampered off with wild delight to hismother. She snatched him up, smothered him with kisses, then threw himover her back and ran fleetly into the forest. In vain Mbutu called toher to bring food, shouting that the big white man would give hisbuttons, his coat, anything, fo
r a chicken and some plantains. Hisvoice only made her run the faster, and soon a turn in the narrow pathconcealed her altogether from view.

  "We'd better go along the path after her," said Tom. "There must be apigmy village somewhere near, and they're surely human enough to give usfood."

  Mbutu shook his head.

  "Bambute much bad people," he said. "See white man; no fink; shoot one,two, three; sah dead."

  "But we saved the youngster."

  "Bambute no stop fink. Woman say big sah, berrah big; Bambute no wait;all come in one big hurry, shoot sah. Better go away too quick."

  "Well, you ought to know them better than I." (He suddenly, in one ofthose odd flashes of memory that come at the most unlikely moments,remembered Mr. Barkworth's positive statement: "There's no gratitude inthese natives!") "Let us go, then; lead the way."

  They scrambled along the bank, stumbling over rocks and projectingthorn-sprays, Mbutu urging his master to hurry, lest the whole pigmyvillage should come hot-foot at their heels. It seemed strange to Tomthat the little people should feel animosity against inoffensivetravellers who had actually done them a service, but he relied upon hisboy, in whom he had seen no signs of cowardice. The fact was that Mbutuhad never before actually come into contact with the pigmies, and knewthem only by hearsay. He had a child's dread of the unknown, and thestories he had heard prompted him to keep as far as possible out ofharm's way.

  Tom's exertions, acting on his enfeebled frame, had worn him out, andbut for Mbutu's entreaties he would have refused to budge. His clotheswere drying in the sunlight, but he was chilled to the bone, andterribly hungry. Mbutu insisted that they ought to hide their trail bywading in the stream where it was shallow enough, and thus, alternatelyon land and in water, they covered rather more than three miles. ThenTom declared that he could go no farther, and sat down upon a dry rockto rest, while Mbutu scrambled up the bank and into the forest in searchof food. He brought back a handful of papaws and amoma fruits.

  "Why, this is quite luxurious!" said Tom, delighted at getting a changefrom the disagreeable roots on which he had subsisted for the past fewdays.

  "Sah wait bit," said Mbutu with a knowing smile. He waded out to alarge rock in mid-stream, threw himself flat upon it, and peered overinto the water. A few moments passed; then Tom saw the boy's knifeflash as he plunged his arm into the water. He drew it up, and therewas a fine fish, somewhat resembling a trout, gleaming on the point. Helooked round triumphantly at Tom; then bent once more over the water,and soon speared another fish in the same way. When he had caught fourhe returned to the bank, and asked his master for the box of matches.

  "Why, they're soaked; absolutely useless, Mbutu. You'll have to makefire some other way."

  Mbutu at once cut a small block of hard wood from a tree, and scoopedout a little hollow in it. Then he found a thin straight switch, andsharpened 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 ofpractice, and looked rather blue when no fire came; but, persevering, hesucceeded after some minutes in kindling a spark. He then lit a fire,slit and cleaned the fish, and had the delight of offering his mastersome appetizing broiled fish-steaks. Not content with this, he returnedto the rock, rapidly captured half a dozen more fish, and then, throwingon to the fire the leaves of plants that made a thick smoke, heattempted a rough-and-ready process of dry-curing. This done, hesearched about till he found a thin and flexible tendril, on which hestrung the dried fish, declaring gleefully that his master wouldcertainly have a good breakfast next day.

  There being still two hours or more of daylight left, as they judged bythe position of the sun, they walked on again, feeling refreshed inbody, and more cheerful in mind than they had been for a week. Theystill clung to the edge of the stream, and at one point narrowly escapedtreading on a crocodile basking by the bank, where it wasindistinguishable from a log of wood. Mbutu was only warned of thedanger by a sudden startling flash of light. Jumping back, he pointedout that the glare was the reflection of the sun in the saurian's greedyeye. By and by they came to a tributary flowing into the river on theright hand. It was a fairly large stream, about thirty yards broad atthe point of ingress, and as its course was from the south-east, Tomdecided to turn and follow it up. While tramping below the left bank,which was high and steep, and finding the walking rather easier than ithad been hitherto, the ground being rocky, they came to a deep inlet, atthe bottom of which there was a cavern; half-hidden by vine-spraystrailing over the bank.

  "The very place for our night's rest," said Tom.

  They entered, strewed leaves and grass on the smooth dry floor, andslept soundly till daybreak. Though his limbs ached when he rose, andhe was still feverish, Tom felt better than on the previous day, and ateheartily of the broiled fish and roots which Mbutu had prepared for him.Then, leaving the cave, they walked for about half a mile, and foundthat 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 certainlybe ranging the country in that direction; there was nothing for it butto strike into the forest again, and pursue their journey to the southor south-west.

  Tom was not reassured by the aspect of the forest. While there was lessof tangled undergrowth and thorn, the trees appeared to be thicker andlarger than ever. There was no sign of edible plants, but the animalswere even more numerous, and the insects more multitudinous andirritating. As they crossed a babbling rivulet, apparently a tributaryof the stream they had recently left, they were met by a cloud of mothsreaching 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 thecourse of the streamlet. Farther on, a dozen tree stems, thrown downduring a recent storm, lay across one another at various angles,completely blocking the way, and the travellers found that the easiestmode of proceeding was to clamber up one of them that sloped at an angleof forty-five degrees, and to scramble thence on to another, and then toanother sloping downwards, until they reached terra firma again. Theirprogress was terribly slow and arduous, and long before the mid-day heatrendered rest imperative, Tom felt thoroughly exhausted. His clotheswere now a miscellany of rags, his boots mere gaps. He noticed whatappeared to be ulcers breaking out upon his arms, and found that theexertion of walking and climbing made him faint, and produced a keenpain in his chest. He had had nothing to eat since the last of Mbutu'sfish was consumed, and with the faintness and hunger came inevitabledejection 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 itwould have been better to follow the stream and chance the Arabs. Ican't keep up much longer, Mbutu."

  The Muhima was speechless, though his eyes eloquently expressed hisanxiety and affection. Before they resumed their journey he cut hismaster another stout staff from a sapling of hard wood, the first havingbeen lost in the stream. After struggling through the forest for aboutan hour, every step more painful to Tom, they came suddenly upon anunexpected scene of desolation. It was a wide clearing, on which avillage of considerable dimensions had at one time stood; the blackenedground told a tale of burning and rapine. Beyond it there were wholegroves of banana-trees scorched and ruined, hundreds of palms lyingprostrate, and acres of ground, once cultivated, now denuded of everyvestige of life. Near a heap of ashes lay a number of charred bones,and Tom shuddered as he passed on.

  Beyond this area of destruction the forest was less dense, and Mbutu byand by discovered a narrow track which he declared was the pathway ofpigmies. He looked round apprehensively, fearing every moment lestswift arrows from unseen bows in the brushwood should put a sudden endto their lives. Once he
exclaimed that he heard the clash of spearsamid the foliage, but Tom assured him it must be simply the rustling ofstiff leaves. As the evening shades were falling, the boy assertedpositively that he saw little faces peering at him from the trees, andTom, with a weary sigh, answered:

  "I do not care, Mbutu. Elves or sprites or human beings, they don'tconcern us unless they bring us food. Perhaps the pigmies have beenshadowing us all the way since we saved that boy; why should they wishto hurt us? If you see one again, call to him. Call now; perhaps thereis a settlement near; we might miss many in this wild forest."

  Mbutu plucked up courage to call, but the only answer was a manifoldecho from the trees, the squawk of parrots, and what sounded like thebarking laugh of the hyena. Tom could walk no farther; he felt that hewould fain rest for ever. On this night Mbutu built up a small hut ofleaves and twigs for his master, and lit a watch-fire to scare, awaywild intruders. For supper they gnawed some leaves, but Tom fell intothe sleep of exhaustion in the middle of his scanty meal, and Mbutu satfor hours watching him uneasily. He, too, was at last overcome byfatigue, but not until he had thoughtfully heaped enough fuel on thefire to last until dawn. Tom woke first. He rose feebly and staggeredoat of the hut, his forehead hot, his hands clammy; and there, betweenthe still burning fire and his rough shelter, was a huge bunch ofplantains! He could scarcely believe his eyes. He called Mbutu, butthe boy did not stir. He went to him and shook him.

  "Where did you get them?" he asked. "Have you eaten some yourself?"

  Mbutu sprang up and stared, not understanding what his master meant, andbelieving that he must be light-headed. When Tom pointed to theplantains, the boy gave a gasp and looked up in the trees and all aroundin amazement. Without another word both began to eat ravenously, and nottill they had nearly finished the bunch did Mbutu suggest an explanationof the godsend. The spirits of his ancestors, he said, must have beenwatching over him, or perhaps the Great Spirit of whom he had heard theWhite Father speak, and who really did seem to care for the black manand white man alike, as the missionary had averred. Tom let the boytalk on. Suddenly a hare-shaped animal darted across the ground infront of them; there was a whirring sound; the animal fell, a shortarrow piercing it to the heart. Mbutu sprang up, and ran towards it;then started back, and looked about him with wide scared eyes. Nothinghappened; the skilful marksman did not appear to claim his prize; themorning stillness was not broken by so much as a rustling leaf. Mbutuagain moved towards the animal, treading delicately, and stopping atevery second step to glance fearfully around. He seized the animal, andran back swiftly with it.

  "Bambute, sah!" he whispered, in a tone of awe. "Sah him friends. Sahsabe pickin; Bambute much glad. Oh yes! no want food no more; Bambutegib food."

  Again Tom seemed to hear Mr. Barkworth's voice: "There's no gratitude inthese natives! I know them." He wondered whether the fact was as Mbutuhad surmised; whether the woman had brought her people to see the whiteman; whether they had dogged the travellers all the way, or had comeupon them by accident. Mbutu was already skinning the animal, andpreparing it for the fire. Never was flesh more welcome to starvingmen. Refreshed and strengthened, Tom rose with renewed hope to continuehis march.

  But next day the old dejection returned. Of the pigmies there was nosign; no heaven-sent food was placed at their feet; they trudged on andon, almost blindly, always hungry. So four days passed, days upon whichTom could never look back without a shudder of horror. Stories ofprisoners starving in barred dungeons recurred to his mind; and hewondered which was worse, slowly to pine away in confinement, withinbare stone walls that invited death, or to die in the midst of vigorouslife, with liberty to range immense spaces. "Death is only death afterall," he thought, and he remembered Gordon's words, quoted by Mr.Barkworth: "Heaven is as near the hot desert as the cool church athome". But his mind revolted against death. "I am young--young!" hisheart cried. "I want to live, to do things. I am not a broken horse ora rusty engine. No, Tom Burnaby, I'll never forgive you if you chuck itall up yet." And he braced himself and plodded on.

  Just after noon, on the fifth day after the pigmies' present, thetravellers found that the forest was thinning somewhat; the trees werefarther apart, and there was a renewal of the low bush, not so dense orso obstructive as it had been for the past few days. Presently theycame to an almost open glade, and Mbutu pointed to a track crossing thedirection of their march from clump to clump. It was not four hoursold, he declared; the footprints were still soft and clearly marked.They were too large to have been made by pigmies. The weary travellerssat down on a heap of leaves, hastily collected, to talk the matterover, Mbutu being in favour of going in the same direction as thefootprints, which must lead, sooner or later, to a village. Suddenlythey heard a rapid thud-thud as of heavy footsteps on the sodden ground,accompanied by a curious clanking, suggesting to Tom the sound of aloose horseshoe on a turfy moor. As they were wondering what it mightbe, a tall black figure, scantily clad, ran out of the forest on theirright, labouring heavily, the sweat rolling off his face and body, hiseyes protruding with eagerness and fear. Tom had just noticed that partof a chain, with a broken block of wood attached to it, hung from a gyveon the man's left ankle, and another chain from an iron circlet abouthis left wrist, when three Arabs and a negro came out of the wood atshort intervals in hot pursuit.

  Tom and Mbutu were partially concealed from the strangers by thestraggling bush. Pursued and pursuers had almost crossed the wide openspace, the foremost Arab but a yard behind, when the fettered negrostopped short suddenly, turned round, and with a desperate movement ofhis left arm struck the Arab full in the face with the dangling chain.The Arab dropped, and the hunted man turned again to flee, but the restwere almost upon him. Tom saw that, encumbered as the negro was, hemust inevitably be run down in a few moments. Instinctively taking theweaker side, and forgetting his own exhaustion, he sprang up, andsprinting with all the speed of which his tired limbs were capable, hedashed after the pursuers, followed closely by Mbutu. The chase hadevidently been a long one; hunters and hunted were breathless, and trodheavily. In the excitement of the moment Tom dashed along at a speed ofwhich a minute earlier he would have thought himself utterly incapable;and he soon saw that he was gaining rapidly on the Arabs. They hadmuskets, which he inferred they had already fired, and had had no timeto reload. He had his staff, and Mbutu clutched his knife.

  The foremost of the two remaining Arabs and the negro were closing onthe fugitive when Tom overtook the second Arab. He, hearing the thud ofrapid footsteps immediately behind, checked his pace, and gave astartled glance backwards. Instantly Tom's fist was flung out, and theArab, receiving the full force of the blow between the eyes, spun round,and rolled over and over. Mbutu, as he shot by, snatched at his fallingmusket, and making upon the pursuing negro, thrust it between his legs,so that he was tripped up and fell heavily. He clutched at Mbutu to savehimself, and both reached the ground together. There was a short, sharpstruggle; Mbutu wriggled out of the big man's grip, and drove his knifethrough his heart.

  Meanwhile the fugitive, taking advantage of this miraculous succour, hadstopped running, and was now engaging the only remaining Arab in asingular duel. He was swinging the chain upon his wrist like a flail,the Arab using the musket in his left hand to parry its clankingstrokes. It was an unequal contest. The negro's force was spent; thechain was no match for weapons firmly held. The Arab was just about torush in with his knife under the negro's guard when he was strucksmartly behind the knee with Tom's thick staff, and as he half fell hispanting opponent brought the chain down with one tremendous sweep andstretched him senseless.

  The rescued negro flung himself face downwards on the ground, gasping,almost sobbing, with relief. Tom looked round for the Arab whom he hadfirst struck down, and caught sight of him speeding back into theforest. The big negro was dead; one of the prostrate Arabs wasstirring, the other still lay unconscious.

  Tom sat down to rest, propping his head
on his arms, and panting fromhis exertions. Mbutu stood anxiously scanning the fugitive, who by andby turned over, and looked at his rescuers with eyes that plainly toldhow puzzled he was at the mystery of their intervention. He was afine-looking man, with strong muscular frame, and a face of greatintelligence and some refinement of feature. About his close woollyhair he wore two thin fillets, and a dozen necklaces of string encircledhis neck, a number of small wooden charms dangling from them; from alonger string a cube of wood hung upon his breast. Mbutu, after gazingat him in silence for a moment or two, suddenly addressed to him a fewwords in a Bantu dialect. The man started, fixed his eyes in keenscrutiny on the boy's face, and then answered him in the same language.A rapid dialogue ensued, and Mbutu, turning eagerly to his master,exclaimed:

  "Him Muhima, sah; Muhima like Mbutu; him chief, name Barega. Say sahhim fader and mudder; him gib sah hut, and food--eberyfing belong him."

  Tom smiled wearily. His recent exertions had, he felt, precipitated theinevitable collapse. He was approaching the last stage of exhaustion.

  "I'm glad, Mbutu," he said. "But had we not better be going? TheseArabs may belong to a party, and we shall almost certainly be pursuedand outnumbered. I can hardly walk, but the chief's village may not befar. Can he take us there?"

  Mbutu again spoke with his compatriot.

  "Yes, sah," he said at length. "Village five marches ober dar. Saymust go all too quick."

  "Five marches! I can never do it."

  "Try, sah, try; must do it," cried the boy imploringly himself tremblingwith pain and fatigue.

  "One more try, then. Can we first knock off the man's chains?"

  The negro, himself exerting tremendous power with fingers and wrist,managed, with Mbutu's assistance, to break off both chains, leavingsimply the circles of iron about his wrist and ankle. The three thenprepared to start; but as they turned Tom felt a touch of compunctionfor the two Arabs prostrate on the ground, but still alive.

  "I don't like leaving them to perish. What can we do for them?"

  "Nuffin, nuffin, sah," cried Mbutu. "All too bad lot. Chief kill."

  "No, I can't allow it," said Tom sternly. "Go to the dead negro, andtear a strip off his loin-cloth. If you peg it to a tree it is bound toattract the attention of their companion when he returns with help."

  Mbutu having, with rather an ill grace, done his master's bidding, theBahima chief led the way into the forest towards the south-west, Tom andthe boy, each with a musket in his right hand, following him painfully.They never knew that, just as they disappeared among the trees, half adozen little naked figures sprang silently out of the wood on the otherside. They darted to the fallen Arabs, pierced them through and throughwith their spears, and then, despoiling them of their clothing, vanishedagain into the forest as noiselessly as they had come.