really and trulyescaped. King 'Ngaloo had serious thoughts of ordering the priestMahmoud to instant execution, but was so mollified at the sight of theother gifts brought him that he forgave him.
These gifts were many and varied. Rum came first, then beads, blue,crimson, white and black, and of various sizes, then jack-knives anddaggers, white-iron whistles, a drum of large dimensions, a concertina,and a pair of brass lacquered tongs. These last two gifts were the bestfun of all, for King 'Ngaloo, squatting in the middle of his tent floorwith his wives all round him or near him, would sip rum and play theconcertina time about. His playing was peculiar. After he had finishedabout half a bottle of the fire-water he began to feel his heart warmenough to have some fun, on which he would jump up and with his brasstongs seize one of his wives by the nose, drawing her round and roundthe tent, she screaming with pain, he with laughter, till one would havethought all bedlam was let loose.
Yes, the king was pacified, and Mahmoud was allowed to depart, with anaddition to his caravan of one hundred poor victims who were to bedragged away into slavery.
He went away much sooner than he had intended had he been successful ingetting more slaves. And besides, the truth is, Mahmoud was a littleafraid that the king might take it into his head to pull him round thetent with the tongs, and Mahmoud had a profound respect for his nose.
I really think it was a pity the king did not do so.
Only it was evident the king had other thoughts in his head, for one dayhe jumped up, and after practising the tongs exercise on his primeminister for five minutes, he held the instrument of torture aloft andsnapped it wildly in the air.
"Teiah roota Kara-Kara yalla golla," he shouted, or some such words,"I'll never be content till I seize Kara-Kara by the nose, and the tongsshall be made red-hot for the purpose."
"I'd send and tell him so," that is what Mahmoud had suggested.
"Dee a beeseeta--I'll do so," said the king.
And away the messenger was sent to King Kara-Kara.
The messenger obeyed his instructions, and King Kara-Kara took muchpleasure in cutting off his head, but as this was no more than themessenger had expected there was not much harm done.
But, and it is a big "but," had King 'Ngaloo only known that at the verytime Mahmoud was in _his_ camp or village, his "brother" Suliemon was inthat of the rival potentate, and that he had sold him the unfortunatemen of the _Bunting_, Mahmoud would not have been allowed to depart,unless he could have done so without his head. For both Mahmoud and his"brother" were excellent business men, and were not at all averse toplaying into each other's hands.
Before Mahmoud had left the town of this African potentate he wasallowed to choose his slaves. He chose, to begin with, a day on whichKing Kara-Kara had imbibed even more rum than usual. Indeed, he was soabsurdly tipsy that he could not hold the tongs.
He was determined to see that he was not cheated for all that, and so,supported on one side by his prime minister, and on the other by one ofhis priests, the chief executioner, sword in hand, coming up behind, hewaddled out to the great square in which the poor unhappy souls, men andwomen, from whom Mahmoud was to make his choice were drawn up.
The first thing the king did after getting outside was to give vent toan uncontrollable fit of laughing. Nobody knew what he was laughing at,nor, I dare say, did he himself. But he suddenly grew serious, hit hisprime minister on the face with his open palm, and asked why he daredlaugh in his august presence.
Though his nose bled a little, the minister said nothing; he was used toall the king's little eccentricities, and this was one of them.
After he had got into the square, the king desired to be informed whatthe meeting was all about.
"Execution, isn't it?" That is what he said in his own language.
"That fellow Mahmoud's white head is coming off, isn't it? Turban andall? Turban and all, ha! ha! ha! I told him I would do it. And Iwill."
No wonder Mahmoud had trembled in his sandals.
But King 'Ngaloo was soon put right.
Then Mahmoud made his choice.
He hesitated not to tear asunder mother and child, husband and wife,sister and brother. It was merely a case of youth and strength withhim.
When he had finished, the slaves were at once chained together, and soonafter, having bidden farewell to this pretty king, the march wascommenced.
There was weeping and wailing among the new-made slaves, and there wasweeping and wailing among those left behind.
But what cared Mahmoud?
As they marched away, while 'Ngaloo's warlike tom-toms were beating, andhis chanters sounding, a music that was almost demoniacal, the poorcaptives as with one accord cast a glance around them at the village--which, savage though it was, had been their home--but which they wouldnever, never see again. Just one wild despairing glance, nothing more.Then heavily fell the lash on the naked shoulders of the last pairs, andon they went.
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"Dey come, dey come!" cried Raggy, in despair.
Yes, they were coming--Mahmoud's caravan and his wretched slaves. Theywere soon in sight, looking just the same as when last seen, only withthat dark and mournful chained line between the swarthy spear-armedSomalis.
Harry prayed inwardly that they might pass on. They did not, butstopped to bivouac on the old camping ground.
And yet our hero could not help admitting to himself that his adventurewith the lion that had delayed his journey had really been meant for hisgood. It had saved his life to all appearance, for Mahmoud had returnedfar sooner than even Jack--who knew the road and the work before his oldmaster--could have dreamed of.
This only proves, I think, reader, that we are shortsighted mortals, andthat our prayers may truly be answered, although things may not turn outjust as we would have desired them.
In the morning Mahmoud seemed in no hurry to leave, and the day wore onwithout very much stir in his camp. It was an anxious day for Harry andhis companions, just as it had been a long and anxious night. Theynever knew the moment the sharp-sighted Somalis might find their trailand track them to their cave on the hill.
The recent rains alone probably prevented so great a catastrophe, elsebeside that camp-fire a scene of blood would have been enacted thatmakes one shudder even to think about.
In the afternoon there rushed into Mahmoud's camp, wildly waving hisspear aloft, one of the Somali spies. Then the commotion in the campgrew intense. Mahmoud shortly after left the place all alone, and inless than twenty minutes returned with his so-called brother Suliemon.
This very spot there was the rendezvous for these slave-dealers on theirreturn from their expedition. Behind Suliemon came a vast crowd ofchained slaves. There could not have been less than a thousand. Howtired they appeared! No sooner was the order to halt given, than theythrew themselves on the grass, just as weary sheep would have donereturning from a fair.
There was no movement that night, so Harry and his merry men had to lieclose like foxes in their lair.
Next morning, however, as early as daybreak, the whole camp was astir,and for nearly two hours the shouting and howling, the firing of gunsand cracking of whips were hideous to hear. The scene near thecamp-fire was like some awful pandemonium.
But by ten o'clock, as nearly as Harry could judge, every one had gone,and silence once more reigned over forest and plain.
Our hero breathed more freely now, yet it would have been madness forany of them to have ventured forth even yet. Some loitering Somalimight have seen him and given instant alarm.
Strange to say, the excitement appeared to have almost restored Harry tohealth. He no longer felt weak, and he longed to be away on the roadagain.
He knew enough of the climate, however, not to venture for a week or twolonger, for a man needs all the nerve and strength that the human framecan possess to battle against the odds presented to him on such ajourney as that which he was now making.
&nbs
p; The day wore away, the sun set in a cloudscape of indescribable glory,the short twilight succeeded, then the stars peeped out through the bluerifts in the sky.
After a supper of fruit and roasted yams, Harry lay down on his couch ofgrass and fell into a dreamless sleep.
When he awoke, the stars were still shining and the sky was far moreclear. A brightly burning scimitar of a moon was declining towards thehorizon, and not far from it, to the west and north, the well-knownconstellation of Orion. Yonder also, blinking red and green, was thegreat Mars himself.
But it was not to study the stars that Harry had crept out of the tent,but to breathe fresher air, for there was no wind to-night. Not abranch stirred in the forest, not a leaf moved. The wild beasts hadbeen scared far away, only now and then a lion roared, and the screamsof the wild birds filled up the intervals. Dreadfully eerie they are tolisten to on a night like this, and in such a lonely scene.
"Eeah--eee--ah--eeah--eeah--ah!"
Harry Milvaine; Or, The Wanderings of a Wayward Boy Page 31