Crompton nodded.
“They’re probably the descendants of Chaka’s people. He was a bloodthirsty brute and many headmen fled from his country to escape death at his hands.”
“That’s a good theory, Doc, and I believe it’s the true one. But what do you think they’ll do with us?”
“I haven’t dared think. At any rate we’re all alive, that’s something to be thankful for.”
“You forget poor old Jan, Daddy. Where’s he?”
“Jan, he alive too, Missy.”
At the sound of the voice they turned to behold Jan emerging from the hut before which they stood. A plume of ostrich feathers was on his head, and a short kilt of the same gorgeous feathers hung from his waist. The copper head-ring he used to wear was replaced by one of gold.
As he walked toward them, armed warriors emerged from other huts and grouped themselves behind him. Picked men, these, for they were taller and more powerfully built than any Dick had seen in the journey from the cavern to the kraal. But, even so, the tallest and mightiest of them was dwarfed by Jan’s massive form. There was a quiet dignity about him that was truly royal and Dick, almost involuntarily, threw up his right hand and gave Jan the Zulu royal salute:
“Bayete!”
Dorothy was the first to recover her composure at the sight of Jan in his new guise.
“Why, Jan, you old fraud, what does all this mean?”
Jan grinned broadly.
“I know not, Missy. These fool men here saying I king of this country.” Jan delighted to air his knowledge of English. “They give me plenty food—treat me dam’ well. I say. ‘You bring Missy, Baas Dick, Baas Crompton and—’” Jan glowered at Burgess—“‘other white man, else I no be king.’ You are here—therefore Jan king.
“O-he,” Jan called loudly in the vernacular. “I am now ready for you, Oh, Macabe.”
From yet another hut came a number of men and women, all wearing leopard skins about their shoulders.
At their head was a young woman of a fierce, savage beauty. Her eyes flashed arrogantly as she gazed about her, and the men of the bodyguard cringed as her glance fell upon them. Save that her skin was dark—the color of burnished copper—there was little of the negro about her. Her nose was slightly aquiline. The thick lips of her race in her became a provocative pout. Her figure was slight, graceful, strong—as leopards are strong.
“Are you content, Oh, man who shall be king?” she asked. A sibilant hiss seemed to run through her speech. “Your friends are safe.”
“Aye, I am content,” Jan answered. “Yet hear me. I have said that these are my friends and are under my protection. See you to it then that no harm comes to them—unless, perhaps, you would look upon death.”
The woman’s eyes flashed angrily but She answered softly:
“You are the king, my lord. Do not deal harshly with your servant.”
From the arena beyond the kraal sounded the sullen murmur of many people.
“Come,” said the woman Macabe. “They are tired of waiting.”
* * * *
With her satellites she led the way from the kraal, closely followed by Jan and his party. Before them ran one of the bodyguard shouting:
“Clear the way, Oh you people of the Valley. Clear the way for the servants of the beast and the man who shall be king.”
As the party entered the arena the vast concourse of people burst into the song of the “King’s Homecoming.”
Our blood is thy blood.
Strongly it flows.
Art thirsty? Then drink.
Au-a!
Reaching a large mound in the center of the arena, the woman Macabe ascended it, bidding Jan accompany her. The others grouped themselves around the base of the hill.
The chanting ceased and all was still “You do well, Oh people of the Valley,” cried Macabe, “to sing that song. Never before have you sung it in the light of day. Long have we waited the coming of the Deliverer. But now the time of waiting is over.
“Remember you the prophecy?”
“Aye, we remember,” answered the multitude and they chanted slowly:
“‘From the River Darkness,’ said the Great Spirit, ‘shall come the chosen one, the Deliverer. Thus shall you know him. Four Children of Light shall bear him company, and on his left arm will he carry the print of my hand.’“
The chanting ceased.
“It is well,” cried Macabe pointing to Jan. “Here stands the Deliverer. Is it not so my sisters? Is it not so my brothers?”
“Aye, it is true, sister,” answered the men and women who had come with Macabe to the arena.
“From the River Darkness he came,” cried Macabe. “We saw him. Did we not, my sisters?”
“Our eyes have seen,” shouted the people. “But what of the hand print on his arm—the hand print of the Great Spirit?”
“It is there,” screamed Macabe in a frenzy of exultation. “Did you not see it, my brothers?”
“Aye, we saw it, sister,” replied the men at the foot of the mound.
“You have heard, you have seen. What remains then Oh people of the Valley?”
The response was a deep-throated roar. “Bayete!” and thrice repeated, “Bayete!” then once again the people burst into the song of the King’s Homecoming.
And at the direction of Macabe, Jan, together with the “Four Children of Light” came to a huge platform overlooking the arena. Here certain elderly natives, wearing the head-ring of minor chiefs, came to pay him homage and each one before he gave way to make room for another gazed with awestruck eyes at Jan’s massive upper arm.
“What is it, Daddy? What are they looking at?” whispered Dorothy.
Crompton shook with silent laughter.
“It’s Jan’s vaccination marks. Don’t you remember I vaccinated him at the time of the smallpox scare? And what a job I had because it wouldn’t take. I never thought then that I was establishing a proof of Jan’s claim to kingship.” Meanwhile warriors were displaying their battle prowess in the arena below and the place resounded with their fierce yells.
Anon there sounded the loud beating of tom-toms and the warriors left the arena to make way for a bevy of maidens. These too, singing the Song of Marriage, passed out; but one of their number remained. She was covered from head to foot with scarlet flowers. A thunderous salute greeted the girl as she stood looking timidly from side to side.
“All hail to the Bride of the Beast!” the mob cried.
Hardly had the words died away when a tawny, shadow-spotted thing leaped out into the arena and crouching, gazed balefully at the terrified girl “Stop it, Jan,” Dorothy cried appealingly.
But Jan for once remained deaf to the voice of Missy; for the moment he had reverted to the days and customs of his ancestors. His eyes filled with a savage light as he watched the tawny thing of death making ready to spring.
Dorothy turned round to Burgess who was standing behind her and shuddered at the malevolent sneer which clouded his face as he eagerly watched for the consummation of the drama.
“Dick!” she cried in an agonized appeal.
But Harding had already snatched an assegai from the hands of one of the guards and leaping into the arena was running toward the leopard, shouting as he ran.
The beast quickly shifted its attention from the panic-stricken girl to the on-rushing man. This was something new in its experience. It had been accustomed to taking its prey in his own good time—secure from any fear of interruption. A frenzy of rage possessed the beast; it was as if it sensed that this newcomer was a menace to the enjoyment of its meal.
Like an arrow from a bow it leaped full at the charging man.
Dick quickly dropped on one knee and as the leopard passed over his head thrust upward with his assegai.
The weapon entered the beast’s belly but without inflicting a fatal wound, and the impetus of the leopard’s charge carried the assegai out of Dick’s hand.
Again the leopard crouched, its tail lash
ing savagely, and Dick, now weaponless, could do nothing but helplessly wait for death.
Then it was that Jan threw off the blood lust which had ensnared him.
“I’m coming, Baas Dick,” he cried. “Keep still.”
The leopard tensed its muscles, ready for its spring. In another moment—
Like a flash of living light an assegai sped from Jan’s hand, then another, and another. Three assegais sped on their way in the drawing of a breath, and the people gasped at the marvel of it.
Straight to their marks went the weapons, piercing the leopard through and through. It rolled over, biting and clawing at the sharp things which gnawed at its vitals; its big body heaved convulsively—and then was still.
A sullen murmur arose from the people.
“He has killed the beast. Evil will come to us.” Jan held up his hand in a command for silence.
“It is true,” he said, “that I have killed the beast and it is a thing well done. See a maiden torn to pieces by such a thing as that?”
He kicked the body of the dead leopard. “Would you have your daughters die that death? And you young men? Is it so that you treat maidens? No; the rule of the beast is done—no more shall such things be. You have called me Deliverer, and it is to my mind that it was to deliver you from such evil I was sent. If any of you question my will, I will put on one side the matter of kingship and, meeting him man to man, argue the matter out with him.”
But they, remembering how he had killed the leopard, shouted:
“We hear and we obey.”
“It is well,” replied Jan. “Now I go to the hut that has been prepared for me. But for you—it has been whispered to me that there will be great feasting.”
“Great feasting indeed, O Deliverer. The Feast of your Homecoming.”
CHAPTER V
SERVANTS OF THE BEAST
At the gate of the stockade which encircled the huts of the king, Jan dismissed the warriors who had acted as his bodyguard, bidding them to partake of the feasting. Joyfully they hurried away, accompanied by Burgess who had expressed a desire to witness the celebrations.
When they had departed Jan was conscious for the first time of the presence of the maiden who had been saved from the leopard.
“What do you want, maiden?” he asked.
“You saved me from death, Oh Deliverer. I am your slave.”
“There is no room for women in my hut,” Jan said irritably. “Go—before I kill you.” He made a mock threat with an assegai.
“And where shall I go where death is not?” There was terror in the girl’s voice. “I was marked to die by Macabe. While I live she will not rest.”
“My order has gone out that there shall be no more bloodshed,” Jan said pompously. “And I am king.”
“Aye, thou art king and Macabe—she is the Mistress of the Beast.”
“The Beast is dead.”
“The Beast of the flesh is dead. But the Beast of the Spirit still lives.”
“You speak like a foolish maiden. But if you fear death, become the slave of this white man,” Jan indicated Harding, “for he saved you; he can protect you.”
The girl looked at Dick, then shook her head. “No! That is not the way of things. He is a man of single heart and that is already given. Ah! Woe is me!”
She turned away, sobbing softly.
Dorothy went up to her and asked her softly: “What is your name, maiden?”
“Mamwe, I am called, Oh Daughter of Light.”
“Then you shall come with me. Mamwe,” said Dorothy and led the girl into the hut which Jan had set apart for her.
Jan turned to the two white men.
“What do you think of this place, Baas Dick? And you, Baas Crompton?” As he spoke Jan divested himself of the plumed head-dress and feathered kilt. “As for me.” he continued, “this being king is a wearisome business.”
Crompton laughed.
“It has saved all our lives, Jan.”
“But to what end, Baas? Though I laughed at the fears of the maiden, Mamwe, there is no cause for laughter. What did she mean by her talk of the Beast of the Spirit?”
“It is only the talk of a frightened girl.”
But Dick shook his head.
“I’m not so sure, Doc. Don’t forget the way in which Burgess was carried off, and the fact that none of us saw who captured us. Even Jan—and they’ve made him king—is kept in ignorance of that.”
“Well, you’re surely not going to tell me that you believe in a supernatural Beast that comes and goes at the commands of Macabe?”
“No, not that, Doc. But don’t forget that Macabe is a woman to be reckoned with and the head, as I take it, of some powerful secret society. She made Jan king for a purpose and she can ‘unking’ him if that purpose fails in its effect.
We’ve already incurred her enmity by stopping the sacrifice today.”
“I thinking Baas Dick talks dam’ true talk,” said Jan. Then, entering his hut he beckoned the two men to follow him.
On the floor of the hut were the packs which they had brought with them into the Valley. Jan untied them and taking out the rifles and revolvers handed them to the white men. “Missy’s revolver is in her hut,” said Jan. “These others,” he indicated another rifle and revolver, “they belong to Baas Burgess.”
“You take them, Jan. They are yours. We daren’t trust Burgess with arms.”
Well pleased—for he had long coveted the weapons of a white man—Jan buckled the revolver belt around his waist.
“I think,” he said, “the Spirit of the Beast will bow before the Spirit of the Gun. Now what think you of these? I found them in the hut.”
Jan opened a large bag made from the skin of a goat. It contained a quantity of pebbles of various shapes and sizes which he emptied out onto the ground.
Crompton paid them but a passing glance, not so Harding. He pounced on them eagerly, holding one after another up to the light.
“Don’t you see what they are, Doc?” he cried exultantly.
“I don’t see anything to get excited about They look like bits of dirty glass.”
“And what did you expect diamonds in the rough to look like?” Dick cried.
Crompton caught at the word.
“Diamonds,” he said. “Diamonds? Are you sure, Dick?”
“Sure? Of course I’m sure. There’s no need for us to stay here a day longer. We can start back tomorrow. There’s enough here to—I’ll go and tell Dorothy.”
He rose to his feet, but at that moment a shadow fell across the opening of the hut and, a moment later, Macabe entered.
* * * *
When Burgess returned to the arena he, at the first opportunity, evaded the guards and mingled with the crowd of excited natives. Macabe, and one of her men attendants, was still on the raised dais and toward that Burgess slowly thrust his way. He wanted to talk with the tigerish, commanding woman, hoping to enlist her aid in winning Dorothy.
Here and there in the crowd he noticed that the Servants of the Beast—the men and women who wore leopard skins—were being pelted with filth and beaten with sticks.
Smiling grimly, Burgess came to the dais and, standing behind Macabe, watched the milling crowd.
A group of old men passed close to the dais and shook their fists at Macabe. They were followed by a group of young men, one of whom spat at her.
“A man made a friend of a lion,” Burgess said scoffingly, “and the lion killed him.”
Macabe turned on him with a fierce gesture—she seemed to be conscious of his presence for the first time.
“What do you mean?” she asked imperiously. “What are you doing here?”
She looked at him disdainfully.
“And I mean,” he continued, “that for some reason, hoping, I think to gain more power for yourself, you have made a king of a common dog—telling the people he came in fulfillment of a prophecy. What was…your purpose?”
Her eyes flashed.
“Tha
t is not for you to know.”
“Yet I know that, in making a king, you have undone yourself.”
“Think you so?” Her tone was arrogant.
“I know,” answered Burgess complacently. “It is not your praises they are singing.” He waved his hand toward a party of warriors. They were singing the song of the King’s Homecoming.
A group of maidens passed by and hailed Macabe as “the woman whose sun has set.”
“The fools,” sneered Macabe. “Do they not know that the sun will rise again?
“But what is all this to you?” She turned to Burgess. “The others, the men of skins like unto yours, and the maiden whose beauty is like that of the Morning Star,—are they not your friends?”
“No—they seek to kill me.”
“But the girl? What of her? Nay, there is no need for you to answer. I can read your heart. You desire her, but she will have nothing to do with you.”
“It is true. I thought that you could help me.”
“Help you? And what shall be my reward?”
“Perhaps I can help you.”
Macabe was silent for a moment.
“It is well,” she said at length. “We two may accomplish much. Mopa,” she turned to her companion, a thick-set man with the ungainly figure of a gorilla, “take this white man to the place of the Beast. There I will join you later.” Mopa led the way across the arena and up the passage which Burgess and Harding had traversed earlier in the day. Past the cage containing the leopard they went, coming to the dark tunnel which led to the cavern under the Falls. Here Mopa stopped, and stooping, pushed ever so slightly on a large boulder.
Burgess gave an exclamation of fear for the earth seemed to open at his feet, then as his eyes became more accustomed to the dim light of the place he saw that the boulder had swung aside, uncovering a flight of steps, cut in the rocks, leading to a large cavern.
“Hurry,” said Mopa in a harsh voice, speaking for the first time.
As they descended the steps, Burgess noted that the boulder rolled back into place, seemingly of its own volition.
The cavern he soon discovered was a large one and lighted by torches which gave out a sickening, almost overpowering smell. At the end of the cavern, opposite the steps, was a sort of dais in the center of which stood a large leopard carved out of stone. Chained to it were several cubs playing like so many kittens.
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