Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “Go ahead!” ordered the petty officer, and the launch speeded up the river against the tide, and finally disappeared from view.

  Chéri-Bibi and the Nut felt fairly certain that they had now thrown the warders off the scent, for obviously they still believed that the two men were at some point on the opposite bank of the river. Thus they landed on the right bank, and leaving both the river and sea behind them, plunged boldly into the heart of the jungle.

  Chéri-Bibi seemed to be following some well thought-out plan, for he interrupted their journey from time to time to take his bearings. Their progress, moreover, had become extremely difficult, and the Nut made the suggestion that they might now call a halt for a little sleep, and set out again the next day.

  Under the canopy of the high forest trees and in the dense entanglement of creepers and parasitical vegetation of all sorts, they forged their way in murky darkness.

  “Have you anything to light a fire with?” said Chéri-Bibi in answer to the Nut’s proposal. “No, of course you haven’t. Well, I’ve got three matches left, and I needn’t tell you that after our dip in the river they won’t light, so what then, old man? To go to sleep at night in the forest without having a fire beside you is to stand a pretty good chance of waking up in the jaws of a jaguar. Come on. We’ll have a sleep during the day.”

  Thus they moved on for the remainder of the night, conscious that if they stopped to lie down they would close their eyes in utter prostration.

  Chéri-Bibi sought to encourage the Nut by telling him stupendous stories of the jungle, so stupendous, in fact, that the Nut had some difficulty in believing them. What strange tragedies and what legends of mysterious and fabulous fortunes were associated with the gold-diggers!... Meantime they were almost naked, and each carried a knife as his sole weapon.

  “As we’ve been walking for such a time, it can’t be long now before we come to the Pupa,” said Chéri-Bibi.

  “What’s the Pupa?”

  “It’s a small river which flows into the Cayenne, and, of course, it bars our route. We are bound to come up against it whether we go a little farther one way or the other. So when we get there we shall be able to see how we stand.”

  The Nut’s feet were bleeding. He would have liked to take off the rough shoes which were the regulation shoes served out by the Penitentiary Administration; but Chéri-Bibi set his face against it.

  “We’re going through a forest which is full of rattlesnakes, old man, and nothing is more poisonous than those reptiles. One bite is enough! Make as much noise as you can as we go along so as to drive them away — and keep your shoes on!”

  They frequently used their knives to cut a path through the inextricable tangle of undergrowth, and they made two staffs for themselves, veritable boar spears, from a wood as hard as iron, called gun wood. As they proceeded they beat the thickets right and left, and often heard the spring of some Wild animal as it took itself off in the darkness. At length dawn suddenly broke.

  Chéri-Bibi started to run. The Nut heard him shouting:

  “The Pupa!... The Pupa!”

  He managed to drag himself so far and dropped, at the end of his endurance, before a stream whose cool waters lapped the clear rocks. Chéri-Bibi lay flat with his face in the water drinking... drinking. The Nut bent down and drank out of the same cup; and afterwards both slept a dreamless sleep in the shade of the branches which overhung this enchanting stream.

  So overcome were they by sleep and exhaustion that they did not hear the approach of four men somewhat noisily descending the bank of the river which they too were longing to reach. When their eyes fell on Chéri-Bibi and the Nut, the four men stopped with one accord. It was the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker.

  The delight of the four miscreants, when they saw before them, at their mercy, the two beings whom they most hated in the world, knew no bounds. They were armed with axes which they had seized together with some food already consumed, however — as they passed through a woodcutting establishment near Kourou.

  They had but to lift their arms and strike; and already the Parisian was shaking his ax in the air and staring at the Nut with a look in his eyes in which the craving for murder had already sent the blood. But the Joker who had the coolest head among the gang, agreed with the Burglar, who was the most cunning, that it was a matter that demanded consideration. They dragged the Parisian and the Caid away, and there was a council of war.

  The result of the discussion was that the four convicts put off for a while their treacherous attack. The Joker’s line of argument was, moreover, entirely convincing. It was no secret, he said, that Chéri-Bibi possessed at some spot in the forest a hiding-place in which he must certainly have taken the precaution, during his earlier expeditions, to collect together such things as provisions and so forth to prevent himself from dying of starvation. From all appearance the two scantily dressed men, who lay overwhelmed with sleep, and defenseless, had not yet reached any of those hiding-places. Would it not be better, before disposing of them, to wait until they themselves had betrayed their hoard to the men who, like the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid, and the Joker, stood most in need of it?

  Having made up their minds, they retraced their steps slightly towards the north so as to be behind the two men when they resumed their journey. But they kept to the banks of the Pupa, which were obviously some sort of guide to Chéri-Bibi.

  As a matter of fact, when Chéri-Bibi woke up, he first took his bearings, and then roused the Nut from his heavy slumber, and both followed the river bank, making for the south-west.

  The Parisian and his gang did not lose sight of their movements. And they had the satisfaction of seeing Chéri-Bibi halt at the foot of a tall tree, lift a boulder, and dig the earth underneath with the point of his wooden spear. The Nut lent him a hand. They seemed to work with growing excitement. To those who were watching the scene, there could not be the shadow of a doubt that at that spot stood the hiding-place in which their treasure was concealed.

  At last Chéri-Bibi stooped forward and after rummaging in the earth began to pass sundry articles to the Nut.

  The Burglar, who knew how to steal through the forest without making a twig crackle just as he knew, in Paris, how to move about a fiat at night without stumbling against the furniture, had crept forward pretty close to the two men without arousing suspicion, and was eagerly watching the scene. To begin with, the hiding-place contained a kit-bag full of articles which were of prime necessity. The Burglar heard Chéri-Bibi enumerate them in a hoarse voice: a compass, a small lantern, a saw, some tins of preserved meat, spices, two bottles of rum, a pocket-lighter and tinder, and an iron box containing identity papers which would enable a convict to return to France as an honest man.

  “There are several honest men in that box,” said Chéri-Bibi, with a grunt of satisfaction. “You will be able to make your choice.”

  Then there was a bottle filled with a brownish liquid. It was an antidote to the stings of snakes.

  Chéri-Bibi had thought of everything; but undoubtedly the prize of the collection was a large box from which he drew forth two hatchets for felling trees, a rifle, a revolver, some ammunition and three dynamite cartridges.

  “It’s all in first-rate condition, because I took the precaution of covering the kit-bag and the box with a thick layer of bully-tree gum,” observed Chéri-Bibi.

  The Nut did not know how to express his delight. He burst into laughter. For the first time since he had been in the penal settlement he laughed. He had no suspicion, unhappy man, that not far away from him a pair of eyes were fastened on those treasures and gleaming with covetousness.

  Had the Burglar’s three confederates been with him, possibly he might not have wavered but fallen upon the two friends before they were in possession of their weapons. Possibly — because Chéri-Bibi and the Nut, even unarmed, were men to be feared.

  They had by this time satisfied their hunger from a tin of preserved meat, and Chéri-Bibi sl
ung his rifle on his shoulder ready to set out for the chase.

  “Sharpen your teeth,” he said; “I’m going to have a look round for your dinner, and I can assure you that there won’t be such a spread even at the Commandant’s table. But let’s do a little fishing to start with.”

  “Are you going shooting and fishing at the same time?” inquired the Nut, who since he had seen the good things at their disposal had forgotten his troubles and was as light-hearted as a child.

  “You’ll soon see how I do my fishing,” returned Chéri-Bibi.

  He went up to the river bank and, handing his rifle to the Nut, took from his precious kit-bag, which he had flung over his shoulders, a dynamite cartridge. A minute later the cartridge exploded in the river, and straightway dozens of fish, both big and small, floated on the seething waters, belly upwards.

  “Well, what do you say to some fried fish?”

  “I’m sorry we’ve got rid of a dynamite cartridge. We’ve only two left.”

  “That’s more than we shall want,” returned Chéri-Bibi. “What’s the use of them if not for fishing? In the old days, when I amused myself by going prospecting for gold in the forest, they came in handy, but now I’ve no need of them, and I’ll tell you why after dinner.”

  Chéri-Bibi began shooting, and had the good fortune to “bring down” a tapir and a partridge. The partridge was the size of a chicken and the tapir as big as a pony. In South America the flesh of the tapir is considered one of the best among red meats; and with the fish which they picked up on the surface of the water after the explosion of their dynamite cartridge, their dinner could not fail to be an appetizing one.

  They pitched their camp some three hundred feet from the Pupa under a great forest tree, dug a hole, lighted a fire, and when the hole grew as hot as an oven, slipped the skinned carcass of the tapir into it.

  They ate their fill and drank the river water with a dash of rum in it. At the finish Chéri-Bibi fished out of his bag some tobacco and they smoked and chatted in great good humor.

  The Nut regarded their mode of existence as perfect, and declared that he could not understand the conduct of those escaped convicts who, having had the unexpected good fortune to reach the forest, returned and surrendered themselves as prisoners.

  Chéri-Bibi as he listened to him gave a peculiar smile.

  Night was coming on. An impressive silence reigned over the face of all living things.

  “Well,” said Chéri-Bibi, speaking in an undertone as if he feared to be overheard by the very trees. “Well, I, who love the forest, I tell you that I cannot look upon it without a tremor, and particularly during those hours, like the present, when it ceases to breathe. Its silence terrifies me.... I’ve never been afraid of but two things — my knife for others and the forest for myself. For the forest is like myself.... Sometimes it wants to do good, and it is at those moments that it slays. The forest is something like my elder sister.... I love it very much and it loves me very much, and yet it would make an end of me as it would make an end of anyone else, because when one is born to commit murder there’s no way out of it. Some crime is on foot at the moment when one least suspects it. Be on your guard. You must never take any risks. The forest is full of mysteries; full of fumes which kill; of plants and animals which carry death in their breath. And then there are other things besides plants and animals.... There, listen...” snorted Chéri-Bibi, as he grasped his rifle and peered into the gloom behind the Nut. “Didn’t you hear?”

  “No.... What was it?”

  “A man’s breathing.”

  Chéri-Bibi remained standing for several minutes with his ears pricked up listening to the sounds of the forest, and then he came back and seated himself again beside the fire and threw ashes over it.

  “I assure you,” he said, sinking his voice, “that something was breathing not very far away from us, and that something was a man. Perhaps it was a medicine-man who was passing and came up to have a look at us. In any case, let’s put out the fire, which throws too much light around, and use the lantern. That will be enough to drive away wild animals, while a big fire, you know, attracts any man who may be in the neighborhood.... So you didn’t hear anything? No, you can’t tell. Sure enough, there’s only one wizard who would come so near. It’s a pity that Yoyo isn’t here.”

  “Who or what’s Yoyo?”

  “Yoyo is undoubtedly the chief magician or medicine-man of the forest. He’s the man who taught me a thing or two! He has a cure for everything. He can drive away evil spirits.... And he gave me the antidote for the stings of snakes. I’ll introduce you to him in three or four days’ march from her. He’s an Indian who comes from the Emmerillons, and he and his family just managed to escape being eaten by a savage tribe — the Roncouyennes.”

  “Even though he’s a magician?”

  “Oh, in those days he was only an apprentice magician. He hadn’t passed his examinations!”

  “Do magicians have to pass examinations?”

  “The Indians about here call their medicine-men piayes. A goodly number of them claim to be piayes, but if they are not the real article they do not impose on anyone. There are certain recognized tests by which it is impossible to mistake a genuine piaye. Such a man knows how at a given time to make a tiger or jaguar obey him. You must understand that these men are familiar with every scent and plant, and the peculiar detritus with which they have to sow the track of these animals in order to make them come to the place to which they wish them to come.”

  “Is Yoyo a friend?”

  “A very great friend. It was I who saved him from death. And ever since then he and his brothers have worked for me in a secret place in the forest. A great quantity of gold is stored in that place; more gold, perhaps, than you would be able to carry away with you.”

  Chéri-Bibi mounted guard during the night and looked after the Nut as though he were a child.

  He managed to rig him up a crude sort of hammock by twisting together a number of creepers and suspending them to a tree. It served to protect the Nut from the excruciating stings of the innumerable ants which constitute the mortal plague of Guiana at night time. Next morning the Nut could not be sufficiently grateful, nor did he know how to express the feelings of friendship with which his heart was overflowing. He was quite at a loss.

  “Never mind about that,” said Chéri-Bibi, as they broke camp. “That’s a matter between me and the good Lord. He has been rather hard upon me, and we have not always got on well together. But the good Lord allowed you to cross my path, and I am thankful for it. You know that in my particular sphere of life, one doesn’t come across a mug like yours every day. Yours is not the mug of a bad lot. That’s all. I like you because I’ve often seen you grieving and calling out for your mother like a kid, and because you’re a white man, with the soul of a priest. You give me peace, in fact. Enough, we’ll say no more about it.... And then you must know one thing, old man — everything that I have is yours. My life, my gold — everything. My life will be useful to you here, and my gold will be useful to you in Europe. I have a fair quantity of it....

  “Yoyo alone knows where I keep it. We must continue our way day and night. I shan’t be easy in my mind until we meet Yoyo. The other medicine-men are afraid of him, and the redskins from Taheca to Paramaeuas obey him. Yoloch, the native devil, and Goudon, the native god, are devoted to him. He rules the forest.”

  “Where is Yoyo?” asked the Nut.

  “In a part of the forest which very few people except his family and myself know, I promise you.

  .. However, nearly every Sunday he comes to do a little marketing at Sanda’s bar and store in the village where the gold-diggers live.”

  They pushed rapidly forward during the next two days and nights. Every now and then they met natives, who greeted them with the usual civilities but kept their distance.

  “Hodeo.” (“Good day.”)

  “Akonno, Feî-de-ba?” (“Thank you, how are you?”)

  �
�Li vacca bouilleba.” (Traveling is pleasant, thanks be to Heaven.”)

  “Diafonno.” (“May your journey continue prosperous!”)

  Sometimes they encountered natives who were able to speak French fairly well. The Nut could not help expressing his astonishment.

  “They mix in high circles, my dear fellow,” explained Chéri-Bibi. “They’re regular frequenters of the wood-cutting establishments and the penal settlements on the coast. Yoyo speaks French as well as you or I.”

  Other natives jabbered a mixture of French and Pupian which was not without its humor.

  “How lifika? (How are things?”)

  The Nut asked Chéri-Bibi if it were true, as was declared, that certain tribes in Guiana practiced cannibalism.

  Chéri-Bibi nodded his head.

  “There are some. There are not many, but there are a few when the opportunity for a good ‘feast’ offers itself — you follow me — and we can’t bear them any grudge for it. From what I hear, it’s not so very bad.... In general, the natives are quite decent sorts if the medicine-men do not egg them on. But there are tribes who work only with these ‘feasts’ in view. They don’t live in these parts, but much farther away, near Pelzgoudars. Yoyo told me that in that district you must take no risks.... Those people are fond of tasty dishes!”

  “What about the terrible tribe of Oyaricoulets?”

  “I can tell you that I’ve never seen the tribe of Oyaricoulets, and I really believe that those who talk the most about them haven’t seen them any more than I have. Still, one can never tell. The jungle is a world to itself, and we must never be astonished at anything. The story runs that these people have big ears resembling the ears of donkeys, and enormously long legs. They’re giants, in fact. They climb trees like monkeys. They are said to be armed with bows as big as my arm, which carry an incredible distance, and of course they ‘eat’ the stranger within their gates. It’s said, too, that they have noses as big as a macaw’s beak. Stuff and nonsense!”