by Don Wilcox
“Checking up—how?”
“If I can find eighty skeletons, that settles everything. But if I find eighty living men, they’ve got to be marched back. And if they’re making mischief for the world, like the fortune teller said—well, that’s my responsibility too.”
“How could they make mischief for the world in the center of Africa?”
“Frankly, I don’t know. It’s my business to find out.”
The girl was staring at him blankly.
“You were bumped on the head when you were a baby, weren’t you?”
“In time, if everything goes well, I’ll pay your damages for using your plane and gumming up your schedule.”
“If things go well!” She was smiling like an indulgent nursemaid contriving the best punishment for a runaway child, “Don’t mind me, Mr. Burgess. I’ll only miss two days of my schedule. I’ll take my plane now, boys. It was nice knowing you. Do you want to ride back to New York with me, or will you drop off here. You’ll find parachutes under the seats.”
It wasn’t that simple, Allan Burgess decided. He meant to sit tight at the controls for another two hours. The vast lands that were unfolding out of the eastern horizon were beginning to take on the features of the Zamtolor region beyond the upper Congo. The forenoon sun melted the sharp lines of the distant mountains into a blur of lavender haze. The lower ranges, passing under the plane, were highlighted with pink sunlight and etched deep with violet shadows. Silvery blue streams twisted through the cliff-walled depressions. Somewhere among those jagged pink and orange mountains had occurred the tragedy of eighty men.
“I’ll write you a check for damages.” Allan said, finally. “Anybody got a blank check on an out-of-town bank?”
The girl mocked. “I suppose you’ll swoop down over a native village so I can cash it.”
He said, “That’s not as absurd as you think. There’s a small airport at Bunjojop, and I’ve got lifelong credit with the chief there.”
“I know. You drank from the same coconut,” Sue Carson said. “And you told him if he ever came to America he could look you up. What a four-flusher!”
“Gosh!” Jimmy said. His funny face had been growing sadder and sadder during this uneasy discussion.
“What’s the gosh for?” she asked.
Jimmy was frank about it, “I thought you were so nice when I’d hear you on the radio. Everybody thinks you’re the gayest person in the world. But you ain’t gay now, are you?”
Sue Carson didn’t answer. Allan saw that the comment had struck home.
Jimmy went on, “Maybe you’re full of Yippee till things go wrong. Is that it?”
The blunt words must have cut.
Allan decided. But somehow they unlocked the situation, and all at once the fight was over. The girl’s sarcastic smile faded.
“I’m sorry, boys,” she said. “I guess I’ve been talking pretty mean, haven’t I?”
Allan changed his tone, too. “It’s all our fault. Mine, I mean—not his. Jimmy’s a good fellow. You take him back to New York with you, will you? Here, I’ll turn it over to you.”
“What about you, Captain?” Jimmy asked.
“You can let me parachute down over some village. I’ll get along. The chief of Bunjojop will fix me up.”
Jimmy’s eyes wobbled. “You mean you’ll go on, an’ we go back? Gosh-ding-it, no!”
Then Sue Carson lifted a hand.
“Listen my merry men, if you think you’re going to shake me, you’re wrong. You’re off on a big adventure. I don’t know what it’s all about, but you’re taking me along. Okay?”
“Huh!” Jimmy’s face opened as if he expected a watermelon to drop in.
“You mean it? You’ll stay with us?” Allan couldn’t quite believe it. But Sue suddenly knew what she wanted.
“Boys, I’ve been shouting for mayors and chambers of commerce, until I’m blue in the face. I need a change of scenery. Captain, why don’t you radio the chief of Bunjo-what-you-call-it and tell him he’s going to have three guests for lunch?”
She offered her hand on the deal, and Allan felt sure that an indestructible triangle had formed in that moment.
CHAPTER VI
They sailed down toward their own shadow that whipped along over the ledge of mountains, across a two-mile lake and onto a level green shelf. Bunjojop was just the wide bank of a mountain lake, enclosed in red rock walls hundreds of feet high.
“I hope you know how to land on a dime,” Sue said.
“Where’s the airport?” Jimmy asked.
“That’s it, dead ahead. See that clearing that looks like all the hazards on a golf course?”
“Do you see it?” Sue asked skeptically.
“It isn’t something you see. You just remember it’s there and land on it. Don’t worry. If we nose over, the whole town will be out to pick us up. Eight hundred of them.”
It was a little copper mining town. The crude native huts were there if one looked for them. More conspicuous were the rows of unpainted wooden barracks that made up the miners’ compound.
“They’ll come out beating drums and shouting their own Hallelujah chorus,” Allan declared, anticipating the excitement. This would be a welcome the Yippee Girl had never had before. “They’ll burn bonfires and dance their native dances—”
“The Bunjo-woogie?” Sue asked.
“And the miners will come popping out of their mines like popcorn—black popcorn.”
“Black or white or brown, just so we’re welcome,” Sue said.
Allan brought the plane down onto the table of thick grass.
Jimmy was mumbling, “Hey, where is everybody?”
They steadied on three points, rolling too fast for comfort over the bumpy ground. One wing dipped and sliced the grass, the plane shuddered and coasted on. They taxied up to the little unpainted station. No one appeared.
“Who’s on duty?” Sue asked. “I haven’t seen a soul.”
“They’ll be swarming like bees in a moment,” Allan assured her. “Let’s get out.”
They anchored down and locked up. They walked around the station. They struck out on the street along the edge of the lake.
“It’s a ghost town,” said Sue. There was a hint of alarm in her tone.
Allan agreed that it certainly wasn’t the rush hour. There was something very strange about all this emptiness. Especially when Jimmy kept registering question marks all over his wide face.
“Gee-oopiter, I never seen it like this before! What’s happened, Cap?”
“They’ll show up around suppertime,” Allan said with a show of confidence.
“How soon is supper time?” Jimmy asked.
“As soon as they catch sight of us,”
Sue suggested. “They’re probably one of these starving tribes you hear about, and we’re the answer to their prayer,”
Allan grasped at an inspiration. “Prayer—that’s it. They’re all off having some religious meeting.”
Here were the markets at the center of town. Baskets of fruit and nuts were on display. Shops and homes had been deserted within recent hours. The tracks of bare feet showed in the dust.
Allan stuck to his theory that there must be a tribal meeting going on somewhere in the surrounding mountains.
“Africans are always dominated by some religion,” he said. “They pray and dance and feast all night. If we find them we might get in on the barbecue.”
“That’s just what I’m afraid of,” said Sue. “Don’t forget I’m young and tender.”
They helped themselves to the food at the market, and then approached the most respectable looking building in the town, the office of some mine official. The door was open. They called, and listened. No answer. They entered and looked around. Pen and paper on the table. Drinking water in a pail under a mosquito net. Food in the tin boxes in the pantry. Everything but people.
Jimmy began to talk in whispers. Sue quit talking. Allan felt her glances, stronger than spoken qu
estions. But he had run out of answers.
The sunlight was fading. Allan pointed to the rocky ridge at the east end of the town which he remembered as the “throne” of the chief. So far as he could tell no one was at home. At least they would wait until morning before they investigated. They had better get settled for the night.
“Don’t worry,” Allan said, as they trudged through the empty street. “Tomorrow we’ll locate his majesty. He’ll give us supplies and we can go on with our job.”
They appropriated one of the dormitories in the miner’s compound. The building was crudely constructed, with removable boards in the wall instead of doors. But the bunks inside offered what would seem like solid comfort, after their many hours aboard the plane.
“Scared?” Allan asked Sue.
“I’ll be honest about it. If these natives come back in the night, I’ll be scared silly.”
“I’ll stand guard right here in the center of the room,” Allan promised. “So don’t worry . . . Listen.”
The low rhythmic hums came from Jimmy’s bunk. He was snoring already.
“Bless his dumb heart,” Sue said.
“He’s a good guy.”
“He’s as loyal as they come,” Allan said. “Loyalty doesn’t grow on trees, either.”
“I’ll give the guy credit, he knows how to pick a leader. Good night, Mr. Captain.” She turned hastily.
Allan caught her hand. She gave him a quick, fierce smile, repeated her, “Good night,” in a conclusive tone, and went to her bunk at the end of the room.
Allan sprawled on a mat in the center of the floor. Then he sampled one of the nearby bunks and found it more to his liking. He meant to sleep with one eye open, but before he could decide which eye, he was sawing logs.
CHAPTER VII
Sue Carson was wide awake. The faint pat of footsteps had sounded out there on the path under the starlight. Now her nerves were on the alert as she listened. The steps faded into silence. She could hear her own breathing.
For a long time she lay there, unable to go back to sleep.
Both Jimmy and Allan were dead to the world, she decided. No wonder. Those hard-flying lads needed rest, no doubt about it. What a curious adventure, she thought, getting mixed up with such a pair. Here she was in Central Africa, half a world away from home, skylarking with two strangers who were chasing rainbows.
Well, at least there was some novelty in finding men who weren’t chasing the almighty dollar—or chasing skirts!
This Captain Burgess was different, all right, Sue thought.
“He hardly even made a pass at me,” she murmured to herself.
And she found the fact a bit puzzling, for she knew that she was “pretty darned passable.” The way the boys at the radio studios went for her, she had to sling a swift line to keep them at bay. As for the handsome mayors and chamber of commerce romeos who called on her to help put over a political program, she knew how to handle them. Give them a camera kiss for the newsreels. But afterward, backstage, dodge fast and if necessary, beat them off with clubs. All of this Sue could take in her stride.
But Allan Burgess had somehow jerked her out of her stride. And she rather liked it. He was so intent upon running down a mystery that he hardly saw her.
“He only wanted my plane,” she pouted to herself.
Then she sat bolt upright. She was hearing it again—that light pat, pat, pat of footsteps out on the path.
“Allan!” she called in a low whisper that echoed softly through the room. “Allan . . . Are you awake?”
Allan awakened out of a whirl of dreams and came to his feet. It was the Yippee girl whispering a tense alarm.
“Quick. He’ll be gone.”
“Who?”
“Some native. He’s walking past. I saw him. See—there he goes.”
Allan didn’t see, but he sensed that an opportunity was about to get away from him. He scrambled for his pockets, grabbed a cigarette lighter. He snapped it on, then threw it out the window opening.
It struck the path with a clink of metal on gravel, and lay there.
Allan listened.
“He stopped in his tracks,” Sue whispered. “He sees it.”
“He probably thinks some tribal devil is on his trail.” Allan adjusted his clothing and groped for his shoes.
“He’s coming back. Look, he’s just a boy!”
By the starlight Allan could make out the shadowy figure of a half-clad child, tiptoeing cautiously toward the bit of fire that had mysteriously blazed up in his wake.
“What are you going to do? Sue asked.
“Catch him, if I can.” Allan finished tying his shoes. “He may not talk English, but we’ll get some information out of him. ·Rouse Jimmy. Tell him to slip out the other door.”
What followed would have looked good on any football field. Allan couldn’t remember ever indulging in a livelier three minutes of broken field running. He chased, and the native boy jumped and dodged. The little fellow screeched like an animal when Allan once tackled him. But with a savage kick the boy scrambled free and went on a dead run for the upper end of the building.
He would have got away, then, if Jimmy hadn’t stepped out of the shadows and blocked his path.
Allan, close on his heels, saw him draw a short bright blade from his belt. But he didn’t strike, for Jimmy’s stocky arms scooped him off his feet and the knife clanged to the gravel.
Such squealing! Allan thought they would never get him quieted. It was Sue’s soft voice and the pleasant smile that turned the trick. She held the flaming cigarette lighter up, so that the boy could see his three captors face to face. He ceased to writhe in Jimmy’s arms. Allan replaced the knife in the boy’s belt—a gesture of trust. Then, to Allan’s vast delight, the boy spoke a few words of English.
“Let me go . . . Must go to chief!”
“Oho! You can talk!”
“Speak Engleese. Learn from boss of mines. I am errand boy. Chief send me on errand.”
He was in a frenzy, all right. But Allan was impressed by his good African face, his bright black eyes, and his gleaming white teeth. He was only eleven or twelve; he was intelligent and he spoke English. Just the prize that Allan needed.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Allan assured him. “In a moment you’ll go on your way, if you wish. But first, we need you as a friend. Do you understand’ ?”
“I understan’.”
“What is your name?”
“Name is Buni.” The boy was looking at Sue very seriously. It was plain that he had never seen anything like Sue before, “What your name?”
“Call me. Yippee. Buni and Yippee are going to be friends, aren’t we?”
Allan pursued with questions. Little by little, the boy revealed flashes of information about the strange thing that had happened. First, two high officers had gone up the mountain trail and had failed to return. Then the whole town, from the mighty chief to the lowly slave, had been ordered by some tribal god to drop their work and ascend the trail. The chief had given the command and all his people had obeyed. They had a hollow mountain.
“A hollow mountain? That’s a curiosity, for sure. How did you manage to get away,?” Allen asked:
“Chief is in much trouble. So he send me. I slip away and come back. I come on errand for chief. I get charm from his throne. Maybe it will help.”
The boy clutched his belt that evidently concealed some treasure other than the deadly little knife.
Allan questioned him. It was strange that a tribal god would lead them into trouble. The boy answered that the tribal god had been deceived by a great evil power. “He is the Scravvzek. You know about it? Evil Scravvzek is strong like volcanoes inside the earth.”
“What’s he talkin’ about?” Jimmy mumbled.
“What is the evil Scravvzek?”
“I do not see him,” the boy said.
His large eye s rolled and he shrugged. “No one knows. We do not see him. But we feel. The evil Scravvze
k make us come into the mountain.”
“He’s making it up,” Jimmy grumbled.
“S-sh. Let him talk.”
“Must go now. Chief is waiting.”
Allan patted the boy’s hand. “Listen, Buni. If there’s an evil Scravvzek that makes a whole tribe march into a mountain, I don’t see how your chief is going to buy him off with some magic charm. What kind of charm is it?”
The boy produced a leather folder from his belt, and drew from it a piece of silver bearing a familiar design.
“An American dollar!” Jimmy exclaimed.
“I’ll be gosh-dinged an’ gol-darned.”
“Buni,” Allan said. “I’ve seen that charm before. I’m the one who gave it to your chief. I’m his friend. Maybe I can help.”
“Will charm work?” the boy asked eagerly.
“It works miracles on ordinary troubles, don’t you ever doubt it. But this evil Scravvzek—well, we’ll have to see that ogre face-to-face before we can make any promises. Is he over in that direction, toward those two snow-capped peaks?”
“Yes,” the boy said eagerly. “How do you know?”
“I know,” Allan’s jaw tightened. “You stick with us, will you, Buni?”
“Got to take this charm—”
“You show me the way and I’ll take it.”
“It will take many hours to get there.”
“Not the way we’re going. Yippee’s got a plane and some parachutes. You help us find some ropes and provisions and we’ll take off at daylight. Okay, Jimmy? Okay, Yippee?”
CHAPTER VIII
They flew into the dawn that showed red and blue above the jagged horizon. They spiraled dizzily until the black mountains no longer stood as barriers. The tinted clouds were all around them, and they were soaring high above the lake of Bunjojop.
Sue was at the controls.
She piloted with a steady hand, following Allan’s every order. He looked down upon the unfolding landscape, catching his directions from the towering snow-tipped giants of rock.