“I can show you a way up de rocks,” he said. “We can get to the walls of um fort, as you call um, without being seen.”
Soon night was upon them, for in the tropics there is rarely any twilight. Tom now declared himself able to walk once more, and they moved off silently, like so many shadows, beside the swamp and then over a fallen palm to where a series of rocks, led up to the cliff proper.
“Sh-ah!” came presently from Cujo. “Man ahead!”
They came to a halt, and through the gloom saw a solitary figure sitting on a rock. The sentinel held a gun over his knees and was smoking a cigarette.
“If he sees us he will give the alarm,” whispered Tom. “Can’t we capture him without making a noise?”
“Dat’s de talk,” returned Aleck. “Cujo, let us dun try dat trick.”
Cujo nodded. “Urn boys stay here,” he said. “Cujo fix dat feller!”
And off he crawled through the wet grass, taking a circuitous route which brought him up on the sentinel’s left.
Presently the sentinel started to rise. As he did so Cujo leaped from the grass and threw him to the earth. Then a long knife flashed in the air. “No speak, or um diet” came softly; but, the Frenchman realized that the African meant what he said.
“I will be silent!” he growled, in the language of the African. “Don’t—don’t choke me.”
Cujo let out a low whistle, which the others rightly guessed was a signal for them to come up. Finding himself surrounded, the Frenchman gave up his gun and other weapons without a struggle. He could talk no English, so what followed had to be translated by Cujo.
“Yes, de man an’ boy are dare,” explained Cujo, pointing to the fort. “Da chained up, so dis rascal say. De captain ob de band want heap money to let um go.”
“Ask him how many of the band there are,” asked Sam.
But at this question the Frenchman shook his head. Either he did not know or would not tell.
After a consultation the rascal was made to march back to safer ground. Then he was strapped to a tree and gagged. The straps were not fastened very tightly, so that the man was sure to gain his liberty sooner or later. “If we didn’t come back and he was too tight he might starve to death,” said Tom.
“Not but wot he deserves to starve,” said Aleck, with a scowl at the crestfallen prisoner.
At the foot of the cliff all was as dark and silent as a tomb. “We go slow now, or maybe take a big tumble,” cautioned Cujo. “Perhaps him better if me climb up first,” and he began the dangerous ascent of the cliff by means of the numerous vines already mentioned.
He was halfway up when the others started after him, Sam first, Tom next, and Aleck bringing up in the rear.
Slowly they arose until the surface of the stream was a score or more of feet below them. Then came the sounds of footsteps from above and suddenly a torch shone down into their upturned faces.
“Hullo, who’s this?” came in English and the Rover boys recognized Dan Baxter.
“Silence, on your life!” cried Tom.
“Tom Rover!” gasped the bully. “How came you—”
“Silence, Baxter! I have a pistol and you know I am a good shot. Stand where you an and put both hands over your head.”
“Will I stand? Not much!” yelled the bully, and flung his torch straight at Tom. Then he turned and ran for the fort, giving the alarm at the top of his lungs.
The torch struck Tom on the neck, and for the moment the youth was in danger of losing his hold on the vines and tumbling to the jagged rocks below. But then the torch slipped away, past Sam and Aleck, and went hissing into the dark waters of the Congo.
By this time Cujo had reached the top of the cliff and was making after Baxter. Both gained the end of the fort at the same time and one mighty blow from Cujo’s club laid Baxter senseless near the doorway.
“Help! help!” The cry came in Dick’s voice, and was plainly heard by Sam and Tom. Then Captain Villaire appeared, and a rough and tumble battle ensued, which the Rovers well remember to this day.
But Tom was equal to the occasion, and after the first onslaught he turned, as if summoning help from the cliff. “This way!” he cried. “Tell the company to come up here and the other company can surround the swamp!”
Several pistol shots rang out, and the boys saw a Frenchman go down with a broken arm. Then Captain Villaire shouted: “We have been betrayed—we must flee!” The cry came in French, and as if by magic the brigands disappeared into the woods behind the old fort; and victory was upon the side of our friends.
CHAPTER XXI
INTO THE HEART OF AFRICA
“Well, I sincerely trust we have no more such adventures.”
The speaker was Randolph Rover. He was seated on an old bench in one of the rooms of the fort, binding up a finger which had been bruised in the fray. It was two hours later, and the fight had come to an end some time previous. Nobody was seriously hurt, although Sam, Dick, and Aleck were suffering from several small wounds. Aleck had had his ear clipped by a bullet from Captain Villaire’s pistol and was thankful that he had not been killed.
Baxter, the picture of misery, was a prisoner. The bully’s face was much swollen and one eye was in deep mourning. He sat huddled up in a heap in a corner and wondering what punishment would be dealt out to him. “I suppose they’ll kill me,” he groaned, and it may be added that he thought he almost deserved that fate.
“You came just in time,” said Dick. “Captain Villaire was about to torture us into writing letters home asking for the money he wanted as a ransom. Baxter put it into his head that we were very rich.”
“Oh, please don’t say anything more about it!” groaned the unfortunate bully. “I—that Frenchman put up this job all on his own hook.”
“I don’t believe it,” came promptly from Randolph Rover. “You met him, at Boma; you cannot deny it.”
“So I did; but he didn’t say he was going to capture you, and I—”
“We don’t care to listen to your falsehoods, Baxter,” interrupted Dick sternly.
“You are fully as guilty as anybody. You admitted it before.”
Cujo had gone off to watch Captain Villaire and his party. He now came back, bringing word that the brigand had taken a fallen tree and put out on the Congo and was drifting down the stream along with several of his companions in crime.
“Him won’t come back,” said the tall African. “Him had enough of urn fight.”
Nevertheless the whole party remained on guard until morning, their weapons ready for instant use. But no alarm came, and when day, dawned they soon made sure that they had the entire locality around the old fort to themselves, the Frenchman with a broken arm having managed to crawl off and reach his friends.
What to do with Dan Baxter was a conundrum.
“We can’t take him with us, and if we leave him behind he will only be up to more evil,” said Dick. “We ought to turn him over to the British authorities.”
“No, no, don’t do that,” pleaded the tall youth. “Let me go and I’ll promise never to interfere with you again.”
“Your promises are not worth the breath used in uttering them,” replied Tom. “Baxter, a worse rascal than you could not be imagined. Why don’t you try to turn over a new leaf?”
“I will—if you’ll only give me one more chance,” pleaded the former bully of Putnam Hall.
The matter was discussed in private and it was at last decided to let Baxter go, providing he would, promise to return straight to the coast.
“And remember,” said Dick, “if we catch you following us again we will shoot you on sight.”
“I won’t follow—don’t be alarmed,” was the low answer, and then Baxter was released and conducted to the road running down to Boma. He was given the knife he had carried, but the Rovers kept his pistol, that he might not be able
to take a long-range shot at them. Soon he was out of their sight, not to turn up again for a long while to come.
It was not until the heat of the day had been spent that the expedition resumed its journey, after, an excellent meal made from the supplies Captain Villaire’s party had left behind in their hurried flight. Some of the remaining supplies were done up into bundles by Cujo, to replace those which had been lost when the natives hired by Randolph Rover had deserted.
“It’s queer we didn’t see anything of that man and woman from the inn,” remarked Dick, as they set off. “I reckon they got scared at the very start.”
They journeyed until long after nightfall, “To make up for lost time,” as Mr. Rover expressed it, and so steadily did Cujo push on that when a halt was called the boys were glad enough to rest. They had reached a native village called Rowimu. Here Cujo was well known and he readily procured good accommodations for all hands.
The next week passed without special incident, excepting that one afternoon the whole party went hunting, bringing down a large quantity of birds, and several small animals, including an antelope, which to the boys looked like a Maine deer excepting for the peculiar formation of its horns.
“I wonder how Mr. Blaze is making out?” said Tom, when they were returning to camp from the hunt.
“Oh, I reckon he is blasting away at game,” laughed Sam, and Tom at once groaned over the attempted joke.
“Perhaps we will meet him some day—if he’s in this territory,” put in Dick. “But just now I am looking for nobody but father.”
“And so are all of us,” said Tom and Sam promptly.
They were getting deeper and deeper into the jungle and had to take good care that they did not become separated. Yet Cujo said he understood the way perfectly and often proved his words by mentioning something which they would soon reach, a stream, a little lake, or a series of rocks with a tiny waterfall.
“Been ober dis ground many times,” said the guide.
“I suppose this is the ground Stanley covered in his famous expedition along the Congo,” remarked Dick, as they journeyed along. “But who really discovered the country, Uncle Randolph?”
“That is a difficult question to answer, Dick. The Portuguese, the Spanish, and the French all claim that honor, along with the English. I fancy different sections, were discovered by different nationalities. This Free State, you know, is controlled by half a dozen nations.”
“I wonder if the country will ever be thoroughly civilized?”
“It will take a long while, I am afraid. Christianity will have to come first. Many of the tribes in Africa are, you must remember, without any form of religion whatever, being even worse than what we call heathens, who worship some sort of a God.”
“Don’t they believe in anything?” asked Sam.
“Nothing, Sam. And their morality is of the lowest grade in consequence. They murder and steal whenever the chance offers, and when they think the little children too much care for them they pitch them into the rivers for the crocodiles to feed upon.”
“The beasts!” murmured Tom. “Well, I reckon at that rate, civilization can’t come too quick, even if it has to advance behind bayonets and cannon.”
CHAPTER XXII
A HURRICANE IN THE JUNGLE
On and on went the expedition. In the past many small towns and villages had been visited where there were more or less white people; but now they reached a territory where the blacks held full sway, with—but this was rarely—a Christian missionary among them.
At all of the places which were visited Cujo inquired about King Susko and his people, and at last learned that the African had passed to the southeast along the Kassai River, driving before him several hundred head of cattle which he had picked up here and there.
“Him steal dat cattle,” explained Cujo, “but him don’t say dat stealin’, him say um—um—”
“A tax on the people?” suggested Dick.
“Yes, um tax. But him big Vief.”
“He must be, unless he gives the people some benefit for the tax they are forced to pay,” said Tom.
At one of the villages they leaned that there was another American Party in that territory, one sent out by an Eastern college to collect specimens of the flora of central Africa. It was said that the party consisted of an elderly man and half a dozen young fellows.
“I wouldn’t mind meeting that crowd,” said Sam. “They might brighten up things a bit.”
“Never mind; things will pick up when once we meet King Susko,” said Dick. “But I would like to know where the crowd is from and who is in it.”
“It’s not likely we would know them if they are from the East,” said Sam. “Probably they hail from Yale or Harvard.”
Two days later the storm which Cujo had predicted for some time caught them while they were in the midst of an immense forest of teak and rosewood. It was the middle of the afternoon, yet the sky became as black as night, while from a distance came the low rumble of thunder. There was a wind rushing high up in the air, but as yet this had not come down any further than the treetops. The birds of the jungle took up the alarm and filled the forest with their discordant cries, and even the monkeys, which were now numerous, sit up a jabber which would have been highly trying to the nerves of a nervous person.
“Yes, we catch um,” said Cujo, in reply to Dick’s question. “Me look for safe place too stay.”
“You think the storm will be a heavy one?” asked Randolph Rover anxiously.
“Werry heavy, massah; werry heavy,” returned Cujo. “Come wid me, all ob you,” and he set off on a run.
All followed as quickly as they could, and soon found themselves under a high mass of rocks overlooking the Kassai River. They had hardly gained the shelter when the storm burst over their heads in all of its wild fury.
“My, but this beats anything that I ever saw before!” cried Sam, as the wind began to rush by them with ever-increasing velocity.
“Him blow big by-me-by,” said Cujo with a sober face. “Him big storm, dis.”
“The air was full of a moanin’ sound,” to use Aleck’s way of expressing it. It came from a great distance and caused the monkeys and birds to set up more of a noise than ever. The trees were now swaying violently, and presently from a distance came a crack like that of a big pistol.
“Was that a tree went down?” asked Randolph Rover, and Cujo nodded. “It is a good thing, then, that we got out of the forest.”
“Big woods werry dangerous in heap storm like dis,” answered the African. “Tree come down, maybe kill um. Hark! now um comin’!”
He crouched down between two of the largest rocks and instinctively the others followed suit. The “moanin” increased until, with a roar and a rush, a regular tropical hurricane was upon them. The blackness of the atmosphere was filled with flying tree branches and scattered vines, while the birds, large and small, swept past like chips on a swiftly flowing river, powerless to save themselves in those fierce gusts.
“Keep down, for your lives!” shouted Randolph Rover; but the roar of the elements drowned out his voice completely. However, nobody thought of rising, and the tree limbs and vines passed harmlessly over their heads.
The first rush of wind over, the rain began, to fall, at first in drops as big as a quarter-dollar and then in a deluge which speedily converted the hollows among the rocks into deep pools and soaked everybody to his very skin. Soon the water was up to their knees and pouring down into the river like a regular cataract.
“This is a soaker and no mistake,” said Sam, during a brief lull in the downpour. “Why, I never saw so much water come down in my life.”
“It’s a hurricane,” answered Randolph Rover, “It may keep on—”
He got no further, for at that instant a blinding flash of lightning caused everybody to jump in alarm. Then came an ear-sp
litting crack of thunder and up the river they saw a magnificent baobab tree, which had reared its stately head over a hundred feet high from the ground, come crashing down, split in twain as by a Titan’s ax. The blackened stump was left standing, and soon—this burst into flames, to blaze away until another downpour of rain put out the conflagration.
“My, but that dun been awful!” murmured Aleck with a shiver. “Ise glad we didn’t take no shelter under dat tree.”
“Amen,” said Tom. He had been on the point of making some joke about the storm, but now the fun was knocked completely out of him.
It rained for the rest of the day and all of the night, and for once all hands felt thoroughly, miserable. Several times they essayed to start a fire, by which to dry themselves and make something hot to drink, but each time the rain put out the blaze. What they had to eat was not only cold, but more or less water-soaked, and it was not until the next noon that they managed to cook a meal.
When at last the sun did come out, however, it shone, so Sam put it, “with a vengeance.” There was not a cloud left, and the direct rays of the great orb of day caused a rapid evaporation of the rain, so that the ground seemed to be covered with a sort of mist. On every side could be seen the effects of the hurricane-broken trees, washed-out places along the river, and dead birds and small animals, including countless monkeys. The monkeys made the boys’ hearts ache, especially one big female, that was found tightly clasping two little baby monkeys to her breast.
The storm had swollen the river to such an extent that they were forced to leave the beaten track Cujo had been pursuing and take to another trail which reached out to the southward. Here they passed a small village occupied entirely by negroes, and Cujo learned from them that King Susko had passed that way but five days before. He had had no cattle with him, the majority of his followers having taken another route. It was thought by some of the natives that King Susko was bound for a mountain known as the Hakiwaupi—or Ghost-of-Gold.
“The Ghost-of-Gold!” repeated Dick. “Can that be the mountain father was searching for when he came to Africa?”
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