CHAPTER FOUR.
THE DOCTOR FINDS UNEXPECTED WORK IN THE WILDERNESS, AND A MYSTERIOUSSTRANGER IS INTRODUCED.
It has been said that the travellers--for we cannot now appropriatelystyle them fugitives--had reached a more open country, and thatHockins's fight with the wild bull had taken place on the margin of awide grassy plain.
This plain, however, was limited. In front of them the scenery wasundulating and beautifully varied--almost park-like in its character,and only in one direction--to the right--did it extend like a sea ofwaving grass to the horizon. Behind them lay the dense forest throughwhich they had passed. The forest also curved round to their left, andstretched away, apparently unbroken, on to still far-off mountains.
After they had breakfasted, packed their dried meat, and sallied forthon the journey of another day, they walked in silence until they reachedthe edge of the plain, where there was room to walk abreast.
"Now, comrades," said Mark Breezy, "we will go to the top of yon mound,see how the land lies, and hold a council of war."
"Just so, cap'n; take our bearin's an' lay our course," assentedHockins.
They soon reached the spot, and found the view from it unexpectedlybeautiful. The whole landscape was clothed with tropical verdure. Pastthe foot of the mound ran a considerable stream, which opened out into aseries of lakelets in the hollows beyond, the waters of which seemed tobe the home of considerable numbers of wild-fowl,--but there was no signof the presence of man.
"Strange," said Mark, in a low voice, "that such a lovely scene shouldhave been created a solitude, with no one to profit by or enjoy it."
"Well now, sir," remarked the sailor, "d'ee know that same thought haspuzzled me now an' again; for although my purfession is the sea, I'vetravelled a good bit on the land--specially in South America--and I'veseen miles on miles o' splendid country, that made me think of Adam an'Eve in paradise, with never a soul, as you say, to make use of or enjoyit. I've often wondered what it was all made for!"
"Don't you tink," said Ebony, with his head a little on one side, andhis earnest eyes betraying the sincerity of his nature, "don't you tinkdat p'r'aps de ducks an' geese, an' sitch-like, makes use ob an' enjoysit? to say nuffin' oh de beasts, hinsects, an' fishes."
"You may be right, Ebony," returned Hockins, with an approving nod; "wehuman being's is apt to think too much of ourselves. Moreover, it hascome into my mind that Great Britain was a solitood once--or much aboutit--an' it's anything but that now; so mayhap them lands will beswarmin' wi' towns an' villages some day or other. What d'ee think,Doctor?"
But the young doctor said nothing, for while his companions were thusindulging in speculations, he was anxiously considering what course theyshould pursue.
"You see, comrades," he said, turning to them abruptly, "if we go to theright and traverse this fine country we may very likely fall in withvillages, but the villagers may be savages, like those we met on thecoast. On the other hand, if we go to the left, we shall have totraverse the somewhat dark and difficult forests, but then we shall bemaking for the mountains and table-lands of the interior; and as thecapital, Ant--Ant--"
"Anty-all-alive-O!" suggested Hockins.
"No, 's not dat. It ends wid `arrive O!' w'ich is just what we wants."
"Well, whatever may be its name, I know that it is in the centre of theisland somewhere, and the centre of any land always means the mountains;so I think we had better decide to go to the left, and--"
"Hallo! look yonder, sir," said Hockins, pointing towards a low cliffwhich rose in front of them not a quarter of a mile from the spot wherethey stood.
Turning in the direction indicated, they observed a man running swiftly,as if in pursuit of something. They could see that he was clothed, andthat he carried several spears, from which they judged that he was ahunter. Coming to the foot of the cliff before mentioned, the manascended the face of it with wonderful agility, and had almost gainedthe top, when a treacherous root or stone gave way, causing him to losehis hold and roll violently to the bottom.
"Poor fellow, he's killed!" cried Mark, running towards the fallenhunter, who lay on the ground motionless.
He was not killed, however, though stunned and bleeding profusely from adeep wound in the arm, caused by one of his own spears while in the actof falling. When the three strangers suddenly appeared the huntergrasped one of the spears and made a vigorous attempt to rise, evidentlyunder the impression that he was about to be attacked; but the fall andthe loss of blood were too much for him. He sank back with a groan, yetthere was a look of quiet dignity about him which showed that he gaveway to no craven spirit.
Our young doctor, kneeling down beside him, proceeded at once to staunchthe wound and bind up the arm with his pocket-handkerchief. While hewas thus engaged, Hockins brought some water from a neighbouring streamin a cup which he had extemporised out of a piece of bark, and appliedit to the man's lips. Ebony stood by, with a look of profound pity onhis face, ready for whatever might be required of him.
The hunter showed by the expression of his handsome brown features thathe was grateful for these attentions. Yet, at the same time, thereseemed to be something of perplexity, if not surprise, in his looks ashe gazed on the white men's faces. But he did not utter a word. Whenthe dressing of the arm was completed--of course in a most businesslikemanner--he again attempted to rise, but was so weak from loss of bloodthat he fell back fainting in the Doctor's arms.
"This is a most awkward business," said Mark, as he laid the mancarefully on the ground, and put a bundle of grass under his head for apillow. "It behoves us to push on our journey without delay, yet itwill never do to leave him here alone, and we can't very well take himon with us. What _is_ to be done!"
Both Hockins and the negro _looked_ their incapacity to answer thatquestion. Just then the answer came in the form they least expected,for a sound of many voices in clamorous talk suddenly broke on theirears. The speakers, whoever they might be, were still distant, and theformation of the ground prevented our travellers being seen by them.
"Savages!" exclaimed Mark and Hockins in the same breath.
"Hide!" cried Ebony, with a roll of his huge eyes, as he suited theaction to the word, and leaped into the bushes. The others followed hisexample, and running about a hundred yards back into the woods, climbedinto the branches of a lofty tree, from which outlook, well screened byleaves, they saw a band composed of some hundreds of natives walkingsmartly over the open plain. From the manner of their approach it wasevident that they searched for some one, and as they made straight forthe cliff where the wounded man lay, it seemed probable that they werefollowing up his trail.
"We're done for," said Mark, in a tone of despair, as he noted this.
"Why d'ee think so, Doctor?" asked Hockins, who did not by any meansseem to take such a gloomy view of their case.
"Don't you see? Savages can follow up people's trails almost as well asdogs. They'll easily trace us to the foot of this tree by ourfootprints, and then they've only to look up!"
"That's true. I had forgotten that."
"Dere's time to drop down yit, massa, and squatilate," suggested thenegro, excitedly.
Mark shook his head.
"Might as well try to run from tigers as from savages," he returned,"unless you've got a good start."
"But they ain't all savages, sir," whispered Hockins, as the band drewnearer. "Some o' the naked black fellows look savage enough, no doubt,but there's a lot of 'em lightish brown in the skin, an' clothed in finethough queer garments. They carry themselves, too, like gentlemen.P'r'aps we'd better go for'ard an' trust them."
"Trust to 'em, 'Ockins!" said Ebony with a decided shake of the head,"trust men wid _brown_ faces? Nebber!"
The whispered conversation ceased at this point for a loud shout ofsurprise mingled with alarm was raised as the band came to the foot ofthe cliff and found what appeared to be the dead body of the woundedman. Evidently they were friends, for while some of them
kneeled downbeside the injured hunter to examine him, others gave way to gesturesand exclamations of grief.
Presently the watchers observed that one of those who kneeled beside thebody looked up with a smile and a nod of satisfaction as he pointed tohis chest.
"They've discovered that he's not dead," said Mark.
"Yes, massa, an' dey've diskivered de bandaged arm."
"Ay, an' it seems to puzzle 'em," added the seaman.
It did more than puzzle them. They had not observed it at first,because, just before running into the woods, Mark had covered it with aloose shawl--a sort of linen plaid--which the man had worn round hisshoulders. When they removed this and saw the bandage which was woundround the limb in the most careful and perfect manner, they looked ateach other in great surprise; then they looked solemn and spoke in lowtones, glancing round now and then with saucer-like eyes, as if theyexpected to see something frightful.
"I do believe, Doctor," whispered the seaman, "that they think your workhas been done by a goblin of some sort!"
It would indeed seem as if some such idea had entered the minds of theband, for instead of examining the ground for footprints and followingthem up--as was natural to have done--they silently constructed a litterof branches, covered it with some of their garments, and quietly borethe wounded and still unconscious man away in the direction of theplains.
With thankful hearts our travellers slid to the ground, and hurried offin the opposite direction towards the mountains.
That night they came to a deeply-shaded and rugged piece of ground inthe heart of the forest where there were caverns of various sizes. Herethe solitude seemed to be so profound that the fear of pursuit graduallyleft them, so they resolved to kindle a cheerful fire in one of thecaves, cook a good supper, and enjoy themselves. Finding a cave thatwas small, dry, and well concealed, they soon had a bright fire blazingin it, round which they sat on a soft pile of branches--Mark and Hockinslooking on with profound interest and expectation while the negroprepared supper.
"If I only had a quid o' baccy now," said Hockins, "I'd be as happy as aking."
"I have the advantage of you, friend, for I am as happy as a kingwithout it," said the young doctor.
"Well, there's no denyin'," returned the seaman, "that you have theadvantage o' me; but if I only had the baccy I'd enjoy my disadvantage.P'r'aps there's a bit left in some corner o'--"
He plunged his hands into each pocket in his garments, one afteranother, but without success until he came to the left breast-pocket ofhis coat. When he had searched that to its deepest recesses he stoppedand looked up with a beaming countenance.
"Ho! got 'im?" asked Ebony, with interest.
Hockins did not reply, but, slowly and tenderly, drew forth--not a quid,but--a little piece of brown wood about five or six inches long.
"A penny whistle!" exclaimed Mark.
"Speak with reverence, Doctor," returned the sailor, with a quiet smile,"it ain't a penny whistle, it's a flageolet. I stuck it here the lasttime I was amoosin' the crew o' the _Eastern Star_ an' forgot I hadn'tputt it away. Wait a bit, you shall hear."
Saying this Hockins put the tiny instrument to his lips, and drew fromit sounds so sweet, so soft, so melodious and tuneful, that hiscompanions seemed to listen in a trance of delight, with eyes as well aswith ears!
"Splendid!" exclaimed Mark, enthusiastically, when the sailor ceased toplay. "Why, Hockins, I had no idea you could play like that! Of courseI knew that you possessed musical powers to some extent, for I haveheard the tooting of your flageolet through the bulkheads when at sea;but two or three inches of plank don't improve sweet sounds, I suppose."
"Ho! massa, didn't I tell you t'ree or four times dat he play mos'awrful well?"
"True, Ebony, so you did; but I used to think your energetic praise wasdue to your enthusiastic disposition, and so paid no attention to yourinvitations to go for'ard an' listen. Well, I confess I was a loser.You must have played the instrument a long time, surely?"--turning tothe seaman.
"Yes, ever since I was a small boy. My father played it before me, andtaught me how to finger it. He was a splendid player. He usedsometimes to go to the back of the door when we had a small blow-out,an' astonish the company by playin' up unexpectedly. He was great atScotch tunes--specially the slow ones, like this."
He put the little instrument to his lips again, and let it nestle, as itwere, in his voluminous beard, as he drew from it the pathetic strainsof "Wanderin' Willie," to the evidently intense enjoyment of Ebony, whoregarded music as one of the chief joys of life--next, perhaps, tocooking!
But Mark and Ebony were not the only listeners to that sweet strain.Just outside the mouth of the cave there stood a man, who, to judge fromthe expression of his face, was as much affected by the music as thenegro. Though he stood in such a position as to be effectually screenedfrom the view of those within, a gleam of reflected light fell upon hisfigure, showing him to be a tall, handsome man in the prime of life. Hewas clothed in what may be styled a mixed European and native costume,and a gun on which he rested both hands seemed to indicate him a hunter.He carried no other weapon, except a long knife in his girdle. Themixed character of his garb extended also to his blood, for his skin,though dark and bronzed from exposure, was much lighter than that ofmost natives of the island, and his features were distinctly European.Quiet gravity was the chief characteristic of his countenance, and therewas also an expression of profound sadness or pathos, which was probablycaused by the music.
When Hockins finished his tune the three friends were almost petrifiedwith astonishment--not unmingled with alarm--as they beheld this manwalk coolly into the cave, rest his gun on the side of it, and sitgravely down on the opposite side of the fire.
The first impulse of our three friends, of course, was to spring up, butthe action of the man was so prompt, and, withal, so peaceful, that theywere constrained to sit still.
"Don't be alarmed. I come as a friend. May I sit by your fire?"
He spoke in good English, though with a decidedly foreign accent.
"You are welcome, since you come as a friend," said Mark, "though I mustadd that you have taken us by surprise."
"Well now, stranger," said Hockins, putting his musical instrument inhis pocket, "how are we to know that you _are_ a friend--except by thecut o' your jib, which, I admit, looks honest enough, and your actions,which, we can't deny, are peaceable like?"
The seaman put this question with a half-perplexed, half-amused air.The stranger received it without the slightest change in his graveaspect.
"You have no other means of knowing," he replied, "except by my `jib'and my actions."
"Dat's a fact, anyhow," murmured Ebony.
"Who _are_ you, and where do you come from?" asked Mark.
"I am an outlaw, and I come from the forest."
"That's plain-speakin', an' no mistake," said Hockins, with a laugh,"an' deserves as plain a return. We can't say exactly that _we_ areoutlaws, but we are out-an'-outers, an' we're going through the forestto--to--Anty-all-alive-O! or some such name--the capital, you know--"
"Antananarivo," suggested the outlaw.
"That's it! That's the name--I couldn't recall," said Mark, quickly."We are going there, if we can only find the way."
"I know the way," returned the outlaw, "and my reason for coming here isto offer to show it you."
"Indeed! But how came you to know our intentions, and what makes youtake so much interest in us?" asked Mark, with a look of suspicion.
"My reason for being interested in you," returned the stranger, "is amatter with which you have nothing to do. How I came to know yourintentions it is easy to explain, for I have followed you from thesea-coast step by step. I saw you escape from the savages, saw youfrightened out of the cave by my friends the outlaws, who dwell in it,followed you while you traversed the forest, listened to yourconversations, witnessed your exploit with the bull, and observed youwhen you helped and bandaged the wounded native." r />
It would be difficult to describe the looks or feelings with which thethree friends received this information. Ebony's eyes alone would havetaken at least half-an-hour of the pencil to portray.
"But--but--why?" stammered Mark.
"Never mind the why," continued the outlaw, with a pleasant look. "Yousee that I know all about you--at least since you landed--and I alsoknow that you have been several times in unseen danger, from which Ihave shielded you. Now, you have arrived at a part of the forest whichis swarming with brigands, into whose hands you are sure to fall unlessI am with you. I therefore come to offer myself as your guide. Willyou have me?"
"It seems to me," returned Mark, with something of scorn in his tone,"that we have no choice, for you have us at your mercy--we cannotrefuse. I suppose you are the brigand chief, and are guarding us forsome sinister purpose of your own."
"I said not that I was a brigand," returned the stranger, quietly; "Isaid I was an outlaw. What else I am, and my motives of action, Ichoose not to tell. You say truly--I have you in my power. That is onereason why I would befriend you, if you will trust me." The outlaw roseup as he spoke.
There was such an air of quiet dignity and evident sincerity in the manthat Mark was strongly impressed. Rising promptly, he stretched hishand across the fire, saying, "We will trust you, friend, even though wewere _not_ in your power."
The outlaw grasped the youth's hand with a gratified look.
"Now," he added, as he took up his gun, "I will go. In the morning atday-break I will return. Sleep well till then."
With something like a courtly salute, the mysterious stranger left them,and disappeared into the depths of the forest.